by Shannah Jay
'And yet you and Davred chose to leave her there.'
Katia's expression was bitter. 'Could I have brought a one-year old child along with us? No. My duty to the Quest, to our Brother, is stronger even than a mother's love. Davred and I both knew that she must stay in Tenebron. Maybe we shall meet her again one day.'
Carryn bowed her head, not knowing what to say, not wanting to dwell on the sadness about Siri-Soo, and not wanting to show how envious she was of Katia's happy anticipation of the birth.
They walked slowly back to the camp, stopping twice to wait until Katia's contractions had passed.
Although Carryn kept glancing fearfully at her companion, Katia remained serene, her attention focused on the changes occurring in her body. She had put aside her grief about Siri-Soo. Why, wondered Carryn, could she not follow Katia's example? Why could she not accept what her Brother the God brought her?
Herra was waiting for them in the birthing tent used by all the women of Quequere. 'I have everything ready,' she said calmly. 'Do you wish to lie down for a while, Katia, or would you like to continue walking around?'
She talks as if it's no more than a toothache, thought Carryn rebelliously. This is going to hurt Katia, probably give her agony, and none of them seem to care.
'I'd rather walk around. The contractions are not really urgent yet. I think I'll go and tell Davred.'
'I've already told him it would be today.'
Katia smiled and embraced Herra. 'Who can hide anything from you, Elder Sister?' she teased. 'Where is he?'
'Helping prepare the midday meal.'
'I'll join him for a while.'
Carryn made to follow her out of the tent, but Herra's hand on her shoulder stopped her. 'Don't go, child.
I need to talk to you.'
Carryn stiffened. 'It's no use, Elder Sister. I can't change how I feel.'
'I know. It's not that. But I'd like you to help at this birthing.'
'Me! What do I know about birthing?'
'Too little. That's why I want you to stay. You need to be thoroughly aware of what your own body is approaching, and Katia will be an ideal teacher. She gives birth easily, working with her body, not fighting it.'
Carryn's face was closed and hostile, her eyelids lowered to hide her thoughts, but she knew better than to argue with Herra. 'As you wish, Elder Sister.'
'I not only wish, I insist. And while you're waiting, you can bathe Quereth, who's still weak from her birth.
That was an untimely fall for a woman in her condition. It's fortunate I was here to help her.'
'Yes, Elder Sister.' The voice was toneless.
Herra watched Carryn set quietly about her task, but she sighed at the rigidity of the child's back and the anger that emanated from her. Benjan was the only one who could make Carryn relax at all lately, but having succumbed to Quinna's blandishments, he was not always there to help. She smiled to herself. Quinna had fought long and hard to get Benjan into her bed. One couldn't help liking a woman who lived life with such earthy gusto. Quinna had been good for Benjan, helping heal the pain he still felt about his sister and taking his mind off Carryn - who must solve her own problems and grow up before she would be able to return his love.
Carryn had taken what she regarded as Benjan's desertion very hard and had become even more moody, but Herra had encouraged him to form the relationship with Quinna and she hoped it would result in a child.
It was good to spread the seed of those who carried sanity and the God's Gifts in their lines. There was something very wholesome about both Benjan and Quinna.
It was not good for Carryn to act as if she owned Benjan. No one should be so dependent upon another, or so demanding of attention. However bad the experience the child had gone through, it was time and more that she came to terms with it. Maybe she would have been able to do so if she had not been pregnant. But that was not really an excuse. Life didn’t always bring one pleasant experiences and the Kindred didn’t train its members to rail at destiny. Herra hoped Benner's offspring would be healthy and survive. It wasn’t the babe's fault that she had been conceived in such a dreadful way. And she carried the best of Benner's long line within her.
'Brother,' murmured Herra, 'it's very hard that you won’t help me to heal Carryn completely. Why must she cling to her pain?' But there was no answer, although she had asked this question many times.
Katia and Davred returned to the birthing tent an hour later, laughing softly together. Herra went to greet them, hands outstretched. 'Are you ready to settle down now, wild girl of the forests? You can't give birth out here.'
