Autumn Pt. 01 Ch. 07

"Well, they tell me she didn't start it," Dom said with a frown. "Some guy named Lou Donacello did. And I guess we like him for that reason?"

"The same Donacello who throws those murder mystery parties?" He and Liz had agreed to go to the next one. Would that have political ramifications? If so, would that be a good thing since he was apparently an ally? Fuck. How was Frank supposed to keep track of shit like that when no one told him anything? And who had told his brother?

"That's the one," Dom said with a snap of his fingers. "Anyway, Grandma's the one people vote for." He looked around, noted that the girl who'd introduced herself had left, then lowered his voice anyway. Frank had forgotten to tell him that there was no need. "Everything's done by simple majority except veto overrides and presidential ousters. So if you've got six votes, you get your way. But there are five returnists and four leaf-biters."

It was almost starting to make sense. Frank hadn't forgotten that Liz had reservations about Noreen's leadership, which meant that he might as well, if he was better informed, but it was hard not to sympathize with his grandmother's basic position. Why challenge more established Courts over access to the mortal world when the one they had was so idyllic?

"You can add, so you've already realized that leaves two swing votes," his brother added. "If Grandma's going to oust Kaitlin, she needs the support of House Tuvalo."

Though that was plenty to chew on, his brother pushed the tray of sumptuous treats towards him. Frank decided to try some of the pumpkin fudge himself.

"The Council recently voted to let House Tuvalo expand," Dom told him. "If they hadn't, you and I wouldn't be here. Even after you're granted permission to have children, another vote's needed for them to join the Court." With a twirl his finger, as though stirring the empty mug, Dom refilled his coffee. Then he decided espresso would be better and the ceramic shrank. "There was this strange ends-against-the-middle coalition that let our mom and dad hook up. Everyone was counting on the same votes to let us into Autumn."

"But that didn't happen?"

Dom shook his head. "It wasn't just us, by the way. Cindy's brood were covered by the same votes. That was the two ends: Orwin and Farrier, leaf-biter and returnist."

"That's one way to refer to our cousins," Frank remarked.

"As returnists?" Dom asked, daring him to clarify.

It wasn't worth it, though.

"Point being, there was a defection, so another vote had to be rustled up. That didn't come cheap, though. Grandma was carrying a Tuvalo child when we celebrated Harvest, and Uncle Bobby should have put one in their daughter by now. Neither of those kids will be Orwins, though. Autumn's is a fucking matriarchy but Grandma had to waive her right to get their support. Now, they're all but guaranteed two seats on the Council."

Knuckling his forehead, Frank said, "How's that work?"

"Oh," Dom said with a dismissive wave. Who had time for such minor details? It wasn't like that sort of thing had enormous implications for who they married and whether they were forced to raise children they couldn't let themselves grow too fond of or anything. "Each of the major houses is guaranteed one seat; the remaining three are contested."

"Right," Frank said in a gently prodding tone.

"You get one vote for each member of your house, two when a minor house puts you at the top of their ballot, and one if they list you second. I don't know who came up with such a complicated system, but there it is. The Farriers always get two seats. The Goldsteins and the Donacellos used to win the other runoffs but one of those is gonna go to us now. House Tuvalo's gonna have a lock on the other after those two kids join the Court." With a grin, his brother said, "If you can't beat `em, fuck your sister. Procreation for the win."

No one was doing that, though. In fact, it was strictly forbidden, though by whom remained something of a mystery. Even without those stupid strictures, though, they'd need approval from the Governing Council. And who would vote to let a house expand if there was nothing in it for anyone else, not even a month's worth of custody?

"You know what? Fuck the nitty-gritty," Dom said. "Grandma had to let some dude knock her up for you and me to be here, and that guy decided that if Uncle Bobby didn't do the same for his daughter, he'd start voting returnist. It's a buncha political bullshit, but it doesn't really affect you or me. And there'd be nothing we could do about it even if it did."

"How do you know all this?" Frank asked, rubbing his temples.

"Brie told me," Dom replied. "She's been spending a lot of time with Grandpa."

