by Hugh Cook
'If that's what you want,' said Yen Olass.
After a short scuffle, she muscled Pelaki out into the night, closed the door, and barred it against intruders. Then she settled down to wait with Resbit.
The shifting firelight splayed vague shadows through the room, shadows which danced and lilted as the flames leapt and sheltered. Here they were warm and safe, sheltered by strong walls; the firelight illuminated a familiar array of weapons, traps, fishing lines, blankets, furs, pots, bottles, boots, shell necklaces, and other items of utility and decoration.
In this safe and comforting place, Resbit sat with her back resting against the wall. Yen Olass bundled together some furs and slipped them behind her back to cushion it, then arranged more padding to go under her knees. There have in certain times and certain places arisen human cultures in which women were compelled to go through labour and delivery lying flat on their backs: however, such a bizarre notion never for a moment occurred to Yen Olass or Resbit, and if it had they would have noted that the birth canal points upward, whereas babies, like apples, fall downward.
Yen Olass leaned against the wall herself, and closed her eyes. The contractions at the moment were slow and widely spaced; Resbit was quietly talking about the name her lover, Elkor Alish, had wanted for any son that was ever born to him. The name was Elkordansk Talshnek Branador, which in the language of the Rovac warriors meant Elkorson Scalpslicer the Swordwielder. Yen Olass did not argue, though on previous occasions she had said -- and loudly -- that she thought that was a hideous name. She wondered what Resbit would do if the child was a girl.
T wonder if he often thinks of me,' said Resbit.
'Who?’
'Elkor, of course.’
'Probably,' said Yen Olass, yawning, and hoping Pelaki was not suffering too much out in the night all on his own. T wonder where he is,' said Resbit. 'Out there, of course.' 'Yes, but where?’
'Somewhere in the forest, all on his own,' said Yen Olass, meaning the pig.
'No,' said Resbit. 'He'll be in a banquet hall somewhere. Drinking up large with a thousand roistering heroes.’
Yen Olass bit her, very gently.
'That's nice,' said Resbit.
Yen Olass resisted the temptation to bite harder. This talk of Elkor Alish was making her jealous. She had no doubt -- though she had never confronted Resbit with her theory -- that to the Rovac warrior Resbit had been just an amusement to while away his idle moments. Yen Olass, with vast experience of soldiers and their ways, knew how they used and abused women.
'He used to tell me how he loved me,' said Resbit.
'Did he?' said Yen Olass.
'He said I had the most beautiful body he'd ever seen.’
'You do have a nice body,' said Yen Olass.
But there was a catch in her voice as she said it. She remembered the slave women who used to be brought in to entertain Lord Alagrace from time to time in his quarters in Karling Drask in Gendormargensis. Sometimes, encountering Yen Olass, one of those women would engage her in gossip which pretended to be casual, but which was in fact calculated to gouge out information about Lord Alagrace.
In this way, Yen Olass had learnt how Lord Alagrace, with his subtle and generous language, had managed to convince even these most experienced professionals that they were valued, that they were honoured, that they were, indeed, surely on the verge of becoming a permanent part of his entourage. Yen Olass remembered some of the reports which had come to her. 'He said nobody had ever done that for him before.' 'He said I made him feel young.' 'He said he would remember our night together forever
Yen Olass kissed Resbit, and hoped she would never be confronted with Elkor Alish, who, by this time, surely had some other woman with him.
'Hold my hand, Yen Olass.’
Resbit reached out, and Yen Olass took her hand. Again Yen Olass yawned. She wondered about Lord Alagrace. She presumed that he must have died in the gorge, fighting against Chonjara's soldiers; doubtless she would have heard the full story if she had not managed to escape so quickly. She wondered what Lord Alagrace had thought of as he died. Had he thought of any of those gentle women, so vulnerable to his lies? Doubtless they had told him their own lies, had counterfeited pleasure and mimicked orgasm to boost his ego, had stroked his aging body and whispered that they loved him . ..
But that was the way of it ... for their own safety, the powerless must pretend to enjoy their slavery, hiding resentment, conjuring up a false enthusiasm to conceal a weary apathy, bowing and kowtowing and practising deferential manners of speech lest they be thought uppity. The deceptions of slavery were not pleasant, but captive women did not choose their own condition . . .
Vaguely, Yen Olass wondered why the bed was not soaking wet. The waters broke ... when? At the start, she had thought. But obviously she was wrong. Or not yet right . . . or . . .
Or the fire was . . . floating . . .
Floating gently on waves of fatigue, Yen Olass slipped off to sleep.
* * *
Elkordansk Talshnek Branador was born at dawn with a caul over his face. Yen Olass broke the sac immediately, slicing it open with the tip of one of her steel fingernails, and her hands received Branador into the world. She had opened a single shutter to provide light enough to work by.
'It's a boy,' said Yen Olass. 'Of course it is,' said Resbit.
