With that, the feasting began.
Kalie ate a little, and spoke with a few people, but soon decided that what she really needed was rest. While a lavender twilight played beautifully above the hilltop town, she made her farewells, insisted she needed no escort, and began the short walk home.
At least, it should have been a short walk. But the contractions were coming more often as she walked, rather than disappearing as the midwife said they would. Just as her home came in view, Kalie realized she was having trouble walking. It’s just up ahead, she told herself, irritated with her sudden weakness.
“Kalie?” asked a concerned voice. It was her neighbor Jula, who was moving toward Kalie at an impressive speed. “Why are you out here alone? Here, let me help you to your home.” The older woman quickly had one arm around Kalie’s waist and was guiding her to her door.
“I just need some rest; maybe some chamomile tea for my stomach.”
“You need a midwife and your family,” said Jula. “How could be out walking alone when you’re in labor?”
“Labor!” cried Kalie. “No, the baby’s not due yet. These false contractions are simply—“
“The real thing,” said Jula. There were many people about, heading home from the feast, or returning after bringing children home. Jula hailed several, instructing them to find Riyik and Varena and hurry to get the midwife.
“But it’s not time,” Kalie said faintly as she fought a wave of panic.
At that moment, a rush of fluid told that her water had broken.
“Well I guess your baby disagrees,” said Jula, guiding Kalie into the house.
Chapter 16
Kalie’s home was soon filled with women who had given birth, and were ready to offer advice, comforting words, or just a hand to hold. Sarella the midwife arrived soon after, followed by a nervous Riyik. Varena came in next, looking equal parts excited, worried and determined to be helpful.
“Too many people!” Sarella called out. She chose two women. “You and you! Make yourselves useful. Get her birthing blanket, clean cloths and hot water. I will need a lot of hot water. And cool water for her to drink as well!”
Two women Kalie had met early in her stay at Stonebridge moved about her house with great efficiency. They found the leather hide Kalie had prepared on which to deliver the baby, and unfolded it on the floor by her bed. Soon water was boiling and Sarella had all the tools of her trade arranged neatly on a table near the bed.
Varena sat beside Kalie on the bed, sponging her forehead with a cold wet cloth. When the water arrived, she fed it to Kalie in tiny sips.
“Good,” said Sarella, sending Varena an approving look. “You’re young, but I see you’ve helped with births before.”
“Where I come from,” said Varena, sparing a glance at the many herbs, cups, and the strange tool that looked like two spoons joined together, “sometimes this was all we could offer to help. A woman’s body was supposed to know what to do on its own.”
Sarella shook her head, but had no time to comment on barbarian customs. She instructed Kalie to lie back on the bed with her knees apart so she could examine the baby. Kalie was surprised by how little pain the woman’s probing fingers caused her—but that could have been because the contractions were causing so much of it.
“It’s too early!” Kalie gasped between pains.
“Your baby thinks otherwise,” said Sarella. “You seem close to full term—close enough for the baby to live, at any rate. How near the harvest festival was the conception? Your best guess?”
Kalie was in no condition to explain that on the steppes there was no harvest, or any season called autumn. But she knew why the midwife was asking: the summer solstice was just days away—perfect timing, if the child had been conceived at the autumn equinox.
“After, but I’m not sure exactly how much. Perhaps half a moonspan?”
“Then it’s nothing to worry about. Babies can come early by more than that and still thrive.”
Quite against her will, Kalie began to thrash and moan. “Give her this.” The midwife handed Varena a steaming clay cup. Varena fed it to Kalie as slowly as she had the water, and Kalie detected several herbs she recognized. Bitter, and not even sweetened with honey as she expected, but she knew this brew would help ease the pain.
“Kalie,” said Sarella, taking her hand. “You’re doing fine. This will be an easy birth—but a slow one. You should have someone with you just to hold your hand and talk you through it. Someone’s who’s been through it before,” she clarified in the face of Varena’s indignant look. “And someone who can stay for the whole thing.”