That was news to Frank, but it didn't really surprise him that his cousin was willing to use her body to get information. By her own admission, she'd won a few court cases that way back in their echo of the mortal world. Frank had sometimes wondered whether she'd really done more than flirt with the opposing counsel, but there was no reason to doubt that she'd resort to such tactics in Autumn, where sex scandals wouldn't cost anyone their job even if they had an employment-based economy. Besides, Richard was neither hard on the eyes nor bad in bed. There was a reason Frank's mother used the man as a benchmark.

"Apparently, they had some doubts about you and Brie," his brother continued. "Can you think of anything you might have done back at the farmhouse that would leave Grandma and Grandpa with the impression that you're willing to challenge them politically?"

"Noooo," Frank said, scratching at his beard. "Wait, you mean kissing Brianna? Really?"

It wasn't just that, though. Anyone who doubted that Frank would blindly defer to his elders stood on solid ground. The same could be said of Brianna, of course, but she'd apparently made up for it between the sheets. If Noreen hadn't returned to the simulation, Frank would have been only too happy to implement the same strategy, but she'd probably be gone for about two years. "You said Noreen was pregnant at Harvest?" Frank asked.

His brother nodded.

That meant the womb he'd filled to overflowing on the train ride over had already been occupied. She'd been carrying another man's child yet had allowed him to cum inside her.

Frank had heard that an increased sex drive was a common side-effect of pregnancy, albeit one that wasn't talked about in polite company. The same had to be true of their kind. Perhaps even more so. Fuck, that was giving him a hard-on.

There were guys out there who had a pregnancy fetish. Frank had never thought that he was one of them, though. He pictured Noreen with a swollen belly and did not find it arousing. Yet the thought of her craving sex even more than usual absolutely did.

If he was being honest with himself, he'd admit that the whole cheating on the father of her unborn child aspect added something to it as well. Did it matter that his grandmother hadn't made any sort of commitment to the guy? That Mister Tuvalo had to know she'd keep fucking her family members whenever she got the chance? Not really, no. There was still something deliciously forbidden about it. Even more than usual.

"Anyway, that's not what I need to tell you," Dom said, clearing his throat.

"It's not?" Frank asked, chuckling in disbelief.

"Nope. Like I said, there's not really anything we can do about that situation. Just figured you might be wondering where they were."

The pumpkin fudge didn't quite remove the taste of politics from his mouth, but it sure was good. Everything at Talking Leaves was. Some would say there was too much sugar, but Frank figured fudge was supposed to be sweet. The pumpkin flavor was nicely balanced, too. "Thanks," Frank told his brother as he allowed another bite to melt in his mouth.

"One of us has to go spend a week with the Farriers," Dom said without preamble. He gave that a second to sink in before adding, "I think we should nominate Todd."

"Meaning you want Brianna and Natalie all to yourself for a little while."

Dom gave him a flat look. "That hurts, man. I mean, you're not wrong, but that hurts."

Frank chuckled. At least he was being honest.

"Seriously, though, you've got shit to work out. I don't want to hang out with a bunch of nerds any sooner than I have to. And Nat—"

"—would love to fuck Dad again," Frank interrupted.

Dom seemed to considered that. "Not as much as she'd love having threesomes with me and Brie every night," he eventually said. The egotistical shit probably even thought that was true, though he too had heard their sister complain about how much time their father spent with Aunt Cindy. Man, was Dom good at self-deception.

"As I understand it, we're all gonna have to spend a month there eventually," Frank said. "So it sorta doesn't matter; but screw it, I'll take the first turn."

"Why you gotta be a martyr? Let's send Todd."

"Are we on a reality TV show that we can just vote him off the island?"

Dom shrugged, admitting that Frank had a point.

"I don't mind. You could just as easily have said that I've got shit I need to take a break from as shit I need to take care of." As soon as the words left his mouth, Frank realized how true they were. He'd never tell either woman that he needed time away from them, but if it served the interests of House Orwin for him to step away for a little while, that would have its upsides. Volunteering to do the whole month at once would be a very different story, but a week in which he didn't have to apologize all the time, or feel as though he should, sounded blissful. "Besides, I always got along with Jack and Mark."

