"Thank you," Gorren said, swallowing the lump in his throat as he took a sip of his drink.
The General waved his thanks away again. "See to the rest of the exercises before you visit the doctor. And see to it that your performance improves." He added with a smile, "I'd hate to be mistaken in my estimation of your abilities."
~o0o~
The doctor had been only too happy to accompany Gorren back to the cottage, and Gorren wondered if General Lorch hadn't perhaps spoken a word or two to the older man whilst Gorren had been occupied in proving that he was worthy of his commission.
Doctor Costerev was not one of the field medics who specialised in immediate care; he practiced more comprehensive medicine, in addition to the knowledge of healing needed for the battlefield. He was the most experienced doctor that the army could boast. Although his hair was silver white with age, the doctor had lost none of his vitality, or verve. His shrewd gaze missed nothing, and Gorren had personally benefitted from his care following several battles.
Gorren opened the door to the cottage, and welcomed the doctor inside. Before he'd closed the door, he heard the sounds of Elthrinn retching, and he knew that she was enduring one of her more difficult days. The doctor followed him as he hurried to find Elthrinn. She was in the water closet, crouched over a basin. She was pale and shaking, and the basin was empty. Gorren didn't know whether to hope that meant she had nothing left to throw up in her stomach, or that she hadn't been able to eat anything yet. She was weak and pale from the effort of vomiting, and lay limp in Gorren's arms when he picked her up and carried her to the bed. As soon as he laid her down, Elthrinn curled onto her side, hugging her knees to her chest.
It took a great deal of effort for Gorren to step back, and allow the doctor room to examine Elthrinn. He hated to see her so helpless and frail. She might have been much smaller than he, but her light had always filled the room, as far as he was concerned. Her warmth and humour had made their house a home. He busied himself fetching a mug of water for her, not knowing how else to help, and trying to make himself useful, to occupy himself so that he didn't hover over the doctor. The doctor allowed him to help Elthrinn take several small sips from the mug, and then returned to his assessment.
Gorren retreated to his chair by the hearth, to wait. From that seat he could watch the doctor, without making a nuisance of himself. He could hear the doctor asking questions, but he could barely hear all of Elthrinn's replies, which scared him. Her voice lacked any strength whatsoever, and was hoarse and raspy. He watched as the doctor, evidently having finished any physical examination, tucked Elthrinn under the covers, patting them into place in a fatherly fashion. The doctor also appeared to have finished his questioning. He came to join Gorren by the fire. Having been too distracted to prepare any proper refreshments, Gorren rose, and brought the doctor his own mug of water.
The doctor accepted the offered mug, but did not drink. "I don't know what to say," he shook his head. "There is obviously something not right with the young lady, but I cannot discern a cause for it."
Gorren knew a greater fear than any he had known on any battlefield. Doctor Costerev was possibly one of the most experienced practitioners in the country. If he didn't know what was wrong with Elthrinn, Gorren did not know where to turn. "Have you any advice?"
"Yes." The doctor drank, and nodded. "I treat soldiers. Male soldiers. I have little to no knowledge of maladies specific to the female of the species, and your young wife is not even of our species."
Gorren cocked his head to one side. He wasn't sure if that made the problem less complicated, or more so. "What would you suggest?"
"In all honesty, I would speak to your mother. If she cannot help, she will know who can."
Gorren pulled at his beard as he stared into the dying fire. He absently took one of the iron pokers from its hook, and poked the embers to coax them into a more enthusiastic blaze. "Will you stay with Elthrinn while I go to the hall?" He turned from the hearth to look at the doctor. "I don't wish to leave her on her own like this."
"Of course I will. You think your mother will come immediately?"
"For Elthrinn, yes she will."
The doctor didn't argue. Gorren left him by the hearth, to watch over his wife. He slung his cloak about his shoulders, and headed to the hall to speak to his mother for the first time in several moons.
~o0o~
Since Gorren had no wish to see, let alone speak to, his father or his brother, when he reached the hall, rather than walking in the main doors as he might usually do, he went to the entrance to the kitchens. The servants there were surprised to see him, but they kept their chatter to a minimum. At least one soul had taken the initiative, and run for the steward, because Dechard appeared as if from nowhere.
"Young master," the steward greeted him, and Gorren detected no trace of derision in his tone.
"I need to see my mother." When the steward raised his eyebrows, Gorren hurried on, mindful of the listening ears that surrounded them. "Elthrinn misses her."
Dechard, with the intuition that had made him a master of his role, understood what Gorren was, and was not, saying. "Come this way. The queen will be most pleased to hear news of her surrogate daughter."
Dechard turned, and Gorren followed him through the hall, relieved that the steward had also decided that running into the king, or the eldest son, would be a poor coincidence. Dechard took one of the more circuitous routes to the queen's private rooms.
Dechard knocked on the closed door, and when the queen called out, "Who is it?" instead of replying as he opened the door, as he usually would, Dechard opened the door, ushered Gorren inside, and shut the door behind them before he spoke. "It is your son, my lady."
