
It took about three years to finish all the babies. She had to get genetic donors who were sufficiently outside of her family lines for her to be comfortable with it, with wings in their heritage. She had to bribe the people to get space for the babies to grow, and she had to assemble supplies and gently conquer a small village to give them a place to grow up. She had to track down all her children and grandchildren and adopted children, every twig that connected her family tree to the great Addergoole root network, and get them to agree.
Some of those conversations could have gone better, honestly, but Zita was determined in her efforts and sincere in her passion. She'd owe Lot for ages for veiling her from farseers and foreseers and finders.
It probably would have been better to have more patience, to let things play out in time, but life was short and immortality was laughable, and she'd seen too many people die waiting for their oaths to be over. There had just been one death too many.
"Hello, Bethamin, Charles, Dorotea, Esteban. Hello, Georgia, Libya, Columbia, Maya. Hello Silver and Gold." She went on, touching each baby, rocking them in their identical cribs, smiling with wicked sharp teeth at her new charges. "I'm your grandmother Zita. Georgia and Libya, your mother is Bethamin. Charles, you're technically the mother of Columbia and Maya, but if that's the only thing that gives you a complex in life I will have done my job well. Dorotea, your children are Silver and Gold...."
Introducing all the rest of her generations of promised Addergoole students to each other took a while, but Zita was thorough. Names were important. Nine generations were promised, and nine they'd have - and then she'd be done with them, and her children would be done with them.
And if a tiny little girl in the back of her mind thought Director Avonmorea would like the chance to observe multiple generations in one four-year stretch, well, that tiny little girl always had had a crush on Regine. Moving on - there was work to do.