Perhaps Frank could head into town some afternoon. Maybe stop by Talking Leaves for a coffee. If Liz just happened to be there, well, it wouldn't be like they'd planned it. He wouldn't even care if Jack tagged along. His cousin was probably a fan of Shakespeare. Jack had been working as an acquisitions editor for the sci-fi and fantasy imprint of a major publishing house, and had majored in English. There wasn't a respectable university in the world that would let you do that without instilling some appreciation for The Bard.

"Nerds of a feather."

"Well, neither has an ass like Liz's, but I'll make do."

"I owe you one, man," Dom said, saluting Frank a ceramic shot glass.

"You don't owe me shit," Frank said, and not just because that was the appropriate thing to say. His brother didn't have tell him what Brie had learned from Richard. He knew that he shouldn't have, too. Hard as it was to believe, he'd stuck his neck out for Frank. Maybe not in a big way—it was hard to imagine Noreen doing anything to him if she ever found out about that—but he had. "If anything, I owe you."

"Just remember that you didn't hear any of it from me," his brother said, rather unnecessarily. "And play dumb once you get to the Farrier Estate."

"Todd would say I don't have play at that."

Dom snorted. "That's because he's an idiot. You're not, and so I shouldn't have to explain this, but you still seem to think of them as family. Their interests are not the same as ours, Frank, and you're a fool if you think they're not constantly trying to advance them. Grandpa thinks they're just fucking with us by calling this in so soon after we arrived, to lower morale, but Brie's worried they're trying to figure out what Grandma's up to."

"They don't know she's pregnant?"

"They know House Tuvalo was given the green light for not one but two births," his brother replied. "The Council doesn't get a say in who the other parent is, though."

"Wait, is it not common to have more than one kid?"

"Not at all," Dom said. "If Mom hadn't married a Farrier, you wouldn't exist. I still would, but not the rest of you. She'd have stopped at one, the way Aunt Liz did."

"Would you still be you, though?" Frank asked. "If you had a different father?"

That comment was too philosophical for Dom's blood, apparently. So he waved it away. "You're not required to tell the Council who you're marrying, because marriage isn't a big enough deal here to even bother issuing a certificate, but it's still customary to report that shit. People have noticed that House Tuvalo has kept its mouth shut."

"They've got to suspect Noreen already, then," Frank said.

"Why do you keep calling her that?" Dom asked. "Do you not think of her as family?"

"I do," he said. "But I don't like to overemphasize that. I feel it like that puts space between us at the same time that reifies our familial bond. Like you're constantly reminding yourself that you have a formal obligation to her because her blood runs through your veins when you should choose to be loyal because of how you feel about her personally."

"Hmph," was all Dom said. Until he took another bite of fudge, at which point he added, "Yeah I don't know about all that, man. No wonder they have doubts about you."

"I won't tell Kaitlin anything."

Frowning, his brother said, "I hear she can be quite persuasive."

Frank dragged his fingers across his mouth as if closing a zipper.

His brother sighed. "Well, this was fun. We should hang out more often."

"Agreed."

"Have you gotten much chance to explore Autumn? I mean, besides Harveston?" Dom turned and looked out the window, a wistful expression on his face. "Probably my favorite thing to do is just walk through the woods, blazing a fat blunt."

"Other than Brie, you mean," Frank said.

"I don't know, man. She's the shiznit and all, but it's fucking beautiful out there. And the kindest bud grows here. You wouldn't believe the high. It's better than sex."

"I doubt that," Frank said.

"Trust me, bro. You've never felt anything like it."

"No, but I've gotten a blowjob from Brie." To say nothing of the wonders visited upon him by Natalie, Noreen, Liz, and, most of all, their glorious mother.

His brother considered that for a moment while sipping his espresso. "Yeah, okay, I suppose the girl can suck a mean dick." They both chuckled at that. And, more than likely, relived a few private memories. "But I'm telling you this is nearly as good. I know Mary J's not your thing, but you've got to come on a hike with me and smoke a few joints."

"One of these days," Frank assured his brother.

#

A wistful smile spread across Frank's face as the wagon bounced softly down the dirt road. His brother was right; it really was "fucking beautiful" out there. One didn't need go into the woods, or smoke weed, to see that. The endless fields of corn and wheat, trees still full of colorful leaves even though they'd already blanketed the grass around them, and the babbling brooks with quaint covered bridges all took his breath away. Clouds filled the sky but did not darken it. They were so puffy and white that Frank couldn't help but feel weightless as he gazed up at them. All the concerns that had been weighing him down grew lighter. Not light enough to float away, perhaps, but he still breathed easier.