The queen had been reading by a window. When she saw Gorren, she dropped her book to the floor, and stood so suddenly that her chair almost tipped backwards. She took two steps forward, and then stopped, her face an agony of indecision.
Seeing that the queen was not about to reject her visitor, Dechard left as unobtrusively as was possible, leaving Gorren alone with his mother.
"Gorren..."
Gorren cut her off with his outraised palm.
"I haven't come to build bridges. Elthrinn needs you."
"Why? What's happened?" Rehan took another two steps towards him, but halted again, as if afraid that getting to close would cause him to leave.
"She's not well. She's been ill for some time. Doctor Costerev has made an examination, but cannot come to any conclusion. He thinks you may be able to help her."
"Is it serious?"
"Serious enough that I'm here, asking for your help."
Rehan nodded. "You wish me to come immediately?"
"If you can. The doctor is sitting with her. She's weaker today than she has been."
The queen nodded her assent, but said, "But you won't speak to your father or your brother while you're here?"
"Speaking to them could not possibly help Elthrinn, so no, I do not wish to see them."
"Will you speak to them again?"
"Only on such terms as absolutely required to uphold civility, and even then I make no promises."
His mother scowled, but fetched her cloak and fastened it around her shoulders. Before she opened the door, she turned to Gorren. "You realise that attitude marks you as a direct challenger for the throne?"
"Yes. But I also know there are other options open to me."
"Such as?"
"Perhaps when the First Mother comes to visit Elthrinn, if my wife is fit to travel, I'll persuade her that she would be happier in her own country."
"And you would accompany her there? To Felthiss?"
"I won't leave her side."
Gorren wasn't sure whether his answer eased his mother's mind, or not. He didn't much care as long as she came to Elthrinn's assistance. He knew well enough that the mutterings of gossip around the town had not stalled after Dythegg. The people of the town, and perhaps the country, were watching closely to
see how the frigid detente between father and son would end.
Rehan questioned him no more on the subject of the rest of his family. They left the hall as surreptitiously as possible, and as they hurried to the cottage, Gorren explained what he knew of Elthrinn's malady.
Gorren opened the door cautiously, not wishing to wake Elthrinn if she was asleep. He was comforted to see the doctor still in the chair by the fire. If his wife had needed further attention, the scene would not have been as he had left it.
Doctor Costerev stood to greet them as they entered. "She is resting, but not asleep."
Gorren nodded his understanding, and guided his mother towards the bed. As soon as Elthrinn saw the queen, she burst into tears. His mother looked equally distraught at Elthrinn's pale, thin visage as she hurried over to the bed.
"Oh, my dove."
His mother knelt by the bed, and carelessly shrugged off her cloak, letting it fall to the floor. Gorren picked it up, and went to hang it on a hook with his own. His mother was holding both of Elthrinn's hands tightly between her palms. He had known that Elthrinn missed his mother, and that the sentiment was returned, but he had placed the blame for their separation squarely at the feet of his family. He began to wonder now if perhaps he hadn't also been standing in the way of his wife's friendship with the queen. Elthrinn's poor health, and any role he might have had in any unhappiness she might have born, were not pleasant subjects to ruminate on. He sat silently with the doctor whilst his mother and Elthrinn whispered together. A time or two the doctor's ears pricked up, but Gorren was making a concerted effort not to listen. He felt as though it would be an invasion of their privacy in some way.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Rehan beckoned Gorren over to the bed. The doctor also stood, and followed, but kept a respectful distance, since he had not been invited to share whatever news the queen deigned to impart.
Elthrinn looked pale and unsure. Without waiting to be invited, Gorren took a seat on the edge of the bed, and took one of Elthrinn's hands in his own. His mother smiled up at him, which only added confusion to his fears.
"You have a theory?"
"I do. I don't believe that Elthrinn is sickening."
"But..." Gorren looked at his wife, perplexed at how someone who was so obviously sick could not be sick. "Then what is the problem?"
"I believe that Elthrinn is pregnant."
Gorren's world stopped. Time ceased to pass. The air froze in his lungs. With an immense shuddering jolt, the earth began to turn again. "You're sure?" His mother nodded. "But that cannot be."
"It can," the doctor interjected. "I didn't even think of it, it's so uncommon, especially this far from the borders, but I have come across a few cases in my time."
"What were the outcomes of those cases?" Elthrinn asked in a dry whisper. Gorren knew that she was thinking of her own mother.
"You must understand, the cases that I stumbled upon were generally only in writings, or anecdotes. I don't think I've ever actually seen an unarguable case of a foreigner, a foreign woman, impregnated by a wolf."
"But the outcomes?" Gorren insisted.
"Were always successful as far as I can remember," the doctor confirmed.
"But... " Elthrinn swallowed and stuttered. "My mother died in childbirth."
