Voice of Crow (13 page)

“What is it?” Her voice pierced the darkness at full volume.

“Nothing. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s all right.” She covered his hand with her own and drew it over her bulging belly. “I have all day to sleep and do nothing else. You don’t need any more scarves.”

He smiled at the thought of the pile of wool scarves she’d knitted for him during her bed rest, which Silina the Turtle had prescribed a month ago.

Though Rhia had put on weight faster since they’d returned to Asermos five months ago, the Turtle woman was disturbed by the occasional spikes in Rhia’s blood pressure. They occurred in those rare moments when Skaris’s voice broke through the walls she’d constructed in her mind. She had told no one but Coranna and Marek about the Bear who haunted her.

Fortunately, Marek’s baby nightmares had stopped. His sleep was still restless, however, due to the street noise outside their small house beside the hospital. He wondered if he’d ever get used to living in Asermos, a village ten times the size of Kalindos.

“At least held captive in here,” she said, “I can avoid strangers who want to touch my stomach.”

“Good. Only I’m allowed to pet you.” He tried to sound casual as he asked, “Did he turn over today?”

“No.” She quickly added, “Silina said that’s normal with three weeks to go. If he’s like this in another ten days, she’ll try to flip him.”

Marek fought to calm his breath. “What happens if you go into labor before he turns around?”

“Then we’ll do our best.”

“If he comes out breech—”

“Don’t worry.” She smoothed the hairs on the back of his arm. “It’ll be harder that way, but in the end Nilik and I will be fine.”

“Please don’t say his name yet,” he whispered. “It feels like bad luck. If something happens—”

“Shh. Nothing will happen. You’re supposed to keep
me
calm, remember?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know why you’re scared. It won’t happen to you again.” She pushed his hand behind her. “Forget your worries by rubbing my back.”

He obliged, welcoming an excuse to touch her. As he stroked the muscles around her lower spine, he nuzzled the back of her neck. She groaned deep in her throat.

“Marek, you know we can’t.”

“I know. I wanted to show the effect you still have on me.”

“I should feel grateful you’re not one of those men repulsed by their big puffy wives.”

“On the contrary,” he said, kneading the wide, strong sinews across her back, “I can’t wait for you to have this baby so you can get pregnant again.”

“Ha! He’ll be an only child. I can’t face all this pain and sickness twice.”

He knew she would change her mind in a year or two, especially in light of the Raven prophecy, which they’d agreed not to mention again until after Nilik’s birth. The more children they had, the more likely one would grow up to take Raven’s Aspect. In these times of uncertainty, Marek wanted to increase their odds as much as possible, as long as it was safe for Rhia. “I see Arcas brought more art supplies today,” he said.

“Clay,” she said. “I made a vaguely dog-shaped blob and a vaguely bird-shaped blob.”

“Is that what they are? I thought they were doorknobs.”

She giggled. “You can tell I’m not a Spider. Thank you for not being jealous of my friendship with him.”

“The wedding and very obvious baby make it clear which one of us you chose.”

She shifted and sighed, and at first he thought the conversation made her uncomfortable, but the pattern of her breath turned quick and uneven.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

Rhia held herself motionless for a long moment. “My back.”

“I know.” His palm tried to soothe the tight muscles. “It’s no wonder you’re stiff, lying here all day—”

“That’s not it.” Her voice held a new edge. “This is different pain.” Her hand shot to her lower abdomen, and she drew a sharp breath through her teeth. “Marek, I think the baby’s coming.”

His hand froze. “No. No, it can’t come yet. It’s too soon. Maybe this is more false labor.”

“I told you, this is different.”

His mind blanked. “What do we do?”

“Go next door and get Zelia. She’ll send someone for Silina.”

“Right. Of course. Zelia.” He tossed back the covers and leaped out of bed—unfortunately, not in that order. His feet tangled in the blankets, sending him sprawling facedown on the floor. “Oof!”

Rhia burst into laughter at the sound. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“It’s not funny.” He extracted his feet from the blanket and reached for his boots. “Why aren’t you worried?”

“It would only make things worse. Besides, that’s what I have you for.”

He grumbled an oath that was incoherent even to his own ears, then ran out of the house.

His knuckles were raw from knocking by the time Zelia came to the hospital door. “The baby’s coming,” he shouted.

The Otter frowned through her drowsiness. “Are you sure?”

“Rhia’s sure. But isn’t it too early? He hasn’t turned over yet.”

“We might be able to stop the contractions. I’ll bring blackhaw tea. In the meantime, keep her lying on her left side, and keep her calm.” He turned to dash back to Rhia when Zelia caught his arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “Keep yourself calm, too,” the healer said. “If she’s in labor, it’ll be hours if not days before the baby comes. Don’t waste your strength fretting.”

Marek knew he couldn’t obey.

When he entered their house, Rhia had lit the table lantern and was pacing the floor, her hand on the far wall to steady herself.

“No!” He ran to her and held her up, though her legs seemed sturdy. “You should be in bed. Zelia said we might be able to stop the contractions. She’s making blackhaw.”

“I’m sick of blackhaw. It tastes like bark.”

“That’s because it
is
bark.”

She took his arm and made him look into her calm green eyes. “If I thought there was a chance of stopping it, I would. But I can tell it’s too late.” Her face shone with a new light as she stroked his cheek. “Let’s meet our son.”

He took a deep, ragged breath, closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. I’m not ready, he thought. “Let’s do it.”

Several hours passed without incident. When the contractions came more frequently, Rhia moved to a room in the hospital equipped with a half-upright birthing bed, on which she now sat while Silina examined her. Despite the healer’s demand that he save his strength, Marek paced the floor.

