Lady of the Star Wind

by Veronica Scott

  Jaw clenched, Rothan seemed at a loss for words. He took one of Tia’s slender hands and leaned over.

  She opened her eyes at his touch and tried to smile at him. “I’m sorry, my love.” Her voice was a whisper.

  “Sorry for what, sweetling?” The king’s tender voice nearly brought fresh tears to Sandy’s eyes, but she gave herself a mental shake. No time for sentiment if she was going to save Tia’s life.

  “I can’t give life to our child. I try and try, but I can’t—”

  “Hush, you’re doing fine.” He brushed her damp hair off her forehead. “I’m in awe of your strength. Sandy’s going to help you now. The Mirror of the Mother showed her what to do.”

  “Tia, listen to me, okay?” Sandy hated to interrupt the tender scene, but time was of the essence. She kept her tone brisk, the way she handled medical situations. “In a moment, you’re going to feel a tiny prick on your arm, and then you’ll sleep for a short time. When you wake up, I’ll be handing you a healthy son.”

  “Do whatever you can for the child.” The queen closed her eyes, plainly a woman at the end of her endurance. Rothan took a damp cloth and wiped her face, kissing her cheek.

  “I’ve never seen you quite like this,” Mark whispered to Sandy.

  “Well, I’m a doctor, what did you expect? Did you keep your hands sterile?”

  “Yes.” He held them out for her inspection, but she ran the tiny sterilizer from her bag over them anyway, then over the exposed portion of Tia’s abdomen. She’d already redone her own hands, in the absence of surgical gloves. “You have to stand here.” Sandy indicated where she wanted him to be. “When I’ve made the incision, you’ll have to hold these force clamps here and here, pushing aside the uterine walls so I can get in for the baby. Anything gushes blood, you clamp it off with the cauterizing beam. Got it?”

  “No, but once you’ve begun operating, I’ll manage.” He got a secure grip on the two tiny devices and rolled his shoulders. His expression was grim, as if he were going into battle.

  Which he was, of a sort. “Good.” Sandy met Rothan’s gaze over the tented linen sheet. “I have to tell you, there’ll be blood, lots of it, but she isn’t going to die if I can help it. No matter what happens, I’ll ensure she suffers no pain.”

  Rothan nodded, muscle in his jaw twitching. “We’re in your hands, Lady, and grateful to have you here.”

  Taking a deep, cleansing breath, making sure her patient was unconscious, Sandy picked up the laser scalpel. “Here we go.”

  Her incision was straight, clean, fast, the way she’d done it a thousand times in the hospital environment. Mark moved in with the medical device to close off the bleeding as he’d been instructed, the need becoming obvious as soon as Sandy was done with her scalpel. Trusting him to carry out his assignment, Sandy lifted the small, unmoving baby free of his mother’s womb, holding him in one hand and unlooping the umbilical cord with the other.

  “Tie off the cord so I can cut it,” she said.

  “With what?” Somewhat wild-eyed, Mark stared at the items from her medical bag set out on a small table at the bedside.

  Someone reached across the sheets to place a strand of catgut in his palm. With considerable annoyance, Sandy realized that despite her orders a young woman had entered the room while her attention was on the incision. Mark flicked off the cauterizer wand, set the instrument on the sheets, and tied a neat, fast knot in the cord. Sandy cut it then and took the baby boy a step or two away.

  The child was blue, limp, silent.

  “I can do this task, give me the child,” the newcomer said, reaching for the baby. “You attend to the mother, else she dies.”

  Hoping the woman had an acceptable level of competence since she needed to concentrate on Tia right now, Sandy handed her the baby. Wrapping him in a blanket of soft cotton, the attendant held him by the heels and swatted him on the bottom. No reaction. She did it once again, and the baby startled, spread his tiny arms, hands in fists, and screamed, crying lustily.

  Registering the strong cry with satisfaction, Sandy was hard at work, neatly closing the small incision in Tia’s abdomen with another implement from her emergency kit, applying healing compounds from her Outlier medical bag. She’d removed the placenta and placed it in an urn by the table, having been made aware the day before that this was the local custom.

