Holiday
Part Thirteen

by Nightfall

He hadn't even been allowed to wear a white shirt. The blue suit he'd been bribed into had looked snazzy on the hanger, with its sparring black zebra stripes, but as he'd known it would, it made him look like he was wearing nothing but a few strategic straps, a pair of dress boots, and a tan. Indigo. Something.

Val owed him big time for this.

The mazoku in question (who, he grudgingly admitted, was dressed even more tastelessly than he was and was dealing with it with much better grace) flipped the front half of Zel's cape back over his shoulder, exposing the lining and the suit again. "Stop fussing. You look stunning."

Since they were in public, Zel repressed all eighteen of the remarks which came into his mind in answer to this nonsense, and asked instead, "Where's your brother?"

"Oh, he'll be down," Val said airily. As these were the words Zel had been expecting, he was surprised at how rehearsed and automatic they sounded. More naturally, and more anxiously, Val went on, "Of course he will. I'm sure he will." Zel looked at him funny, and he explained, "He hates big parties."

"Not this one, though," Zel smiled, thinking of his biggest supporter.

He was surprised to see Val's face freeze into a sort of rictus smile, and then his betrothed cried out, "Oh, look at Daddy. Look how happy he is. He's so excited." On hearing his name, Gaav, who did look marginally less grumpy than usual, turned and lifted a hand in greeting.

Val draped himself over the bannister and blew him a kiss. Having grown accustomed to this sort of filial affection of late, Zel didn't so much as widen his eyes. "He really likes you, you know. You've completely won him over."

"He's been surprisingly decent," Zel admitted.

"He put this party together all by himself," Val said proudly.

Somehow, looking over the regimented slow dance of badly dressed demons, Zel wasn't surprised.

Two of the badly dressed demons were looking back at him out of the corners of their eyes as they walked towards the stairs. Unabashedly, he stared at the large, frozen-faced ice-blond and the youth with the acid-green eyes sitting on his shoulders, and strained his long, elven ears to tune them in.

"Is that it?" Blond was asking.

"At least it's ornamental," Acid leered, and then broke into a terrifyingly broad grin as they reached Gaav.

"Those are our cousins," Val told Zel as greetings were exchanged. "The one who looks like Daddy fell into a vat of bleach is Dynast, and the short one is Phibrizzo."

"Quiet," Zel ordered, goosing him to make him shut up. "I'm eavesdropping."

"When are you going to announce the thrilling news about little Valgaav?" Phibrizzo was asking with an innocently eager expression. His calling Val 'little' was ridiculous.

"In my own good time," Gaav rumbled smugly. "It is to be a surprise."

"Well," the little demon said with a tinge of doubt in his voice, sneaking a look upwards, "Valgaav seems infernally happy... I haven't seen Xellos all evening."

"Oh," Gaav said, pretending not to look uncomfortable, "Xellos has asked me to explain his unfortunate bone-shattering migraine."

"Oh, yes," Phibrizzo agreed, pretending not to sneer, "Xellos's little headaches. We understand perfectly."

A little alarmed at this, Gaav hastened to assure them, "He'll come down before the announcement, of course."

"Of course," Dynast echoed emptily. "Whose bones is he shattering? Are we having gelatin later?"

"Er..."

"Just leave it to us," Phibrizzo rescued him sunnily, and they turned away and started upstairs. "What's the matter with that boy--Oh, Mazenda, you look mind-bending! --I wonder where she found those hideous jodhpurs..."

"Gaav's worried," Dynast uttered.

The shorter one snorted. "I'd be worried, if I'd spawned Zelas and Xellos."

"I disapprove of bringing an outsider in."

"I'd expect it of Xellos," Phibrizzo agreed, "but Valgaav? Bringing a common halfbreed--a mere shamanist, too--into the family without even any real name!"

"He has family in the White community," Dynast said with heavy condemnation, and Zel bit his lips to keep his face straight as the two hit the top of the stairs and Phibrizzo burst into another smile half the size of his head.

