brand new colony

He's in the Menw for weeks. When they finally let him out again he's been evaluated by what feels like every psychiatrist on the planet, put on physician-approved medication for the first time in his life. They refused to tranq him after the first week and the lengthy trauma of withdrawal has taken its toll on him; he's thinner than before (which is saying something), haggard, deep circles under his black eyes. He has the haunted look of refugee.

At first it's hard to tell any real change. He's always been quiet, always unwilling to look people in the eye. Arthur won't have him in the city, so he and Eluned move back to the Shea homestead, living in one of the furnished outbuildings off the main ranch. It gives El the support of her family, since Lianor and Gahereth also live close by.

It takes Gadriet another week to be willing to sit outside -- the first one he spends in bed, refusing to talk to anyone but El. Finally he starts coming out onto the front porch, where he sits under a lap blanket and watches the cows grazing.

For now that's all he does.

It's been a good year for them. The Shea business is flourishing, and the estate is getting bigger as Mr. Shea buys more of the surrounding land parcels from the government in Camallate. Gahereth and Lianor have been living in Shea's house since they're marriage, but for their first anniversary he throws a party for them and announces that he's furnished one of the old barns for them.

So after the party they start moving their things in, and by the time dusk falls on the estate the barn is beginning to look a lot like home.

When the last of the boxes has been unpacked Lianor throws herself down on the sofa, beaming.

"It's so big! Look at all this space we got! Lord, it's nice."

Gahereth hasn't seen his brothers since the burial; he's been at home, and the most any of them have heard from him in the last three days has been through Lianor. But this morning he's up early, and after breakfast he turns up at Medraut's door.

Though he's finally had a decent night's sleep, he's still got dark circles under his eyes and looks a little drawn. But he smiles thinly at Lenomie when she opens the door, and when Medraut comes into the room he's settled in and sipping coffee.

There hasn't been rain for two months, and Lianor is standing in the dust of the graveyard outside Til Tomeil, looking at the holo marker they set up for Geffreyn.

The reddish dust has already turned the hem of her white dress, and despite the heat she's hugging his arms, her hair blowing all around her face. Geffreyn, dead. Geffreyn, and next two him in two much smaller graves Aguerisse and Gwyngalet, Gwalchmai's older sons; the youngest, Gwidon, was too young to follow his uncle and brothers. The oldest grave is Gwalchmai's wife, who died a few years ago of a fever, and Lianor can't help thinking that it might be a mercy, to die before seeing your sons killed.

Gwidon is with Medraut and Lenomie and Melian; Gwalchmai's in no state to comfort a child right now.

She wipes her hand over her eyes and heads back to the Shea farm. It's not right to be away so long, not when her husband is home grieving. Twenty minutes later she's in front of the door, trying to straighten her hair and make sure her eyes are dry before she goes in. No sense in weeping when Gahereth needs her.

She takes a breath and opens the door.

"I'm home, darlin'."

Red is not really the best colour for Lianor's complexion, but she does look radiant to-day, in the crimson gown and headdress, with silk flowers woven into her long hair; Eluned is less striking, but then that's the whole point of the double wedding, to keep Eluned and Gadriet in the background. Given the way Lianor is glowing, it's not terribly difficult.

Mr. Shea weeps openly during the ceremony (both daughters married on the same day -- by Shea standards it's a miracle tailored to the clan). Afterward the monk ties their hands together with red ribbons.

Then it's the reception, and Gahereth and Lianor get to sit through all the toasts, of which there are nearly as many as guests, and then wine and food and dancing and incredibly loud music that goes on until nearly midnight before people start to trail off to their rooms. Gahereth is subjected to a fair number of winks and jabs with elbows and particularly unsubtle comments about deflowering his bride by departing guests, but eventually they manage to escape, and Lianor locks the door behind them with a giggle of relief.

"Oh, my Lord."

At the end of the week Medraut takes Saigremort back to the capital, and after the most cursory of check-ins immediately leaves again for Til Tomeil. He's had time, on the flight back, to realize exactly what's just happened; and on the second and longer trip he has more than enough time to figure out what he's going to do about it.

Not that he ever has any real doubt.

It's late afternoon when he reaches, on foot, the little house on the outskirts where he and Lenomie have been based for a year now. He swings lightly up the steps, hesitates a moment, and then lets himself in.

If she's being honest, Anna's glad to head home from the Medical Academy over intersession break. She's told her classmates that she wishes she could stay -- they all have plans for the social season that's about to spring up -- and she put off a research internship to give herself time to go home. But she doesn't regret her decision; she misses home, she misses New Britain, and she misses her sister.

Besides, the trip home will allow her to accompany Marguel back to the Academy so she can start her own studies. And then they'll be together, and no end to what they might accomplish.

By the time she reaches Til Tomeil, she's both wound up and half-exhausted, all at once. She drags her own bags in through the back door, and then shouts up the servant stair, just as if she hasn't been away for over a year, "Mèimèi, come make my tea!"

If he were someone else, nursing this sort of infatuation -- his brother Geffreyn, for instance -- he might find excuses to go back to Til Tomeil and see her. But he's Medraut, and that means the more he looks forward to it the more severe he is with himself. He sticks to the schedule, and it's another two months before he heads out that way again, in the dry cool of early autumn.

Dry until he gets there, in a sudden pouring rainstorm, turning the streets to pure mud where they still aren't paved, which is most places. He stands disconsolately under the eaves of the stable, with his travel bag over his shoulder, trying to work up the nerve to make a dash across the street. It's not like he can get any wetter.

In the end it's a little more than a month before Medraut is back in Til Tomeil. This time he makes arrangements first, securing a bed in the cleaner of the two small hostels, and changes into clean clothes before he heads for the shop.

If pressed, he'll say that he's checking up on the sheep operation, but this is quite frankly a pretext.

Come morning, Nomie wakes in her cot in the shop with the first pale light of not-so-distant sun, yawning and pulling the wrinkled, ugly dress back into a semblance of order. Her hair is sticking up a dozen places and she looks sleep-bleary and fuzzy as she wanders down the hall to her own room, slipping inside silently and rifling through her closet. At first her hands hover over her usual work overalls, and then she glances over the man sleeping in the bed.

She bites her lip, makes a face, and straightens the dress instead, then goes to the tiny wedge of mirror on the wall to tie her hair up.

The sheep having been imported at non-trivial expense, they still have to reach Til Tomeil in good time, good health, and reasonably good order. Medraut didn't exactly volunteer to see the whole production safely down, but Gwalchmai can't be spared and Geffreyn refused point-blank, and while there is a long list of assignments he'd rather have had, at least it gets him out of town.

The fact is there's only so much time he can spend in Camallate before it starts getting him down. Even if it weren't for Arthur's carefully casual manner -- wish he wouldn't play dumb, he ain't any good at it -- or old Merdhin's hostile looks or Geff's continual complaints, the place itself unsettles him. It's too different from what he's used to, and at the same time too comfortable; he's not used to fitting in so seamlessly, and he resents it.

So he's willing enough to escort the woolly bastards to where they need to go, along with the supplies and the small knot of people with more expertise than self-sufficiency. By the time they get to Til Tomeil -- a forgettable town, far enough from the borderlands to be sleepy-quiet, not far enough to be particularly prosperous -- he's nearly relaxed.

Not entirely. His mother was born here, after all.

But enough that, safely inside the city limits, he leaves the party to sort themselves out and moves off to explore. He's only been here briefly before now, and if he's not going to head straight back to the capital he'd just as soon have a good look around.