If there was one thing Stemming was grateful for since meeting General Talger, it was his increased stock of patience. He bit back the disrespectful remarks he wanted to make and simply said, “The only thing I know, General Talger, is that in the last two weeks, we have sent out four foraging parties, and none of them have returned. They were starving just like the rest of us and have likely found new homes where they can get good jobs and plenty of food. If teams are to consistently return with supplies, they must be led by someone they trust.”
“Put together a party of seven men, led by the most trusted sergeant you have. Send them out as soon as this storm stops.” Talger stood. “And this morning, summon everyone to the park and train them in the snow. It will be good for them. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I need to return some correspondence.” She swept out of the room.
Stemming remained seated. He wished he could see the correspondence she was returning. He knew a messenger from the king and queen had arrived several days earlier; the woman was still there, waiting for a response to take back. Stemming had asked to read the message from Savala, but Talger had refused.
Surely all her actions didn’t line up with orders from the leaders in Savala. This spring invasion—could it be Talger had come up with that idea on her own? The first day of spring was less than a month away, and their army was nowhere near ready.
They were so low on black powder, they weren’t even sending any with the foraging parties. Sure, the soldiers had hand cannons, and they could use them to encourage citizens to “donate” food to the army. But if they encountered any pushback, they couldn’t shoot anyone.
The men and women were undisciplined. Stemming was trying to train them, but Talger constantly questioned his methods, giving the soldiers far too much freedom and independence. The result was an army who was less prepared for battle than they’d been months earlier. And volunteers continued to arrive from all over Cormina to join them. Stemming didn’t know what these young men and women were being told that would lead them to travel through the snow to enlist.
Then there was the food. Stemming was tired of tightening his belt. He knew the soldiers were angry; as rations decreased, the number of fights increased. The Meadow Dwellers had stored plenty of food, but Talger hadn’t rationed it at the beginning. She’d even allowed the soldiers to eat all the livestock. Now most of the stored food was gone, and Stemming suspected some soldiers were hoarding whatever they managed to steal.
When Stemming had volunteered to help the new monarchy, his goal had been to ensure the country stayed peaceful through a time of transition. He’d never led an army, but no one else had either. So he’d taken the job, telling himself that if he could train the men and women under his command to be disciplined and respectful, they’d help keep order in their new kingdom.
Now Stemming often fantasized about walking off into the woods around the Meadow and never returning. Or, on his darkest days, taking a group of his most trusted soldiers to depose Talger and maybe even the king and queen. He wouldn’t actually act on such treasonous dreams, however. If he didn’t respect authority, he’d be part of the problem. He told himself that all the time. But it was becoming harder and harder to convince himself.
He picked up Talger’s remaining piece of toast and set it on her leftover eggs and potatoes. Then he picked up the plate and bowl and stood. On the porch, he handed the bowl to one soldier and the plate to the other, and said, “You’re doing a good job, men.”
Colonel Stemming walked toward the nearest guard post to command them to ring the bells, summoning the men and women to a day of empty-bellied training in a snowstorm.
Chapter Thirty
Before you begin reading the first chapter, allow me to tell you the purpose of this book. I want you, dear midwife, to gain not only skills, but confidence to trust your instincts and try new things. With skills and confidence, there is little you cannot handle well.
This book is written by one midwife, but it is not about me. It is about you, the mothers you will touch, and the children you will bring into this world. May Sava bless you all.
-From Midwifery: A Manual for Practical and Karian Midwives by Ellea Kariana
Ellea Kariana knocked on the door of the largest midwife house in Savala. As they waited, she smiled at Benisa, who stood next to her. “This will be much easier with you here to introduce me.”
The door opened. “Can I help you?” a young woman asked.
Benisa said, “I’m Benisa Kariana, the head midwife on Holliner Street, and this is my friend Ellea Kariana, a midwife from the town of Oren. May we please come in?”
“Of course.” The young woman stepped away from the door, letting her visitors enter. “I’m an apprentice here, and I hope to share your last name in a few months.” She held up her hand, showing off her leather bracelet, which marked her as sun-blessed. She would be eligible for the surname Kariana once she became a full midwife.
Ellea smiled. “Almost done with your apprenticeship? Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Would you like some tea?”
Before Ellea could answer, she heard the cry of a laboring mother from somewhere deeper in the house. The woman’s pain and desperation were unmistakable. “Is your patient experiencing complications, or is she just tired?” Ellea asked.
The apprentice looked toward the back of the house. “Complications. And our two most experienced midwives are helping at a difficult home birth. The midwives who are in with her are barely out of their own apprenticeships. I tried to help, but they sent me out of the room.”