"Oh, Vally, how lovely!" the youth said without specifying. He turned to Zel and said, with a definite note of patronization, "I'm Cousin Phibby, and I'm soo happy about it. Oh, Vally, he is pretty, isn't he?"

"Dynast," the other announced, putting out a hand.

"Greyweir," Zel returned with equal brevity, taking it.

"A good family to marry into, Greyweir," Dynast proclaimed. "You're to be congratulated."

Fortunately, Zel had no eyebrows to raise at him.

Noting the slight purse of blue lips, Val hastened to say, "We all grew up together."

Zel bit down on the 'that's no excuse' that he really, really wanted to say.

Equally hastily, Phibrizzo gushed, "We've heard such wonderfulthings about you."

"Have you?" he asked with great courtesy and some interest. "From whom?"

Flustered, the youth stammered, "Er... uh... everybody," and hastened to change the subject. "It's a pity about Xellos."

"Frightful luck with those headaches," Dynast droned, and Zel looked at him with more respect. He was clearly out of some loop here, but he could recognize a dig when he heard one, and he hadn't expected it from the icicle.

"Oh, there's Zelas!" Valgaav said, and almost made it look natural. "We've been looking for her. 'Scuze us." He dragged Zel over to where Zelas was leaning on a potted plant with a flute of champagne in one hand and an enormous black cigar in the other. She was better dressed than almost anyone there, with a sleeveless ivory shirt on over a silkily heavy thigh-length skirt of the same color, and sandals that laced all the way up to her knees. "Zelly, did you talk to Xel?"

"How do you find Dynast and Phibby, Greyweir?" Zelas drawled. "Are you honored to meet them?"

"What did Xel say?" Val pressed.

"Cheer up," Zelas urged lazily, with an elegant flick of one hand that sent smoke skittering into her brother's eyes. "If you find them bloody-minded and dull, wait 'till you meet the rest of the relatives. More you know about us, more impressively we rise. In your estimation. Father wanted a family, so Mother had me straight off to oblige him. But I was a girl, so Mother had Xellos, who took after her, so it seemed hopeless. Then Mother had Valgaav, and great joy resounded from the mountains. It was an obedient and devoted son, and the armies could be safely passed on. It must have been a great relief to Father. He must have been very grateful to Mother. Drink to Mother, Greyweir. She tried to be a Rubyeye for a while, and then gave up and died."

"Nonsense," Zel said, almost gently.

Gravely shaking her glass at him, Zelas uttered, "But it's ...not."

"What did Xellos say?" Val asked again, impatiently. "He's coming down, isn't he?"

Zelas choked on a mouthful of champagne and, recovering, said sharply, "Don't make me laugh, Brother."

"What is all this about Xellos, Val?" Zel asked, torn between anxiety and exasperation.

"Nothing," Val muttered.

"Thaaaaat's right," Zelas agreed expansively, sloshing, "it's nothing at all, just one of Xellos's whims. The silly little puppy wanted to give his kind of a party." Honing her voice, she went on, "Between you and Father, you've managed to turn his celebration into a first-class funeral."

"He should have realized I couldn't announce my engagement quietly," Val snapped.

"Should've?" Zelas asked in that slow, deliberate way. "Sure. But unlike me, Xellos always hopes. Mud in your eye," she said to Zel, "To Xellos."

"Zelly," Val whined as she drained her glass, "You've been drinking since eight."

"So I have," Zelas grinned broadly. "On Long Night, too. Tsk."

"Make her stop," Val appealed to Zel.

"I will drink," Zelas said sharply, suddenly looking much less drunk, "exactly what I please at any party I condescend to attend." Relaxing back against the plant again and letting her long lids droop back to half-mask, she mentioned, "It's my protection against Father's and your tediou--devoted and obedient friends," she corrected herself with another, satisfied, grin. "Mourn for my baby brother, Greyweir," she commanded, waving a manicured talon in his face. "He doesn't have any protection." She snapped her fingers, and a wisp of smoke appeared with a tray of glasses.

Val growled, and stalked off. Zel watched him go, then studied Zelas and suggested with friendly concern, "Take it easy, will you?"

Zelas studied him back, then put her empty glass down and saluted lazily.

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