"Then we'll have to take particular care of you, won't we, my dear." The queen said, smoothing Elthrinn's hair away from her face in a gesture that brought back a raft of memories for Gorren.
Gorren couldn't make sense of his own thoughts. His instinct was to be elated. He was going to be a father, Elthrinn was going to bear his child, there should be no more joyous feeling in the whole world. But she was so ill, and so weak, and he was so frightened for her, as she was visibly afraid for herself. If Elthrinn were to carry and bear a child successfully, he could name himself the happiest man alive, but her pregnancy added another layer of complexity to the already tangled relationship with his father. If Elthrinn could bear an heir, one that could change form, then their union was worth more than the disdainful regard that both his father and brother had paid it.
"I think, perhaps, that only we four should know of this for now," Gorren suggested quietly.
"I think, perhaps, that is a sensible idea," his mother agreed.
"It might be wise to inform General Lorch," the doctor added, "but his confidence can be relied upon."
"I agree," Gorren nodded. "But this does not become fodder for the gossips. They have enough tales to keep their tongues wagging for the present."
Everyone in the room was in accord. Whatever their own personal reasons for their complicity; the pregnancy would be kept a secret.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elthrinn could scarcely believe how abruptly the sickness had disappeared. She had felt so miserably ill for a quarter of the year, and then, almost overnight, it was gone. She was tentatively overjoyed for the first few days of its absence, fearing its return. But as the days progressed, and she found that she could eat whatever and whenever she wanted, and that she didn't need to sleep more than half the day away, she began to relax.
Rehan had assured her that such was the way of things. The queen had warned her that the sickness might return in the latter stages of pregnancy, but that it was unlikely. Rehan had also explained to her the other intricacies and indignities of pregnancy. It was all terrifyingly overwhelming.
Elthrinn had never given much thought to being pregnant before, except to think of it with fear, if she thought of it at all. She'd seen the women in Senthirr, how their bellies had grown, and how happy they'd been with their little squalling bundles. She'd seen them laughing as they'd chased after their offspring, and had heard them cursing the days that they were born when they misbehaved, too. At the time, having never even held hands with a boy, let alone even been kissed, she hadn't been able to understand anyone's motivation for procreation.
She understood it now.
The thought that she was growing an actual person within her own body was so outlandish as to be impossible to believe. The thought that the person she was growing was a creation that both she and Gorren had had a hand in making was fantastical, and every time she thought it, she placed her hands over her belly. She wanted this now. She wanted this piece of them to be living in the world. She wanted to hold their baby in her arms, whether it screamed, or laughed. She wanted to lull it to sleep at night, to chase it through the forest playing hide-and-seek, she wanted to show it so many things. She wanted to love it.
But she was still afraid, afraid to cherish her hopes for the future, afraid to build dreams of something that she might not survive to be a part of. Every time she found herself lost in an imagining, or making plans, she stopped, and tried to think on something else. Sometimes, she even tried to forget that she was pregnant at all.
Her stomach was only a little rounded, nothing that couldn't be hidden by careful arrangement of her clothing. Rehan had estimated, using her tiredness and sickness as a guide, that she was perhaps four moons along in her pregnancy; she would birth in another five, before Dythegg. Rehan had assured her that she would feel the baby moving before long. Elthrinn was looking forward to that with equal parts anticipation and trepidation. On one hand, she would know that the baby was alive and well; on the other, it would make everything so very much more real. There could be no denying what was happening inside her.
Rehan seemed to think that most of Elthrinn's concern lay with the child. That wasn't the case; Elthrinn knew that everyone concerned would do their best to ensure the child was delivered alive and healthy, herself included. She was worried for herself, she was worried that she wasn't strong enough to survive bringing her baby into the world. She was worried that she wouldn't be able to be the mother that she wanted to be.
Elthrinn finished hanging the last of the linens on the line that Gorren had strung up between the cottage and the stable. She fixed the last split peg in place, to hold the material to the twine, and fetched the long staff to
catch the line of clothes, and lift it out of the reach of the nibbling mouths of the goats. It was the middle of the year, and the weather was about the mildest that she'd ever experienced in Dorvek. It was almost a full year since she'd arrived in Cranak. A slight breeze was swirling around, blowing one way, then another. Depending on its direction, it either carried the smell of meadows, of grass and flowers, or the earthy, tangy scent of the pine forest. The constant movement of the wind was the only thing that prevented its delicate fragrances from being completely overwhelmed by the aroma of the animals. The sun was warm on her skin, warmer when the breeze dropped. It was the kind of day that filled a person with hope, but for Elthrinn, it was not a day to be hopeful.
She picked up the wicker basket that she'd used to bring the clothes outside. It was empty now, and she didn't need to catch it on one hip to support it, so she carried it by her side, by one of the handles. As she rounded the cottage, she went through the list in her head of the tasks that she needed to complete that day. She didn't have the luxury of all the time until nightfall on this occasion.
Searching the Darkness (Erythleh Chronicles Book 2) Page 28