  “She lies so still,” Rothan said, voice despairing. “I can’t rejoice for the birth of my son if I lose my wife this day.”

  “It’s the anesthesia, the sleep drug I gave her. Not a problem,” Sandy answered, summoning her best bedside manner to give reassurance. “She’ll come out of it in a moment, which is why I have to work so fast. There, see? She moved.”

  Sandy finished her procedures as Tia stirred, attempting to sit. Rothan pressed her onto the pillows.

  “My baby! Where’s my baby?”

  “Here, Your Majesties.” The young woman, who’d silently been holding the crying infant, stepped forward and placed the screaming boy into Tia’s arms. Rothan shifted to help support his wife as the baby stopped crying and began rooting for his mother’s breast.

  “Your son will be much blessed,” said the nurse. She made a sign in the air over the baby and the queen, which glowed green for a heartbeat before winking out. “He will live long. His reign shall be one of peace and plenty. You did well, Lady of the Star Wind,” she said with a sly grin and a wink over her shoulder as she walked to the doorway, passing Princess Sharesi.

  “Who is that woman?” the princess demanded, turning to stare.

  “One who takes an interest in these events,” the nurse said with a merry laugh as the drapes fell shut behind her.

  Sandy thought the laugh and the voice were familiar. Running into the hall, where knots of birthing women and courtiers waited, she glanced in both directions as the crowd stared open-mouthed at her. “Where is she?”

  “Who, my lady?” asked an official.

  “The nurse, the woman who just left us.”

  “There was no one.” Several in the gathering exchanged puzzled glances. “All the birthing nurses and the maids are waiting over there, as ordered. No one has gone in or out of the room except for Princess Sharesi a few moments ago.”

  “Tell us, how fares it with the queen?” asked Sallea, standing with Khefer.

  “She’s fine, a healthy boy,” Sandy answered a bit absently. Her nostrils were full of the scent of the purple river lily, which didn’t grow within hundreds of miles of this mountain plateau.

  She re-entered the birthing pavilion.

  Mark tilted his head in a silent question.

  “The courtiers and servants all claim no one came into the hall. Do you think she might have been Ha—”

  “No names!” ordered Princess Sharesi, cutting Sandy’s question off with an emphatic slice of her hand. “Speak no names of power! Always you’re so reckless on this score. Leave it as She said—the boy will be blessed. He’s blessed already indeed.”

  Mark walked over to take a peek at the baby, now drowsing in his mother’s arms. “Wow, he has a lot of hair. What are you going to name him?”

  “Hutenen Khunarum.” Rothan checked with Tia for her agreement. Tired smile on her face, she played with the baby, admiring his chubby fingers, and repeated the name in a whisper as her son curled his hand around hers.

  “Sounds good.” Sandy approved of the choice. It felt right.

  Mark wiped his forehead. “I need a drink of something strong.”

  “You did a great job,” Sandy told him. “You could get work as an ops nurse any time.”

  “I can never thank you enough, either of you, for saving my wife and my son.” Rothan’s voice choked with emotion. “Always you’re at hand in our moment of need.”

  “It was an honor,” Sandy said. “As a doctor, I want to bring as many babies safely into the world as possible.”

  “No matter which world it may be,” Mark couldn’t resist teasing her.

&nb
sp; “I’ll have a large breakfast ordered,” Princess Sharesi said. “And for you, my lord Mark, there will definitely be the plum wine you are so fond of.”

  Later, much later, after she and Mark had gone to their own quarters to try for a nap, and after making love, Mark raised himself on one elbow to stare at Sandy’s face.

  “What?” she asked with a laugh. “Have I broken out in spots or something?”

  “You were magnificent today, operating on Tia under these conditions.”

  Mark was so damn competent at everything he did that his admiration made her heart beat faster, even as she realized with considerable annoyance she was blushing. “Thanks. I think you’ve said it about a hundred times this evening. Not that I get tired of hearing it! But except for the surroundings, it’s a routine procedure.” She gave him a quick kiss, then peered more closely at him, realizing he was trying to hide something behind his praise. “What’s really on your mind?”