“Brenia,” Kalie said without even thinking, clenching her teeth against the next contraction.
“Breathe!” ordered Sarella. “Slowly.”
By the time the medicine began to take effect, Brenia was there, telling Varena to take a rest, and taking her place on the bed beside Kalie. Martel stood in the doorway, assessing the situation, then blocking Riyik, who tried to push past him.
Kalie sighed with relief when she saw Brenia. Gripping the older woman’s hand Kalie’s whispered. “Brenia, I think I’m dying. There are things you have to tell Riyik…”
To Kalie’s shock, her friend began to laugh. “Why are you laughing?” Kalie was nearly in tears. “I might not survive this birth and—“
“I’m laughing because I said the same thing with my first baby!” Brenia took Kalie’s other hand and squeezed both. “Listen to me: I’ve spoken with Sarella. This is a perfectly normal first birth. You are not going to die. You’re just going to reach a point when you’ll wish you could.”
Unfortunately, Riyik caught some of what Kalie had said. Forgetting for the moment where he was and everything he had learned about the customs of this new people, Riyik pushed his way past Martel, grabbed the midwife by the arm and shouted, “Do something, you fool! I swear by the gods, if you let her die—“
As if it were a cue he’d been waiting for, Martel crossed the room, removed Riyik’s hand from Sarella’s arm, and with surprising strength, propelled Riyik to the door. “Come with me,” he said throwing an arm around the terrified man’s shoulders. It seemed a friendly gesture, but he kept Riyik moving at an impressive clip. “We’ll get some wine. I’ll teach you the toasts we make here for a new baby, and you can teach me the toasts you make on the steppes!”
“We can’t toast the baby before he’s born,” Riyik said helplessly, trying to look back, but finding his view blocked. “It would be bad luck.” At that, he shivered.
“Then we’ll drink to something else until he’s born,” said Martel. At that point, they were joined by Borik and Durak.
“I think we’ll be drinking to a lot of things before this night is over,” said Durak.
Borik nodded grimly.
Back in the birthing room, Kalie tried to explain Riyik’s behavior, but couldn’t quite get the breath to speak.
“His first wife died giving birth,” Brenia said quietly.
Sarella nodded. “I thought as much. Fortunately for everyone, that’s not going to happen this time. Relax, Kalie, and don’t start pushing until I tell you.” She hurried to make another drink for the laboring mother.
After that, things became easier. The pain eased, Kalie learned to breathe with the contractions, and Brenia kept her busy with stories from the steppes and gossip from the town. When Brenia needed a break, another woman seamlessly took her place. Toward dawn, Kalie was able to doze between contractions. While awake, she could swear her companions were repeating the same stories, but soon that didn’t matter, as she was no longer sure what was dream and what was real.
And then, just as the sun began to rise, and Kalie finally fell into a reasonable sleep, Sarella was shouting, “Get up, it’s time!”
Then it seemed an impossible number of hands were pulling her off the bed, positioning her so she could squat above the birthing blanket, and holding her upright so she could more easily bring the child into the
world. Sarella held one hand, Brenia held the other.
“Push!” Kalie answered Sarella’s cry by pushing with all she had. There was pain, but more than that, Kalie felt a sense of power. As if, for just a moment, she had become the Goddess Herself, so involved in the act of creation there was no room for anything else. She pushed again with the next contraction, so hard she feared the baby would shoot out of her and strike the ground with the force of it.
“I see the head!” Sarella called from far away.
That’s all?
“Again, Kalie!”
Her body responded without any conscious thought, only a tremendous sense of relief.
“Here he comes!” That was probably Brenia.
Then came the most beautiful sound in the world: her baby was crying.
“Just one more push, for the afterbirth,” said the midwife, as Varena mopped Kalie’s damp forehead and wiped the sweat and tears from her eyes. Sarella cut the cord, and cleaned the still crying baby with simple, efficient motions borne of long practice.
Kalie lay back on the leather mat with a sigh of relief. “My baby?” she whispered.