'Yes. More than ready. The contractions are coming quite quickly now.'
They all went into the tent and Katia removed her clothes and put on a short, loose birthing gown. Carryn followed them reluctantly, not daring disobey the Elder Sister, but not wanting to be present at this birth. As it progressed, she fetched and carried as Herra bade her, but her face remained closed, her feelings hidden as she stood by the birthing stool.
An hour later, the first child was delivered, a silver-haired boy. He was followed almost immediately by a dark-haired brother. Both boys howled loudly until they were laid together on the fur rug Katia had retired to after the birth. Then, as if each sensed the other's presence, they stretched out tiny hands, touched each other and quietened down.
For a moment, it seemed to Herra as if the sounds of the camp receded, and she saw, faintly outlined against the beige felt walls of the tent, the High Council of the deleff. No one else gave any sign of noticing the apparition so she said nothing, but she felt a sense of relief when the outline faded and her vision returned to normal. The memory of the disorientation she had experienced in Dsheresh Vale was still vivid. She felt a sense of apprehension. She’d hoped they’d seen the last of the High Council. Why were the deleff still monitoring what the Kindred did? Did they intend to prevent them from turning eastwards and re-entering the Twelve Claims? Or was it the baby they were interested in?
The twins were strong, feeding easily, crying little and seeming to see clearly from the first day. They named the blond child Erlic and the dark-haired boy Alaran. Katia and Davred, immersed in the innumerable duties of rearing two infants, seemed to withdraw into a little world of their own during those first weeks after the birth. Quedras allocated them a tent of their own, at the rear of the camp, in the safest place, then even he left them in peace.
Herra, watching carefully, saw with relief that both Katia and Davred enveloped their sons in a cocoon of love that was almost visible. Indeed, Davred sometimes seemed intoxicated with the joys of fatherhood.
Dark-haired Alaran was the more placid of the two, a happy child who soon outstripped his brother in growth. He cooed and gurgled cheerfully at whoever held him, unlike his brother who would only tolerate being held by certain people.
Erlic's strange silver eyes, too knowing for a tiny babe, would follow his mother around whenever she was near and, on the rare occasions when he cried, only her touch could comfort him. He was less attached to Davred, but seemed happy enough to be held by his father. Erlic smiled less often than his brother, but when he did, the smile had a charm all its own, the fey smile of someone different, even from his earliest days.
At night, the two babies would only go to sleep if they were laid side by side, their hands touching, their bodies pressed close.
* * *
The days spun on towards winter, and Those of Quequere redoubled their efforts to gather and preserve food. In this task, Fiana and Cheral were able to make the greatest contributions on behalf of those whom the community now called Herra's Squad.
Fiana soon learned enough foothills lore to transfer her skills and became a hunter whose success rivalled Quedras's own.
Cheral had an instinct that verged on the miraculous for finding nuts, berries and other chance harvests of food. She also knew the best ways to preserve and store what she garnered, and she taught Quedras's people a few new techniques that pr
omised well for the late winter's eating. In fact, she was in her element here, managing the care of the community as she had managed the Novices in Temple Tenebrak. Those of Quequere welcomed her skills whole-heartedly and took no offence when she taught them new ways. Survival depended on the best use being made of everyone's skills.
When the first light snow fell, Quedras gave the signal to pack up and retreat to the caves that honeycombed the rocky outcrop they called Quequere's Quoin.
He chose to climb up to the Quoin with Herra. They passed through the sparse woods of spindly trees, then across some rocky terrain with low-lying shrubs only in the hollows, coming out on an apron of ground in front of the cave complex.
'What does your community do during the winter?' she asked.
'Very little.' He shrugged. 'Winter is boring. But we're helpless. Snow lies deep for three to four months.
Few animals are awake to hunt, so we sit and wait it out.'
'There must be some things to do,' said Herra mildly. 'Weapons to care for, daily tasks.'
'Not enough. I like to keep busy. Drives me crrazy, sitting there for months. Good thing I have Querilla to argue with. She stops me going mad.' He grinned as Herra shook her head at him in mock reproof. He knew how she disliked their bickering.
