"Yseult," the Brucolac offers. He leans back. Ishtar has caught the strain of her brother's thin wail and started up a harmony, putting her stronger lungs to the test. "Shh, shh, Ishtar, leechling, come now," he croons, whisperish voice very difficult to hear, coaxing her into gnawing again at his thumb.

"Yes. But Aly...will mother them. They're hers in all but blood." He glances up, about to say obviously this must be kept quiet—but sod it, Saralegui knows that.