Mother, greet your daughter,” Sarella said formally, setting a linen wrapped bundle into Kalie’s arms.
“A girl!” Kalie stared in wonder at the tiny form in her arms, barely aware as the women cleaned her up, eased her into her bed, and tucked her in as if she were the new baby. The baby’s cries stopped as she met her mother’s gaze. For a moment, they just stared at each other, brown eyes meeting dark blue. Everything about her, from the brown fuzz of hair to the tiny toes—with nails, even—was perfect.
“Can I see my new sister?” Varena asked shyly. Kalie shifted the baby so Varena could see. After a long, serious look, Varena grinned. “Just remember, you’re the youngest. I’m firstborn here! Don’t get any ideas.”
Pushing his way in from behind Varena, Yarik climbed up onto the bed. He stared intently at the baby, but did not look very impressed. “I’m older than you, too,” he said. Then, looking around at all the excited adults asked, “When will she be big enough to play with me?”
“Not for awhile yet, I’m afraid,” said Brenia, keeping a careful hand on her nephew.
The other women in the room all laughed, then resumed their cooing, and exclamations of how perfect the baby was, and laughing at Varena, who was now running to the door. “I’ll go tell Riyik!” She called over her shoulder.
“Good luck being first with that news,” laughed Sarella.
Brenia climbed onto the large bed beside Kalie. “May I see her?” she asked. Kalie nodded, but instead of looking at her as Varena had done, Brenia took the baby, setting her on the bed, and unwrapped the blanket.
“What are you doing?” Kalie demanded. “She’ll get cold!”
“Yes!” The single word rang from Brenia’s throat like warrior’s yell of triumph.
“Brenia?” Kalie looked around, making sure the midwife was still there, and wondering if Brenia had lost her mind.
“Kalie, look! It’s the same as Riyik’s; the same as mine!” Kalie followed Brenia’s gaze to the infant’s left shoulder, where Brenia was gently tracing a bright red birthmark.
“A strawberry,” said the midwife, clearly not sure what the excitement was about, but used to seeing all manner of craziness from relatives. “It’s perfectly normal, and the color will fade in time. They often run in families.”
Slowly, Kalie began to understand. “Riyik’s looked just like this when he was born,” Brenia continued. “Haraak never had one. His arms carried scars, nothing more.” She bundled the baby back into her blanket, and handed her back to Kalie. “She’s Riyik’s.”
Kalie let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “I hadn’t thought of Haraak at all during this whole experience.” Kalie held her baby in the crook of one arm, and gripped Brenia’s hand tightly with the other. “And now, I’ll never have to again. Thank you, my sister!”
Riyik came into the house at a near-run and went straight to the bedroom. Some of the men who’d kept him company during the night waited in the main room, others hovered in the doorway.
“Varena, get food for our guests,” Kalie began, before realizing Varena was nowhere in sight.
“It’s being taken care of,” said Sarella as she bundled up the tools of her trade, kissed Kalie and the new baby on the foreheads and made her farewells. But Kalie could hear the sounds of neighbors moving furniture and setting out food and drink. Then she forgot about all of that because Riyik was kneeling at the side of the bed, his eyes moving from Kalie to the bundle in her arms. He reached out to the baby, and then froze, his hand hovering uncertainly above the tiny, wiggling creature.
“You’re all right?” he asked.
“Fine, Riyik. Exhausted, but fine. Now, take a look at your new daughter.”
Riyik peeled back the blanket with one finger, as if afraid to touch the infant within. “A little girl,” he whispered. “She’s beautiful!”
Kalie grinned. “That’s not how you do it!” She picked up the baby and set her in Riyik’s arms. He looked terrified. “Didn’t you hold Yarik when he was born?” she asked, concerned.
Riyik shook his head. “Not until he was much older. And after Yasha died, I left him with Brenia. I was away for much of his first year.” The baby began to cry. Riyik looked helplessly at Kalie, who quickly scooped up the tiny creature and put her to her breast. She latched on easily. There was no milk yet, but the cries stopped.