“Don’t you worry.” The Turtle woman lay a plump arm over Rhia’s shoulders. “I’ve seen everything, and my powers are greater than when your mother and I worked together.”

Marek’s shoulders loosened a bit. Like Zelia, Silina had entered her third phase last year when she became a grandmother. Unlike Zelia, Silina’s demeanor was pure softness and comfort. Between the two healers, Rhia had access to more sophisticated care here in Asermos than she would have had in Kalindos. But old memories plagued Marek’s mind.

A knock came at the door, and he went to answer it, relieved at the distraction. It opened a crack before he reached it.

“Are we too late?” piped a familiar voice.

Rhia gasped. “Alanka!”

Marek’s Wolf sister shoved open the door and threw her arms around his neck. The embrace was short-lived, as she rushed over to the bed to greet Rhia. “We thought we’d be early, but Silina said—” She stepped back. “You’re huge!”

“Thank you. I think.” Rhia crinkled her eyes at Marek.

Alanka’s face reddened. “I mean, for someone so tiny, you’re rather—I’ll be quiet now.”

“Who else came with you?” Marek said.

“Coranna, and our new Crow—Well, not exactly new. You remember Damen? He’s back from Velekos for his second-phase training.”

“Damen made his second phase?” He wondered if he remembered the wrong fellow.

“Another Crow?” Rhia’s eyes lit up. “When are they coming?” she asked Alanka.

“They’ll be here when the time gets closer. That’s when I’ll leave. I don’t do well with human blood.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Rhia pulled Alanka to sit on the bed with her. “I want to hear about everything going on in—Aaugh!” She doubled over, or would have if her belly hadn’t prevented her from folding in half. Marek rushed to her side. She motioned to him to help her stand, then pointed down.

“On the floor?” he said. “Why?”

“Just do as she asks,” Silina said. “Wherever feels best for her. But put pillows under her knees.”

Rhia’s face twisted into a grimace, her breath coming too hard to speak. She grabbed his wrist and squeezed until he thought the bones would pop.

“What should I do?” Alanka asked.

“Keep talking,” Silina said. “And get a cool cloth to wipe her face. She’ll be working hard for a while.”

Alanka fetched the cloth and began to describe in mind-numbing detail the past several months of her life. Marek was glad to see that his Wolf sister had regained some of her usual animation, though her voice was still shadowed. The cloud that had hung over her at their wedding seemed to have thinned, though not disappeared.

Morning passed into afternoon, and the contractions came and went with no discernible progress. Silina’s assistant arrived, along with Zelia and one of her female apprentices. The four women’s placid faces betrayed no sense of peril, but Marek knew the labor wasn’t going well. Rhia was tiring, her muscles already weak from a month of bed rest, and her face grew pale and slack.

After a particularly hard contraction, they rested together on the slanted bed, her back to his chest, while Silina examined her again. Rhia’s head lolled back on his shoulder, and she moaned in frustration.

“You can do this,” he whispered to her.

“Is it too late to change my mind?” she said.

“About going into labor?”

“About getting pregnant.”

Everyone laughed except Silina. She seemed to peer through Rhia’s skin as she lay her palms over the baby’s body. Wisps of long blond-and-gray hair stuck to her sweat-soaked face.

“There’s a slight problem,” she said. Marek heard the forced calm in her voice, and suddenly the room reeked of fear. “His foot is extended. It’s the toughest position to deliver.”

Marek shuddered. It was Kalia all over again. He couldn’t watch Rhia die, too.

“I might be able to change his position,” Silina said, “get his legs up for a safer breech presentation.” She looked at each person in the room. “This ritual requires everyone’s silence and clear-minded focus. Rid your thoughts of fear and pain so the magic can flow like water, the element of Turtle.”

“I need to speak to Coranna,” Marek said.

Silina nodded to her assistant. “Bring in the Crows to help.”

“I need to speak with her alone,” he said. “Now.”

Rhia stirred in his arms. “Marek, what’s this about?”

“I’ll be right back.” He slid his leg from around her and got to his feet. “Alanka, hold her up while I’m gone.”

“You’re leaving me?” Rhia’s eyes widened. “Now?”

“This is for you,” he said, and slipped out the door.

In the waiting area, Coranna and Damen stood when he entered. Marek approached Coranna so quickly she stepped back.

“Promise me you’ll do it this time,” he told her.

“Do what?”

“Take my life for hers and the baby’s if they die.”

“Marek, I can’t.”

“I won’t let you betray me the way you did with Kalia. If anything happens, you bring them back, with my time on earth as Crow’s ransom.”

“You don’t understand.” Damen stepped forward. “She can’t bring Rhia back to life twice.”

Marek looked between them. “Since when?”

“Since always,” Coranna said in a level voice. “Remember when Rhia revived on the mountain, then nearly died again as she recovered?” He nodded, and she put her hand on his arm. “I said I couldn’t bring her back a second time, and that meant forever, not just that day.”

Marek ran a trembling hand across his face. “Then trade my time for Nilik. If he doesn’t make it.”

“Marek, he’s so young. If he’s meant to live a long life, it could kill you.”

“I don’t care about my life.”

“Rhia cares.” Coranna’s voice hardened. “How would she feel if I took her husband? You think she would choose the child over you?”

“She should.”

“She wouldn’t, and I would never burden her with that choice. I’ll let Crow fly as He will today.”

The door to the delivery room opened, and Zelia poked her head out. “Come now. We’re ready to begin.”

Marek turned to look at the front door, which seemed to beckon him away from the scene of blood and pain. No father should endure the sight of one son’s simultaneous birth and death, much less two.

He wiped away the last tear for a woman and child long gone, then led the others into the delivery room.