The dinner.

Autumn spent time with a large group of Brusian children for the remainder of the day, in an effort to make her more acceptable to the Black Tribe people. Autumn was always great with children and was looking forward to raising her daughter.

“The end.” Autumn completed a story she was telling the smiling children when Chris Alan walked in fully changed to formal dinner wear. The one incongruous note was Shalhevetyah strapped to Chris Alan’s hip, but given the circumstances, Prince Brian had allowed for that. Autumn had to go to dinner unarmed, but with her husband and two Guardians protecting her, she had no qualms about that. 

“All right, children, run along,” said Autumn. “The banquet’s coming soon.”

“Winning the hearts of the parents through the children; very clever, wife of mine,” Chris Alan said with a smile after the children had left. Autumn rose from her seat to greet him with a kiss and then proceeded to fix his shirt.

“Yes indeed, it is. You look very handsome in charcoal gray; it’s been too long since I’ve seen you in that color.”

“I’m just glad Brian let me wear it instead of black,” Chris Alan replied. He and Autumn had Summer complexions, not Winter complexions. Black truly did set off the latter, but it simply made the former look pale. Both of the Starbrights were very sensitive about the choices of colors in their wardrobes.

“You look beautiful in that burgundy silk dress Brian got for you, glowing.” Chris Alan returned her kiss.

“Thanks. I hope I can get chocolate too; I’m craving some.” Autumn still looked curvaceous, though her belly was twice as large as it normally was, and her face was more radiant than ever.

“I’ll ask Prince Brian to get some for you.” Chris Alan gave her a concerned look.

“I’m feeling fine.”

“I didn’t ask.” Chris Alan held her right hand and led her down to the dinner hall.

“You were thinking it.” She gave him a little nudge as they walked.

“I thought *I* was the mind-reader in the family.”

“Why, Christopher Alan, didn’t you know Enoshi females are natural mind-readers?”

Chris Alan chortled; most women he knew, even among the Adamim, certainly seemed to have a latent talent. “Especially Protectors?”

“*Most* especially Protectors.” She laughed. “You are so silly sometimes.”

“Sometimes? *All the time*. It’s what you get for marrying an Inspirer.”

Chris Alan took Autumn’s face in his hands and rubbed his nose against hers, causing Autumn to giggle. “You just be careful, Autumn Selene,” he admonished playfully. “Behind this serious exterior, there’s a total screwball trying to get out.”

“Bring him on!” Autumn drew Chris Alan as close as her pregnant self would allow and yielded immediately to the deepest kiss he could possibly give her. It went on for a long, long time. When they came up for air at last, Autumn hugged Chris Alan fiercely before finally letting him go.

“Wow,” Autumn sighed, “after that I might not *need* any chocolate.” They were both dizzy from the kiss and the embrace, very happily so.

“I’ll see that you get some anyway.” Chris Alan was still holding her at arm’s length.

Autumn sighed. “Alan dearest, why can’t it always be this way: no fighting, no people scampering for their lives, and no need for Chris Alan Starbright to intervene?”

Chris Alan’s face became serious in its turn. “Believe me, darling, I wish it could be so. But as long as Darkness is out there, I have to plunge into it at times – whether I really want to or not.”

“You know I’m proud that you’ve accepted your role for what it is – but sometimes it feels like all we ever do is move from one battle to another and one trial to another. When will it end?”

“In its own time,” Chris Alan replied with a sigh. “I know for certain that it *will* end – but not *when* it will end.”

“Imagine if there were no apostates: no Nicholas, no Callista and no Edwin.”

“I do, all the time – with the absolute certainty that it will happen, so long as we do our part.” Chris Alan smiled gently. “But that kind of certainty doesn’t seem as natural to you, which is strange. Your ability to foresee consequences, all else being equal, should be stronger than mine.”

“And somehow it isn’t, not where it counts – not even after four hundred Standard Years.” Autumn wondered, not for the first time, how and when her husband (who was still in his twenties) had become so much older than she. “Sorry, I don’t want to grumble, but I’d prefer my daughter growing up in a safe and peaceful Realm where she wouldn’t have to face trouble.”

“Crystal was *conceived* to face trouble, darling.” Chris Alan kissed her forehead. “As the Chemist, she’ll have the best qualities of both of us, which means the Realm had better start worrying about *her* rather than vice versa. Come on, our hosts are waiting for us.”

In a little while the couple came into the great banqueting hall with their Guardians in tow. Slate was already present, talking up a storm of past exploits; the Brusians seemed quite taken with his tales of battle.

“I see that Slate’s making friends,” Autumn pointed out.

“I knew he could do it if he applied himself.” Chris Alan pulled her chair for her and Autumn sat first.

“Now that all of our guests are here,” a large Black male shouted, “let the ceremonial dance begin. Please eat, drink and enjoy the show.”

Black men and women came out to the sound of heavy drums on the left of the hall. Staying in two straight lines, they were chanting in Brusian a song about “hair like the sun” – a song which Chris Alan again decided not to translate for the others. The dance was powered by the drum and then supported by the guitar like strings while the wooden flutes played a minor role. The voices equaled the drum in volume, rhythm and power. They danced in three interlocking circles.

“I think they’re forming some kind of pattern,” Autumn remarked. She clapped with the drums as she ate dinner (and snuck a few bite-sized chocolate bars in between). “Is that what I think it is?”

Indeed she was correct. Slowly but smoothly, the three circles stretched out and changed to form the Catalyst glyph, a symbol which Chris Alan often drew to represent himself. After that, the dancers started dancing backwards, causing the symbol to spin in reverse until it changed to the Adamic letter *mem* (which also stood for *water*).

“I think they’re asking me to make it rain.” Chris Alan said dryly as the dance came to a stop.

“What a pity you can’t do that,” said a calm, even voice. “The dance was great all the same, don’t you think?”