Branador drew his first breath. Yen Olass waited for a wailing cry. But there was none. She lifted Branador onto his mother's abdomen, and saw, by the dim light, Resbit smiling in something like glory.
'Are you tired?' said Yen Olass, wondering at the enthusiasm she saw in that face.
'Not now,' said Resbit.
Yen Olass touched the silvery blue umbilical cord, and started as she felt it pulsing. Despite all their rehearsals, she was confused as to what she should do now. Tie it off straight away? Or leave it?
'Can you get me some more water?’
'The cord . . .’
'That can wait.’
Yen Olass fetched more water, and Resbit drank it down. Yen Olass felt her own child kick in her womb. More than once, she had been kicked awake by the strong, aggressive, lusty life now perfecting its vigour within her body.
'He looks just like Elkor,' said Resbit, scanning the face of her child.
'That's nice,' said Yen Olass, without much enthusiasm.
Yen Olass, feeling exhausted, recalled the events of that night. She had slept only for a small part of it. The rest had been spent stoking the fire, cooking a little rice for Resbit, finding a bowl big enough to use as a chamber pot when Resbit was too scared to step out into the night to void her bladder, comforting Resbit when she was in pain, massaging her back . . . then gently supporting Elkordansk Branador as he passed through the gate between the world of fishes and the world of men.
The afterbirth emerged into the world, looking like something from an offal shop. Yen Olass let it be. She touched the child, gently, curious to find him so warm, so slippery, so quiet.
The bed was an unholy mess, soaked with amniotic fluid which had been trapped until the caul was broken. There was also a moderate amount of blood, though not enough to scare Yen Olass, who had seen enough battlefield butchery to know a little goes a long way. However, no excrement had been pushed out along with the baby, which was hardly surprising considering that Resbit had been cleaned out by diarrhoea during the two days before her labour began.
Yen Olass made up a new bed for Resbit. By the time she was finished, the umbilical cord had stopped pulsing, and was cool and limp. Yen Olass tied it off securely in two places with lengths of string, then cut between them. Then she helped Resbit and her child move to the new bed.
'What would you like now?' said Yen Olass.
But Resbit needed nothing from her. Resbit was cradling Elkordansk in her arms, and he was feeding. For the moment, he was all she had eyes for.
* * *
While Resbit fed her son for the first time, Yen Olass decided to clean up properly
.
Opening the door, Yen Olass was assaulted by Pelaki, who was overjoyed to see her. Pigs are as affectionate and as intelligent as dogs, only more so. Yen Olass scratched Pelaki behind the ears, then betrayed him by dragging him away and shutting him up in House One; she was very tired, and did not think she could cope if Resbit got traumatized by the vigorous attack of an energetic young
Pig-
The lake was pale in the early morning light; the sun was still burning away a little mist. Yen Olass threw all the soiled bedding into the lake, and washed it, then hung it up to dry on a rope spread between the trees. Then she started to fetch in more wood for House Two.
On her return from her second trip to the woodpile, she was startled by a silent apparition standing between her and the door to House Two. It was a gnarled green monster with gill slits, a massive neck, skin that was hard and almost chitinous, a knotted complexity of tendons, muscles and raised ridges at the groin. Caught out in the open, at the limits of her strength, bleary with fatigue, Yen Olass started and dropped the wood the was carrying.
'P'tosh,' said the monster. 'P'tosh, and the cat went miaow.’
Remembering, Yen Olass blushed. 'P'tosh, Hor-hor-hurulg-murg,' said Yen Olass. 'There is blood on your face. Are you hurt?' 'No, it's a . . .’
Yen Olass knew no Galish word for 'blush', and so invented one, 'mara-lalisk', meaning 'blood-smile'. This conveyed nothing to Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.
'There is blood on your face,' he said. 'Has there been a killing?’
Doubtless he saw her fatigue. And saw the bedding hanging up, slowly dripping water -- obviously some kind of cleansing had taken place.Yen Olass wet one of her fingers and rubbed her face.
'The other side,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.
He indicated on his own face. Yen Olass scraped a little dried blood from her cheek.
'A little goes a long way,' said Yen Olass. 'This is not from a death, but from a birth.’
'How is your child, then?’
'Not mine. Mine isn't for .. . for sixty days or so.' 'Resbit's child, then.’
'Resbit's child is fine. Come in. I shouldn't keep you standing out here. Come in, there's smoked fish. Do you like smoked fish?’
Hor-hor-hurulg-murg hesitated, not wanting to intrude jsn a mother with her newborn, which was an offence against Melski custom, and not wanting to refuse hospitality, which was an equally serious offence.
'Let's go and pull the longlines first then,' said Yen Olass, thinking that maybe the Melski did not eat smoked fish.
The job was soon done. With fresh fish cleaned and gutted, they went into House Two. Resbit and her man-child were asleep in each other's arms. Yen Olass cooked fish, moving very slowly, for she was very tired; Hor-hor-hurulg-murg wanted to help, but custom made that impossible.