“Do they know why the baby hasn’t come yet?” Benisa asked.
“They think it’s stuck behind the pelvic bone. She’s been pushing for hours.”
“Bring us back there,” Ellea said. “Please.”
The apprentice nodded vigorously and led Ellea and Benisa through the house, first to a room where they all washed their hands in lime water, then to a bedroom near the back. As they approached, the mother cried out again. Benisa and Ellea entered, leaving the door open so the apprentice could watch. Ellea thought every apprentice should observe and learn from as many difficult births as she could. One of the midwives greeted Benisa by name, and Benisa quickly introduced Ellea.
Ellea walked straight up to the mother, who was lying on her side, naked, in between pains. She wore a look of utter exhaustion and despair the midwife had seen far too many times. Ellea invited magic into her hands, then placed one on the mother’s forehead and the other on her shoulder. The muscles of the woman’s face and body visibly relaxed.
“May I examine you and your baby?” Ellea asked. The woman answered by starting to flip onto her back, but Ellea said, “No need to move. Save your strength.” She instructed one of the other midwives to assist by holding up the mother’s top leg.
It took only a few seconds for Ellea to determine that the apprentice was correct: The baby’s shoulders were stuck behind the mother’s pelvic bone. Ellea moved the mother’s legs back down and said, “My dear, I have good news. We can get this baby out. Unfortunately, I’ll need you on your hands and knees to do it.”
The mother moaned, “No,” and one of the midwives began to protest that her patient was far too tired for such a maneuver.
But then another pain came, and Ellea spoke with a voice of authority. “Hands and knees, right now. Let’s help her up. This may save her child’s life.”
The protests ended. With the help of all four midwives, the exhausted mother pulled herself to her hands and knees. Tears streamed down her face, and she pushed with all her might.
“You’re doing it,” Ellea said. “Strong mother, you’re doing it.”
The woman screamed as Ellea guided the stubborn child out of her body. Ellea pulled the child to her own chest, marveling at the breadth of its newly un-stuck shoulders. “Help the mother lie down,” she told the other midwives. “I’m sure she wants to meet her daughter.”
The mother wailed again, but this ti
me it was a sound of joy. She lay on her side, and with new energy, she held her baby girl.
Ellea stepped back, and she and Benisa watched as the other midwives cut the child’s cord, assisted in the delivery of the afterbirth, and helped the mother begin breastfeeding. When both mother and child were drifting off into a peaceful nap, Ellea and Benisa followed the other two midwives out. The apprentice went in to keep watch.
The four women stopped in the same room as before to wash their hands. Then the midwives of the house invited Ellea and Benisa to stay for a cup of tea.
“I have to admit,” one of the midwives said once they were settled at the kitchen table, “I was ready to tell you to leave when you instructed that poor mother to move to her hands and knees. But it worked.”
Ellea smiled. “It’s an old trick to open the pelvis. I learned it when I apprenticed in Tinawe, decades ago.”
“I’ll be using that ‘old trick,’ ” the second midwife said.
“Ellea is the most skilled midwife I know,” Benisa said. She pulled out a copy of Ellea’s book. “This is her textbook, and she’s in Savala to offer trainings at all the houses.”
Ellea showed them the page that described the very maneuver she’d just used to deliver the stuck baby. They marveled at the instructions. After such a success in the birthing room, however, Ellea thought she could have given the two midwives a picture book, and they would have responded enthusiastically. They agreed to talk to their head midwife about a training as soon as she returned.
Ellea and Benisa stayed to chat a few more minutes, then left. They’d only walked half a block when Ellea turned, hearing running footsteps behind them. It was the young apprentice who’d opened the door for them.
“I wanted to thank you for coming,” she said when she reached them. Tears filled her eyes. “I hate difficult births. I could tell the other midwives were scared, and I was so afraid—” Her words were lost in a sob.
Ellea smiled, holding back her own tears. “There are many things we have no control over with the birthing process, and occasionally, you will see tragedy.” The poor girl was still crying, so Ellea took off her gloves and allowed magic to fill her hands. She held both the girl’s cheeks, wiping her tears. “In this profession, we have far more good days than bad ones.” The girl looked up at her. “And make no mistake, today was a good day. Next time such a thing happens, you’ll know what to do. That will be a good day too.”
“Ellea!” Benisa whispered urgently.
It occurred to Ellea that her colleague had been tapping her on the arm for several seconds; she’d been so wrapped up in her conversation with the apprentice that she hadn’t noticed it. “What is it?” she asked.
“Your magic,” Benisa said in the same tone as before. “We’re in public.”