  “What if the same thing happens to you? If we have children here someday and there are complications? What could we do about it? You can’t operate on yourself, and I couldn’t begin to even try. Could I? Could you talk me through it somehow? We can’t count on the Goddess Haatrin to make an appearance again.”

  “I’ll be all right, I promise you. What happened to Tia is a one-in-a-thousand occurrence. We Zhivanovs are hardy stock. Ordinarily, women in my family give birth with no problems. Consider how many descendants Ekatereen has, or had before the mystery virus hit, anyway.”

  Mark fell onto his pillow beside her, apparently not convinced. “Guilt is eating at me for dragging you into this low-tech world. The Nakhtiaar have proven to be good people, they do need our help, but the risks to you—”

  She touched his lips with her fingertips. “Stop. We’ve had this conversation before, and I don’t ever want to have it again.” Kissing his cheek, she snuggled closer. “There are always risks in childbirth, no matter how civilized or high-tech a place is. I told you before, and I meant it, that since you came to Freemarket for me, I’ve been living, not simply existing. I’m content. I do think the mysterious nurse today was Haatrin, come today to help Tia and her baby but also to reassure us. She wanted to let us know we’re protected. You haven’t even considered one of the most exciting developments.”

  “Which was?”

  “I used the mirror, remember? I wished to see something, and there it was! The experience was amazing, let me tell you. I wonder what else I’ll be able to do once I figure out how to command the powers it holds.”

  “The concept scares me a bit too.” Mark nipped at her ear. “I think we have to be careful with your tricky mirror.”

  “When did you become such a cautious soul?” Sandy laughed out loud at his expression. “I thought you were the adventurous one. Relax, go with the events, because you sure can’t control them.”

  “I think you’re right. I’m all about control, knowing what I have to do and getting it done. Since we got to this place, we’ve been carried along on the tide. Takes some adjustment. I also never, ever cared about anything or anyone in the Sectors, so I was free to take any risk. You know?”

  “I know.” She caressed his cheek. “And now?” she teased.

  “And now, my beautiful princess, I care about every damn thing.” He rolled his eyes.

  “But some things are more important to you than others?”

  “Allow me to demonstrate.” His hand slid under the light sheet covering her naked body.

  “Again?” she purred with a smile.

  “There’s no sword practice or battle planning today, so I have to practice something.” Now it was his chance to tease her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Two days later Mark and Sallea were drilling their cavalry recruits, putting the men and horses through maneuvers on a large field adjacent to the general’s estate. Things were not going well, to put it mildly, Mark thought as they took a break to rest the horses. “The men are willing, but the training is too new to them.”

  “Riding itself is still a novelty,” Sallea agreed. She handed him a waterskin. “I wish we had more instructors than just you and me. No offense, my lord, but you’re much distracted with other matters.”

  “I know, but I rarely have a choice about what Rothan needs me to do.” He surveyed his squad. “Right now, I wouldn’t take them into battle, would you?”

  Regretfully, she shook her head. “It would be a slaughter. Perhaps they could harry an enemy column, make attacks while the Maiskhan were on the march.”

  “Which is not how I told Rothan we’d use them.”

  Before she could answer, Khefer drove up the road that bordered the training field. Sallea sighed. “I suppose he’s come to taunt us yet again.” She ran a hand through her messy braid. “The man is besotted with chariots.”

  Since Khefer was gesturing to them, Mark said, “Guess we’d better see what he wants.” He galloped to the road, Sallea close behind, followed by the flag bearer and the herald assigned to shadow them.

  The captain had news. “We’ve been summoned to the province gate. Well, the two of you have, and I volunteered to drive you there. Rothan’s already left, so we’d better hurry.”

  “What’s going on? Has there been an attack?” Mark dismounted, handing his reins to the flag bearer. “Dismiss the troop,” he said to the herald.

  Khefer shook his head. “I don’t believe so.” He watched impatiently as Sallea and Mark climbed into his chariot, then he set his horses in motion the moment they were safely aboard.

