Sean sat across from her, scrolling through a personal datapad, which I had no idea he owned. His errand took almost two hours. I knew exactly when he came back because he called to let me know he was about to enter, so I would let him in. He showed no signs of telling me what the errand was about. Wing still perched on the windowsill working on his whittling project.
On the wall, on an eight-foot-wide screen, Maud and Arland sparred in the Grand Ballroom, both in armor. Once he got out of the tub and donned a robe, Arland walked to his rooms where he collapsed on the bed and passed out. Maud checked on him to make sure he didn’t fall asleep facedown and suffocate. He slept like a log for five hours, then fifteen minutes ago, he came down in full armor, his hair brushed, his jaw shaved, looking like he was about to attend a parade, and announced that in half an hour his uncle would be arriving.
Maud asked him exactly how many stimulants he pumped into himself, and he told her enough to make her lower her sword in surrender. My sister did that narrow thing with her eyes that used to make me run yelling for Mom and asked him if he was willing to test his theory. Now they were beating on each other with practice weapons.
This was extremely unwise. I told him so. I told Maud so. My sister patted my shoulder and told me that he had to observe certain proprieties when he met his uncle. Meeting him while exhausted and naked in a tub of mint tea wouldn’t be appropriate and a little exercise would help the stimulants spread through his system faster.
Helen and the cat sat on the dais in the ballroom and watched the fight. The dais would be a perfect place for the Christmas tree.
“I want to celebrate Christmas,” I said.
“Isn’t it a little late for Christmas?” Caldenia asked.
“I know, but I still want to celebrate it. I want the tree and decorations. I want gifts and Christmas music. I don’t care how many Draziri are out there. They won’t take Christmas from me.”
“Yes, but we don’t have a suitable male,” Orro said. “And only one dog.”
I looked at him.
“What is this Christmas?” Wing asked.
Orro turned from the stove. “It’s the rite of passage during which the young males of the human species learn to display aggression and use weapons.”
Sean stopped what he was doing and looked at Orro.
“The young men go out in small packs,” Orro continued. “They brave the cold and come into conflict with other packs and they have to prove their dominance through physical combat. Their fathers teach them lessons in the proper use of swear words, and the young men have to undergo tests of endurance, like holding soap in their mouths and licking cold metal objects.”
Sean made a strangled noise.
“At the end of their trials, they go to see a wise elder in a red suit to prove their worth. If they are judged worthy, the family erects a ceremonial tree and presents them with gifts of weapons.”
Sean was clearly struggling, because his head was shaking.
“Also,” Orro added, “a sacrificial poultry is prepared and then given to the wild animals, probably to appease the nature spirits.”
Sean roared with laughter.
I grinned at him.
He leaned back, shaking, laughter exploding out of him.
“Your culture is so complicated,” Wing said. “On my world, we just go on a quest to kill something big.”
“I suppose small Helen could substitute for a male,” Orro said thoughtfully. “I’m sure we can get her a proper gun.”
“We can’t,” Sean managed between gulps of laughter. “She’ll put her eye out.”
“That does seem to be a prevalent concern among parents,” Orro said. “Perhaps we could employ some sort of protective eye wear.”
“Orro, you and I must watch Christmas Story together, so I can explain that movie to you.” I opened another screen. “Images, Christmas feast.”
Orro stared at the wall of food filling the screen.
I crossed my arms on my chest. “Officially Christmas is a religious holiday when Christians, members of one of our most popular religions, celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. They believe that he was the son of God who sacrificed himself to absolve them of sin. Unofficially, it’s the time we get together as a family and celebrate our friends. We decorate our houses, we share a meal, we give each other gifts, and we take a break from the world. Christmas is magic. It’s the time of kindness when normal people allow themselves to almost believe that miracles can happen. I want to have a Christmas, Orro. And I want you to make an incredible feast for it.”
The big Quillonian bowed his head. “As you wish, innkeeper.”
Wing set the object he had whittled onto the table. “Done.”
He’d carved a remarkably lifelike version of Kiran Mrak. It was only a foot tall, but the face was unmistakable, and the detail in the feathers and even the folds of his tunic was exquisite.
“Wing, that is beautiful. You have talent.”
The small Ku regarded the statue and held out his hand. “I’m ready.”
Orro put a long metal skewer into Wing’s hand. The tip of the skewer glowed bright red.
“What is that for?” I asked. Wing was the last person I would trust with a heated skewer.
Wing focused, chanted something under his breath, and stabbed the statue.
Aaaa!