'Thank you for your hospitality,' said the Melski, when they had eaten. T must go now, I have others to meet. My people are scouting west. But I will return soon, then we will talk.’
'We will be pleased to talk with you,' said Yen Olass, too far gone to care what they might talk about.
They bowed, and parted. And Yen Olass, feeling absolutely ragged, curled up beside Resbit. And slept, like the dead.
* * *
Elsewhere, inside House One, a pig by the name of Pelaki snoozed in a comfortable glow of contentment. Between washing the bedding and fetching the firewood, Yen Olass had found time to open the door to House One and throw in the afterbirth, and this little short pig had greatly enjoyed that bit of long pig. Doubtless revenge had something to do with it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
In the days that followed, the two women learnt what had happened in the south. The army laying siege to Castle Vaunting had been destroyed by madness. Leaving madness guarding the castle, the garrison had marched away to the east. There were rumours to say that they had conquered more Collosnon troops at the High Castle in Trest by another application of madness. After that, their movements were not known. They had disappeared.
'But where could they have gone?' said Yen Olass.
'Who knows?' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg. 'As it is, the land around Lorford now lies waste. There will be nobody there to trade with the Galish convoys when they start to arrive next year.’
'If they start to arrive,' said Yen Olass, knowing full well that no Galish convoys had reached Lake Armansis all through the summer and autumn.
'They will,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg. 'Rumours of war will have frightened them, but this trade route is too valuable to be abandoned forever.’
'What about the Collosnon?' said Resbit. 'Won't they come back?’
'The soldiers, those who survived, all withdrew to Skua on the coast of Trest. We think most have gone back to Tameran, leaving only a garrison at Skua.’
'But Skua's only a fishing village,' said Resbit, remembering the talk of people who had been there. 'What can they want with that?’
'It's important so they can go home and say they conquered part of Argan,' said Yen Olass. 'That's much better than going home defeated.’
Having outlined the situation, the Melski got down to business. They wanted to build a trading post here by Lake Armansis. When the Galish convoys came through, the Melski wanted Yen Olass and Resbit to help them as translators, and, more importantly, as ears and eyes.
'As interpolators,' said Yen Olass, using an Eparget word which nobody else understood.
'What are interpolators?' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.
'People who help with big things and little, as needed,' said Yen Olass, practising her diplomacy.
Yen Olass had no objection to being a Melski spy. What she did not know was that the trading post was just one part of a far-ranging plan. The Melski, believing that their troubles had only started, were determined to establish a small human colony at Lake Armansis to provide them with a permanent pool of agents, spies, assassins and diplomats. Even if Yen Olass had known this, she would still have accepted it.
When Resbit and Yen Olass had first set up house by the shores of Lake Armansis, their freedom had been exhilarating. Nevertheless, even during the most idyllic moments of summer, they had always been aware how vulnerable they were to sickness or injury -- or any strangers who managed to infiltrate the forest without being stopped by the Melski.
Now, with winter approaching, their need to belong to a community was becoming more and more obvious. One child already meant a lot of work. Two children would prove a heavy burden, even if they were granted unlimited supplies; as it was, sooner or later -- toward the end of winter or the beginning of spring -- their stores of food would run out, and they would have to forage to eat.
A way of life which had seemed delightful in the good weather, when they had plenty of looted food stashed away, now seemed increasingly impractical and, indeed, dangerous. They were glad to see the Melski establishing themselves in the area. If they had to be members of a community, the company of Melski was preferable to that of humans, for Melski males would never dream of interfering in the private arrangements of two human females, whereas to any man the two women would represent at least a temptation, if not an outright challenge. Winter came.
The Melski lived in mud-daubed huts while they worked on permanent buildings for the trading post. Yen Olass and Resbit had felled the logs for House Two in the spring, when the wood is full of sap and moisture; the Melski explained that this would encourage rot and warping. The Melski felled their own logs in the cold weather, when the trees were scarcely alive, and the wood was dry with its food value at a minimum.
'A dead tree is a dead tree,' said Yen Olass, convinced that it made no difference; House Two was certainly showing no signs of falling apart.
While the work of tree-felling was still going on, Yen Olass gave birth to her child. Her labour was very different from Resbit's. Early on, her waters burst with an audible gush which startled her, since she had never heard that such a thing was possible. She thought this might signal a swift labour, but her child was not b
orn for a day and a night.
Long before the end of her labour, she was screaming with pain, exhaustion and utter frustration. Then the head of her child began to emerge, and, as she panted, it slithered out in a spectacular sprint to the open air.
Yen Olass felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It was out! Her labour was over!
Her child started bawling.
'A girl,' said Resbit.
'Let me see her,' said Yen Olass.
Finding herself, after all that pain and all those long hours of exhaustion, animated by an intense curiosity. The child was heavy and wet and slippery. She looked very much like Yen Olass, except that her eyes were a startling gold.
'Bring me a burning stick,' said Yen Olass. 'A what?’