  The trip to the border was accomplished in record time with Khefer driving, and the three of them were soon climbing the ramparts to join Rothan, escorted by Nemiah, the efficient commander of the border who’d greeted them upon arrival, not so long ago.

  The king was grinning, setting Mark’s fears of an enemy incursion at rest. “We’ve got new allies,” he said. “I’ve waited to greet them until you arrived, Lady Sallea, as they’re well known to you.”

  She grinned. “As I told you two days ago, when Lakht observed the column in the mountain pass, my father’s men have arrived at your gate, then?”

  Rothan nodded, extending his arm to her. Mark wasn’t happy that he hadn’t been briefed but reminded himself Sallea didn’t really answer to him. Her status as an ambassador put her in a unique category at Rothan’s court. Khefer looked as surprised as Mark felt. The two of them trailed the king and Sallea as they strolled arm in arm through the fort and to the gate, where Nemiah waited to order the portal opened. Once Rothan gave permission, the doors were cranked apart, revealing a group of twenty Mikkonite standing at attention beside their graceful horses. One man who seemed familiar to Mark stood in front of the group.

  As the troop saluted sharply, Mark remembered that the officer in charge had gone with them to the lost city of Amaraten. His name was Sethmre, and he’d stayed close to Sallea on the excursion across the desert. The lady walked through the gate to greet her people, returning their salutes before hugging Sethmre and becoming the center of an excited group of warriors, all talking at once while Lakht dive-bombed the area.

  Mark gave Khefer a glance. The charioteer’s jaw was clenched, his stance rigid.

  “Have they come to escort her home, Your Majesty?” Khefer asked, brow furrowed.

  “I hope they came to fight,” Mark said. “I could use them in so many ways.”

  Rothan shrugged. “Once the initial excitement dies down, we’ll find out. When Sallea told me a few days ago the men had been spotted by her hawk, she seemed to think her father had sent troops to fight under her command.”

  Sallea detached herself from her countrymen, returning to where the king waited, Sethmre striding beside her. “Good news, Your Majesty. As I hoped, my father renews his oath of support for you and has sent me one of our best squads to employ on your behalf, in whatever way I see fit. May I present Sethmre? He’s my second-in-command.”

  “The extended conversation is best held out of t
he open,” Rothan said. “We’ll retire to the commandant’s office. Mark, I’ll need you. In the meantime, Captain Khefer, please escort the troops to the military compound at General Intef’s estate and see to their accommodations.”

  Khefer saluted stiffly and moved to join the Mikkonite in the outer yard. Rothan caught his arm. “I’ll expect you to join us at dinner.”

  Solemn expression lightening a bit, Khefer nodded. “It will be my pleasure, sir.” He gave Sallea and Sethmre a sideways glance as they laughed over some joke, and then he marched away.

  Efficient as always, Nemiah had wine waiting for them by the time Rothan brought them to the office. “A toast to your successful journey across Nakhtiaar,” he said, raising the glass to Sethmre.

  After the toast had been drunk, Sallea poured herself another and said, “Before I slipped off his ship the day you were taken to the tombs, Your Majesty, I made Demari promise to get word to my father about how events had turned out. I indicated I would make my way to your grandfather’s estate, regardless of your fate, to carry news to him of how your excursion to the Empty Lands had gone.”

  “Thank you.” Rothan nodded. “Had we not survived, that would have been a great comfort to my mother and grandfather.”

  “Our orders were to find Sallea here and report to her,” Sethmre said, his voice gravelly and deep. “As we crossed Nakhtiaar, we heard much about how you’d gone to the afterlife, Your Majesty. I’m relieved to find the tales untrue.”

  “No whisper of him being alive? Being the true king?” Mark was curious.

  “A few hints about the general setting up his own king, and we only began to hear those words as we drew close to this province.”

  “Interesting.” Mark set his glass on the table with a thump. “I, for one, would like to request these men be assigned to my cavalry unit, under Lady Sallea’s command, of course. We might be able to get my Nakhtiaar recruits whipped into shape by the time the war starts if we have Mikkonite tutors.”