A few people, including Quinna and Benjan, were left in the summer camp to oversee the final packing up.
Two days later, they followed the children and older folk up to the Quoin with the rest of the equipment.
'Any trouble?' Quedras asked them.
'Not so's you'd notice,' said Quinna cheerfully. 'The Rimrascals have been a bit nervous of us lately. They don't like the way Herra's Squad fights.'
The caves at the Quoin were larger than Herra had expected. Light was supplied in the outer chambers by holes cut high up in the rock, as well as through the doorway. Those areas were for communal use. Several passages led away from the rear to smaller chambers, unlit and used only as sleeping quarters, but somehow these were still well ventilated.
Behind them, nearly on the other side of the Quoin, were the storerooms, again lit and ventilated by holes high in the walls. Cheral took one look at the way the stores were scattered around the place and commandeered the nearest squad of people to help her re-organise them.
At a nod from Quedras, a group followed her orders and spent over a week sorting through last year's remaining stores, and arranging the new supplies. Her voice rang out sharply from dawn till dusk, but her expression was that of a woman fulfilled and happy.
Herra watched her with a wry smile. Only she knew how their nomadic way of life galled Cheral, though her Sister had never voiced her dissatisfaction. Unlike Carryn, Cheral accepted what their Brother sent them.
The children of the community continued their lessons in another large chamber at the rear of the main cave complex.
'There'd be more light for them in the front chamber,' said Herra. 'Why do they have to strain their eyes in that dark corner?'
'Safety,' said Quinna, who was standing near the entrance, gloomily watching the snow whirling past. 'Later on, there'll be raiders, even in this weather. Occasionally some Rimrascals try to catch us by surprise with an early raid, and later, when their supplies run out, there are always groups of them who band together to try to steal ours. We keep a careful watch all through the winter, day and night, though it doesn't matter as much just now - it's rare for them to try anything so early. We've always got someone up in the lookout, though, just in case. Those scruffy Rimrascals have never succeeded in taking this place, but they haven't given up hope.'
Herra wandered along the short, curving entrance passage that kept most of the cold winds at bay. She stood just inside the main cave looking thoughtfully at the occupants, who were sitting in groups, talking, gambling, carving pieces of rock or making new equipment - anything to keep themselves occupied. Quedras sauntered over to join her.
'Boring, isn't it?' he asked, swishing at his leg with a stick.
She smiled. 'I don't get bored that easily. Let's hold some classes.'
'Classes? In what?'
'In all sorts of things. Quall is trying to learn some of our Healing Disciplines. We of the Kindred need to improve our fighting skills. All of us need to keep our bodies fit. Let's share our knowledge before we leave you in the spring!'
'Ha! Good idea! Why not?' He made no comment on her reference to leaving, however. They would see about that when the time came. The more Quedras got to know about Herra and her squad, the more he valued them.
In the second week of their stay in the Quoin, Carryn bore her child, a plump girl with a distinct look of the House of Benner in her slanting eyes and high cheekbones. Carryn took two days to give birth and bore the pain stoically, but when they tried to put the baby in her arms, she recoiled.
'No. I don't want it,' she said. 'I can't love it. Let someone else care for it! Quereth has enough milk.'
Cheral took the child and cradled it in her arms, wondering whether to force the issue. Benjan, who had been waiting anxiously outside, heard what Carryn said and came right into the birthing cave. He took the child from Cheral and carried it across to the bed where Carryn was lying, her body rigid and a tight, distressed expression on her face.
'When you were young,' he said sternly, 'did your parents not love you?'
She stared up at him dully.
'Well! Answer me, Carryn Nel-Merryan!'
Never had Benjan spoken to her in such a sharp tone. Her eyes filled with tears and she looked at him pleadingly, but he only repeated the question. 'Your parents! Did they not love you?'
'Yes. They loved me. Why don't you leave me alone! You don't understand what it's like to give birth!
You're a man!'
'And did you learn nothing from that love?' he continued implacably. 'Did they love you in vain?'
