Zurusha's correspondence

Savos, 3 Khurar, 768

My dear Medimur,

Irdomila is such her father's daughter. It astonishes me that you cannot see it in her voice, the way I can read it from the rough scrawl in her latest letter to me. It is as if she came to us direct from your loins, without the least mediation from your dear wife, though my hips remind me otherwise almost every day.

You will, of course, I trust, see that she receives no special treatment when she becomes an acolyte. I will not hear of it. It is not good for a Nemni child to be so coddled, as I fear I was by my dear father. She will want for nothing in this life, but let her feel desire long enough that she uses it to urge herself onward. She says, once again, that the mystic's path is calling to her. Mother will be pleased, I am sure.

I wonder what name the Wellspring will give to her, when the day comes? Is it strange to hope that it is not a well-worn one? That she should have a name not so weighted down with the legacy of reuse that she is unfree to chart her own course? I am certain that She will choose wisely, of course. Do not take my anxiety as a sign of mistrust.

I know you have so much to do, with the latest business. I hear only what people write to me, and even that is enough to terrify me. I do not claim to understand any of this, except to know that I am safer here in my chambers than I have any right to expect, given the danger that you and others must put yourself in to keep me so.

The work here proceeds as it must, with the needle and the knife the servant to the spine. I will not bore you with these trifles, lest you decide once again that I really must know about the various sparring positions and their many confusing names. I will of course remind you to eat well, and to reassure you in the same way that I am well fed, and perhaps even gaining a pound or two. Just because I know you worry, I share this with you.

As always, I close, not in false hope of what cannot be, but in trust in your letters as they come, constant as sunset, with you as my constant light and I,

Your dearest,

Geme

Isper, 15 Dend Aivas, 768

My dear Medimur,

I have heard that Susuva is still missing, presumed dead. We never really spent any time together, before my accident. My life was filled with joy and love and I am ashamed to admit that I felt mostly pity for her, just as I am sure that there are those who pity me now. But I do not pity myself, not any longer, and I can only presume that she did not bemoan her circumstance either.

Irdomila tells me in her letters of all the new acolytes who are joining her. Is it true that there is one from faraway Ashnabis? That is astonishing. And a Halunemni. My grandfather would have been horrified. When I was little he used to tell stories about the Huntress, who he hated so much. And this must be her great-granddaughter, this Lovosa who gives Irdomila such trouble? I do not make too much of it, really - girls at that age are not known for their kindness, and our brave child can give as good as she gets. I have instructed her to make sure she gets in a few barbs of her own, but only in retort. We Nemni shall take the high ground, as She has taught us.

And Rugu, sweet Rugu. He writes only sparingly, but I did get one from him this week, just a short thing with a little picture. Who knew I had such fearsome fangs? But then, he does not remember so much. He says that the iftibal is more fun than home, which saddens me a little, but then I remember that there are others his age there, which he would not have had readily.

They brought fresh loza berries today, for the first time this season. It is a kindness to remember the passing of seasons in the flavours upon my tongue, if not the waxing and waning of the moon nor the changing leaves. But we are now at the end of the wee month, which surely brings the turn to summer heat within a few weeks. Let us hope the dry weather brings quiet and and end to all this chaos. I look forward, as always, to your next letter, and until that happy hour, I remain,

Your eternal,

Geme

23rd Mudunend

My dear Geme,

I write to you with difficult news. Your father has killed Hojon, although he was first asked and then provoked into it by the hengi himself. I'm sure you know that Hojon has not been well for some time now, and his mind has been affected by this illness. From what your father told me, Hojon requested that he end his suffering, and when he refused, Hojon attacked him to force his hand. He is now being held while the verdict of the reckoner is awaited. He is safe and well-cared for right now, and I will do all I can to try and ensure that he is not punished unduly for this action - I cannot really call it a crime. He acted out only of urgent need and great reluctance, and I know he is deeply grieved that matters came to this.

As if this was not difficult enough, there is something else I must tell you, even as I know it will cause you pain. Over recent months, I have been working closely with Ifa to investigate into the attacks against revenants that have taken place. In the course of this work, we found that we held feelings for one another, feelings that we tried for a long time to ignore. But I cannot keep it from you, the woman I love and who I will always love. A marriage should include honesty, even if it is difficult, and I have to tell you that Ifa and I care for one another, not as brother and sister, but that we have become intimate as a man and woman. It is only recently that this happened - I have not been keeping this information from you for long, but I needed to think of how to tell you. Finally I knew that there was no good way to do so, and I simply needed to tell the truth.

Ifa does not intend to leave her role as a Hand, and I do not intend to divorce you - although I would understand if you asked that of me, knowing this as you do now. We have kept things as quiet as we can for now, not wanting to cause any scandal or dishonour. You have at times in the past told me that I should not live out my life in waiting for you, and although I have done so for many years, as faithfully as I have been able, I know now that you were right - that I should have listened to you. Although my feelings for you have not changed, I can feel my days slipping away, and saw only hopelessness ahead at the thought that my life would be like this, cold, alone, until I grew old and died. But being close to Ifa brings me comfort, as we share companionship and affection, and as I try to open my heart that has long been closed off to anyone else.

I don't know if you will want to talk to me after this, or to talk to Ifa, but please know that we both love you and had no wish to hurt you - that we resisted these feelings as long as we could, and will keep this affair private as well as we can. If you do want to talk to either of us, we will be here, waiting.

I love you still, and always,

Kuspir