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Zinatethry is curled up on top of the cabinet in cat form, enjoying a not-quite-nap in the elusive sunbeam of the one oddly-placed window when her Papa comes storming into the room, Dad trailing nervously behind.
"Being a research wizard does things to people," Papa fumes.
"It's not an unreasonable spell," Dad points out. "The babies--"
"It's not an unreasonable spell to invent, I suppose, although I don't think it's healthy to be dwelling on them enough for it to occur to you--but maybe it was necessary for some reason, to develop the conception spell--I won't claim I'm not grateful to her. But publishing it! It's one thing to cast it discreetly in the environs of the houses, but what if someone gets it into their head to use it in public!"
"That wouldn't happen."
"Wouldn't it?"
"Dearheart, Leelufalesh is not normal," Dad says firmly. "Even her--family--aren't like her. I've never felt anyone with an empathic signature like hers." He shudders delicately. "And she's not--she champions that child of hers like it's an appropriate topic to--well--but no matter what she does, nothing is going to spread. If anyone wanted to--they wouldn't have to fly to do it."
...Zina is intensely curious, and it sounds like it might be about--well, shrens--which means her dads aren't going to stop talking around it. She leaps delicately off the cabinet, assuming human form before she's gone more than a few feet down, easily absorbing the impact in her larger shape.
"What's wrong?" she asks, blinking innocently up at Papa. Dad--who, as a malachite, cannot be fooled by a face that doesn't match her emotions, gives her a Look--but Papa doesn't notice.
"Zina! I'm sorry, I didn't realize--I'm sorry. It's not the sort of thing I'd have brought up if I knew you were there."
"It's my fault," Dad says, rubbing his forehead. "I should have said something, but I was distracted."
Papa looks like he really wants to agree but can't think of a way to do it without being an asshole. Dad gives him a wry smile that communicates clearly that this is evident to him, and he appreciates Papa's restraint.
"But if it's--I mean, something dangerous, shouldn't I know?" Zina persists.
"No," Dad says firmly. "There's no danger, your Papa is just being dramatic."
"I am not just being dramatic," Papa hisses indignantly.
"You're letting that horrible woman color your expectations for the rest of the world," Dad says bluntly. "Yes, she and Avetlarin are both research wizards. Yes, Avetlarin has made--questionable decisions. That doesn't make them the same! She's copper," he adds, before Papa can argue, "if she were anything like Leelufalesh, her own family members would have noticed and done something about it when there was still anything constructive to be done. Or warned people, if there wasn't."
Zina bit her lip, and thought about things that would make her nervous--she wouldn't be able to fool Dad's empathy if he were actually trying, but as long as he was focused on Papa and not her, she might get away with it, or at least generate enough plausible deniability that he wouldn't call her on it.
"But what is it? If there's something scary and I don't even know what it is, how can I know if it's really a problem or not? I mean, you say it isn't, but--if it's something to do with Avetlarin--if something were wrong with the conception spell she invented, that would be really bad!"
"--Oh, it's nothing like that, sweetheart," Papa assures her. "She just--invented another spell--and published it, and I don't think she ought to have."
"...I think publishing spells is generally a good idea?" Zina asks, and she doesn't have to fake any of her confusion.
Papa gives up on circumspection. "It's about shrens," he says flatly.
"--But I thought the spell she already invented would prevent shrens already?"
"No, yes, that's true--it's a spell to let them fly."
"I. What." How would that possibly be a problem. "How could that possibly be a problem."
"It's not a miracle," he says firmly. "Flying in natural form--nobody wants--them--to be in natural form, ever."
"...Well, if it could contribute to a miracle later, then it might be important? And--I mean--red groups--it's not like there's no reason to be in natural form that isn't...already accessible," she says reasonably, "If there's any risk of, um, people being in natural form who shouldn't, because of casting the spell, they can just...not cast the spell? And people who might have something useful to contribute can see the design."
"--Yes, you're right," Papa says, some of the tension going out of his shoulders.
"I told you you were overreacting," Dad clucks affectionately, pushing a lock of hair out of Papa's face.
"I'm going to go for a walk," Zina says, while the two of them are distracted.
"Good idea," Papa says, "get some air, get the topic out of your head."
Zina nods, carefully not reacting to that in any way, and walks caaaalmly out the door, and goes for a walk down the street--
--until she's far enough away that Dad won't be able to sense the empathic signatures of anyone he's not especially familiar with, and then a little farther, to their regular meeting place.
"Luciwinaleejizorina," she sings.
