Then why do we not explain it to him now? Lareet let her ears fall. “I don't like this.”
“And I do? He helped at my last bearing of daughters. He picked Ylata up as she crawled from my womb and placed her in my pouch. Do you think I want to harm him?”
“No, no, of course not.” Lareet waved the suggestion away as they rounded a comer. “But—”
A father stood in front of them, wide-eyed and stoopshouldered. He stared, as if just on the edge of understanding or remembering. Lareet bowed until her ears brushed the pavement. Umat copied her motion. This was a blessing. The city security teams were gently leading the fathers to the ports so they might be with the mothers, sisters, and daughters. There were only a few left free to be guided by the World Mothers to their destinies.
The t'Therians penned their fathers, and haggled over them like cattle, Lareet knew. It had always appalled her. How could you haggle over a creature driven solely by destiny?
The father shuffled toward them. He ran his hands across Lareet's ears and down her back. Her skin shivered.
Umat raised her head, and looked to Lareet.
“What do you say, my Sister? One more bearing? To remember what is at the heart of all we do.” She held out her hand. “To mend our quarrel tighter than blood and soul?”
“You can't mean it.” Lareet half laughed as she straightened up. “My belly's all but gone flat. I've got no room in me for more daughters.” Still, the father stroked her shoulders softly, almost reverently. A tension she had forgotten she carried relaxed inside her.
“The father does not think so.” Umat touched her forearm.
“I can't,” said Lareet, although regret ran through her. “We're going into combat, Sister, how can I take daughters with me?”
“We're coordinators, not combatants,” Umat reminded her. “Sister, it would be a fine thing to help birth your daughters one more time.”
“It would be a fine thing indeed.” She saw her sister's eyes shining in the fading sunlight. She wavered, then made her decision. Destiny drove the fathers, so destiny brought them here.
“I hate this part.” She untied the waist of her trousers and let them fall. Startled, the father backed away.
Umat laid her hands on Lareet's shoulders. “Everybody does.”
“It's just so drafty.” Lareet wrapped her arms around her sister's shoulders. “Promise you'll be there at the birth, as you are at the beginning.”
“I promise.” Umat held Lareet close, embracing and supporting her.
The father found his own way. The rocking weight against her back took Lareet's balance, but Umat steadied her. Lareet felt Umat's warmth, her strength, the absolute assurance that had always been Umat's gift, flow between them. She drank it in gratefully.
When it was finished, they embraced one more time, and Umat stood her up straight again. Lareet pulled her trousers back up. The father blinked sleepily, combed her ear once, and wandered away.
“May you father more daughters than there are stars in the sky!” Lareet shouted after him.
“Oh, good, my Sister!” Umat laughed. “Bring the whole city running!”
“Why not?” She laid a hand over her belly guard. “Let us ad begin again.” She flicked her ears toward her sister. “What do you say? Shall we chase after him for you?”
Umat laughed loudly. “Mothers forbid! We're going to have enough trouble with yours. That took long enough it's probably going to be a full six. Come on.” She slid her arm under Lareet's. “Let us get you home before your scent brings all the fathers in the city out of hiding.”
They strolled back into the main streets, cutting across the lines of traffic streaming toward the port. Lareet felt sympathy for them. She wanted to tell them to go home. The relocation wasn't going to happen for months, if it happened at all.
But this I promise you, my Sisters, as I promise my daughters in my womb. When our world is saved, the t'Theria will no longer walk on it to plague us.
Resaime picked her way down the plane's ramp, pressing close to Aunt Senejess's side. Every muscle under her skin was wire-taut. She stared at the crowds not with curiosity, but with a feeling she was fairly sure must be fear.
Crazy. This is crazy. She ticked off the names of the Getesaph she knew, the ones she went to school with and played with when she and her sisters were small. Why was she so afraid of them all of a sudden?
Because these are not those Getesaph. These are the ones who will kill you if they find out who you are.
“Loose your hold a bit, my Daughter,” murmured Aunt Senejess in her ear. “Act like you are coming home, not walking out to feed the sharks.”