It hadn't been easy to leave without telling anyone other than Liz that he was going. He'd given Dom the impression that he'd wait a day or two before departing, and would have loved to wish his mother a long, slow goodbye. Yet she was the reason that Frank had changed his mind. The sort of man he was pretending to be in order to stoke her Libido didn't get sentimental about going a week without seeing his woman nor stop to think that she might. Would it frustrate her that he'd shoved off surreptitiously? Of course. That was exactly the point. He'd never do anything like that to Liz, who'd have been deeply hurt, but his mom was as likely to finger herself while cursing his name as she was to shed tears. He'd still been tempted to go to her, however, interrupt whatever fun she was having with her father, and remind himself of what he'd be missing over the next seven days.

"Who would want to leave this place?" he mused aloud as the wonders of their Court helped push all thought of his mother to the back of his mind.

Tilting his burlap sack around, his scarecrow driver regarded him silently. The stitches that served as Jim's mouth curved upward. Overhead, a flock of birds echoed the sentiment.

Curiosity had made Frank seek out a book on Autumn's wildlife, though he'd shown no interest in such things back in their echo of the mortal world. He'd thus discovered that the most common species was called a cardinal, even though it didn't match his mental image of one. Its plumage was dark red at the crown but faded first to burnt orange, then persimmon, finally turning bright gold at the tips of their tail feathers. Its song was sweet and chipper.

At one point, they passed a field dotted sparsely with apple trees. They weren't clustered tightly together, nor had Frank seen a house of any size for several miles, so he didn't think he was looking at one of the many orchards put to shame by House Orwin's.

He did, however, spot some gold and silver fruit.

For a brief moment, Frank considered asking Jim to stop the wagon. Nothing good would come of that, though. Once held in his hand, the temptation to bite into one the shiny, forbidden apples would be too great. He'd almost begun to wonder if they existed, that perhaps they'd misinterpreted the strictures altogether. Apparently not.

A good thing he hadn't sought his mother out, then. They'd only found time to get together twice since that morning in the shower, and she hadn't said anything more about "accepting his gift" either afternoon, but only a fool would think that pretending to have no idea what she'd meant by that would work forever. Sooner or later, Frank would either have to impregnate her or explain why he didn't think that was a good idea. And before he could do that, he'd have to convince himself. Perhaps those metallic apples would help.

"This is it?" he asked the driver after the horses came to a stop some time later. He hadn't entirely lost himself in thought, continuing to process visual data, but he'd been a little distracted. The last thing he'd expected was for their journey to finish in the middle of a country lane, in front of a house that was no bigger than the last few they'd passed.

The scarecrow nodded and pointed to its right.

Orwin Manor was built of bricks whose color would never fade and stood four stories tall. It was also perched atop a hill, surrounded by lush gardens and their fabled orchards. Whether seen from a distance or up close, their ancestral home left no doubt as to whether the occupants held a seat on the Governing Council. The Farrier Estate looked like it belonged in lower Westchester. It was undeniably beautiful, and the lawn and hedges were perfectly manicured, but that didn't set it apart from the commoners' dwellings.

Perhaps that was why they were more popular, though.

Well, one of the reasons. The last corn silo he'd passed was probably the largest in all of Autumn, as was the barn to which it was attached. Just a little farther down the lane, there looked to be a distillery-cum-brewery. Money might not mean anything here, but prestige and name recognition probably did. Frank wondered how much of what was served in Harveston's restaurants came from the Farrier Estate, and how many returnist votes that bought. He'd have to take a closer at one of the menus the next time he went out to eat.

"Thanks, Jim," he told the driver before climbing down from the wagon. The scarecrow waved goodbye to him then urged the horses on with a crack of his whip.

Whistling softly, Frank strolled up to the front door and rapped his knuckles against it.

In truth, though, the sense of calm and gaiety instilled by his journey was already dispersing. Several questions ran through his mind. What if he gave something away, inadvertently, that derailed Noreen's plans? What if they treated him like a prisoner? What if—