“You’ll be able to spend more time with this one. If you want to, that is.”
“I want to very much.” Riyik was still gazing in wonder at the woman before him who was now mother to a new life that had only just sprung into existence.
“You’re not upset that it’s not a boy?” Kalie tried to sound casual and failed.
“No, of course not!” Riyik sounded truly shocked, and Kalie could find no hint of deception. “I already have a son. Now a daughter. And a chance to raise them both.”
As if on cue, Yarik freed himself from whichever woman in the next room had been holding him, and came barreling onto the bed. “Careful, little man!’ Riyik said, catching him before he could hurt the baby.
“It will be good for you to spend more time with Yarik, as well,” said Kalie. “Having a new baby in the house can be hard for someone his age. He’ll want to know we still love him too.”
Riyik fell on his back—a safe distance from where Kalie sat in the bed nursing the new one—and tossed Yarik up in the air. Yarik squealed as his father caught him, and then tossed him again. “That part, I think I can handle,” Riyik said, then began making rude noises with his mouth, which delighted Yarik even more.
“You’ll do,” Kalie muttered. “So what shall we name her?”
Riyik sat up, surprised. He hung Yarik upside down over the bed to allow himself time to think. “That’s not done by the mothers in this land?” he asked.
“Usually, it’s both parents who choose the name. Although we can involve as many people as you want to. People love to suggest names.”
Riyik shook his head. “We can manage.” He settled Yarik on his lap. “What should we name your sister?” he asked, while Kalie nodded in approval.
“Purple!” said Yarik without a moment’s hesitation.
“Purple?” asked both parents together. Yarik nodded, but offered no explanation. It was, apparently, self-explanatory.
“Maybe something more…feminine?” suggested Riyik.
“We can name her Yasha, for his mother,” Kalie offered tentatively. A look of sadness clouded Riyik’s face for a moment, and then disappeared. “Or my mother,” she added quickly. “She died when I was just ten. I don’t think anyone has been named for her.”
“What was her name?”
“Melora.” Kalie’s voice was soft with memories.
“That’s beautiful,” said Riyik. He gazed down at his sleeping daughter. “Just like she is.”
Varen
a entered the room carefully, carrying a steaming mug. “Sarella says to drink this,” she whispered, as Kalie set the baby down on the cushion beside her and accepted the mug. “At least two a day. I’ve already got the herbs brewing for the next batch.”
“Why isn’t she here with you now?” asked Riyik.
“The birth went well,” said Kalie. “It’s not like I’m sick, in need of a healer’s constant attention.”
“Although you’ll get it anyway,” said Varena. “The constant attention, at least.”
That seemed to satisfy Riyik. “We were thinking of Melora for a name,” he said to Varena. “What do you think?”
Varena looked again at her little sister. “Perfect,” she said.
“Yarik?” asked Kalie.
The boy shrugged and nodded, much more interested in the string of beads and wooden boat two of the guests had given him.
Riyik and Kalie exchanged very silly grins. “Then it’s settled,” they said together.
Interlude
Varlas, king of the Wolves of the Gods, sat in the shadowy coolness of his tent, enjoying a break from the searing heat of early summer on the steppes. He also enjoyed the ministrations of his new slave women, taken from various defeated tribes, as Varlas’s pack crashed through the west, always victorious, as if they truly were the gods’ own wolf pack.
A man’s voice outside the tent, requesting entrance, sounded a discordant note to the soft whispering of the women. Normally, Varlas would have been angry at the interruption, but now he only barked an order for the women to leave, and rose to dress.
“Enter,” he called to his second in command.
“My king.” Garvas bowed briefly, then got straight to the point—one of the things Varlas valued in the man. “The captured warriors have proven most useful. King Kariik plans to move his entire tribe west before the winter.”
Varlas gestured for his second to sit, and produced a skull filled with kumis, which they shared. “They have known of the west for years, yet they think to leave now? Fortunate for us, but perhaps not so much for them.”
Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3) Page 13