'I - I don't understand!'
He gestured to the baby whimpering in his arms and seeking blindly for a breast to suckle. 'If you turn your face away from your own child, you deny the love your own mother bore for you and, far worse, you allow Those of the Serpent to leave a taint within you. Shall you treat your own child as cruelly as Those of the Serpent treated you?'
She burst into loud sobs, but his face didn’t soften.
'I cannot care about you, Carryn Nel-Merryan, if you turn away from your own child. I cannot gather with you, or share a healing. Love is what binds us together as Kindred. Deny love to those in need and you deny the love of our Brother.'
Her sobs became louder.
'Choose, Carryn Nel-Merryn! Choose the Kindred or the Serpent! There is no middle path.' He held the child out towards her, within reach, but not putting it in her arms.
His voice softened slightly as he watched the squirming infant. 'Look at your child, Carryn! Can you really turn your face away? She's very small and helpless. Shall another raise her?' When she did not reply, his voice became stern again, and seemed to echo around the birthing cave. 'Shall you walk with the Serpent, then? Or shall you do our Brother's bidding, and live in love? Choose, Carryn! Turn this child's Gifts to use in our Quest! Negate the evil that created her!'
A light was dawning in Carryn's eyes. She stared at the baby, really looking at the infant for the first time.
'Why - it - she looks like my mother!' The mother she had last seen lying headless in the dust, murdered by Those of the Serpent.
He said nothing, moved not, though the baby wriggled and mewled in his outstretched hands.
The minutes crawled slowly past, then tentatively, very tentatively, Carryn's fingertip touched the cheek of the baby. The tiny hand flailed out and grasped her finger with a strength that surprised her, and with that grasp seemed to take hold of her heart. Slowly, hesitantly, Carryn reached out and took the baby from Benjan.
Still moving like one in a trance, she uncovered her breast and gave it to the child. And when it began to suckle, she began to weep softly. Benjan came to put his arm round her and smoothed t
he hair gently from her forehead, kissing her tear-wet cheek. 'Welcome back, little Kinswoman!'
Cheral, watching from the entrance to the chamber, was awe-struck at the way the God had worked through Benjan. He will be a Key Life, she said to herself in wonder. This, too, I must remember.
* * *
By the end of the winter, Those of Quequere and Those of the Kindred had shared many skills. As spring approached, they had to use all their fighting skills to fend off several raids by desperately hungry groups. The last ones were so weak and emaciated that Herra stilled them all on her own without much effort.
Quedras was not pleased. 'Why did you capture them, crrazy woman? If we keep them here, we have to feed them - and worse, we have to watch them every minute for treachery.'
'Why not let them join your community? They could form a new squad.'
'These? What have they to offer? They can't even look after themselves through a winter!'
'They won't be a liability for long. They're young, with bodies which can soon be improved by food and regular exercise. It'll mean one less group to fight next summer. In fact, it's time you started uniting all the other groups and putting an end to the conflict on the Sandrims, as you have dreamed of doing.' She’d been preparing subtly for this moment for several weeks and he didn’t immediately spurn her suggestion.
'Unfortunately, that's not possible yet, old woman.'
'Why not?'
'Those other groups have got leaders who'd soon try to take us over. I'd be as crrazy as you, to bring potential enemies into my own camp before we're much stronger! I'd spend all my time fighting off challenges for leadership. Besides, this land can support only so many people. There just isn't food to be found for everyone.'
'You could grow more food.'
'I'm a hunter, not a farmer! I don't want to spend my life digging in the dirt!' He spat on the ground to emphasise his disgust.
Herra laughed. 'You'd have no time to dig, Quedras; you'd be too busy keeping everyone in order. It's the older people and the children who'd do most of the digging, after the first year. They'd produce your food, better food than you get now and more of it. And then,' she added casually, 'when you'd got all the Sandrims under control, you could go exploring, find new land, more fertile land, further away from the sand.' Her eyes grew luminous. 'I think, Quedras, you should consult with Quequere about this, for I feel very strongly that it's what will happen one day, whether under your leadership or not.'