“Oh, dear,” Ellea said, bringing her hands down and releasing her magic. She and the Golds had talked several times about not using magic in public, since none of them were registered. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten. Mustn’t make that mistake again.
“Excuse me!” a man called.
Ellea looked around and spotted the man. He’d been sitting on a bench down the street; they’d passed right by him after they’d left the midwife house. Now he was striding toward them.
“I’m a safety officer,” he said. “I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”
All three women stood with their mouths open, the apprentice crying harder than ever.
The man approached. He wore civilian clothes, but he held a brass badge. “The two of you can leave,” he said, gesturing toward Benisa and the apprentice. He took a step closer to Ellea. “It’s you I want to talk to.”
Benisa and the apprentice didn’t move until the man urged, “Go!” They both walked to the side of the street then stopped, observing.
“Name?” he asked Ellea.
“Ellea Kariana.” She regretted using her real name as soon as it exited her mouth.
The officer gave a curt nod. “Every time we see someone using magic, we’re checking for their registration. Just show me your bracelet, and you’ll be on your way.”
Ellea kept her hands down and said, “I appreciate what you do for our community. I’m a midwife, so we both serve in our own way.”
“Yes, we do. Let’s see that bracelet.”
A vise of anxiety constricted Ellea’s chest, but she kept her expression calm. She lifted her left hand and pulled her coat sleeve up, revealing a thin, leather strap.
“Very well,” he said. “You may go.”
“Thank you.” Ellea turned and began walking toward Benisa and the apprentice. She blinked away a few relieved tears.
She’d taken three steps when the safety officer’s voice stopped her. “Wait, ma’am. Stop.”
She obeyed. After a couple more quick blinks, she pivoted to face the officer, who’d already reached her again.
“I almost forgot; they want us to write down the numbers,” he said. He gestured toward her arm.
She stared at him, frozen. Official bracelets were stamped with a sun-shaped logo and a unique, identifying number. They’d been planning to add such features to their decoy bracelets, but they didn’t have the supplies yet. Hers was a simple, plain piece of leather.
“The numbers,” he said again. “It’ll just take a minute. I don’t have my notebook, so I’ll have to memorize them.” He tapped the gray hair at his temple and smiled. “Let’s hope my memory’s not too far gone.”
Ellea’s only response was an open-mouthed stare.
“No need to be afraid; we’re just trying to keep good records,” the officer said. He reached down and took her wrist, lifting it.
Benisa’s voice sounded from just behind Ellea, who didn’t even realize her colleague had approached. “Not sure why it’s necessary to harass a midwife,” Benisa said.
The officer looked up. “It’s not harassment, just policy.”
“But, Officer—” Benisa insisted.
It was too late. He was holding Ellea’s wrist with one hand, and his other hand was spinning the bracelet around her wrist, looking for numbers that didn’t exist.
The soft leather tickled Ellea’s skin as it turned. Once around. Then again. The officer’s eyes met hers, confusion shifting to wariness, before he looked down and rotated the whole bracelet one more time.
His grip tightened, and Ellea winced. “You’re not registered, are you?” he asked.
“No.”
She didn’t know what else to say, but Benisa didn’t have such an issue. “She hasn’t had time,” Benisa said. “She’s been so busy, and we planned to go today. But we stopped by this midwife house, and there was a woman in labor. The child could have died, but Ellea saved her. Would you have preferred for her to be at an office of safety filling out paperwork while that baby died? Please, sir, I’ll take her to register immediately. Please.” Benisa, clearly desperate, grabbed the officer’s free arm.
He shoved Benisa away, and she let go of him. He still had Ellea’s wrist. “Leave now, or I’ll have to arrest you too,” the officer told Benisa, his eyes flashing with anger.
“Go, Benisa,” Ellea said. “Everything will be fine.” She felt a strange pride for her ability to hide the utter terror that burned a path from her throat to her stomach.
Benisa nodded, her chin trembling with suppressed emotion. She ran down the road past the apprentice, in the direction of her own midwife house.
She’d tell the Golds, Ellea knew. But as the officer tied her wrists with his own shoelaces, she knew something else. Any message Benisa delivered would be pointless. It was too late; it had been the second she’d activated her magic.
The officer led Ellea down one street after another, and she heard the whispers of those they passed. But she held her head high and stared straight ahead, even as tears streamed down her cheeks.
When Tavi heard the news, she was in the kitchen, helping prepare lunch. She didn’t show any evidence of distress, anger, or sadness.
She simply said, “I’m going to tell Officer Andisis. He’ll tell his friend. They’ll get her out.”
After putting down the knife she’d been using to chop carrots, she walked straight to the little room off the back door of the midwife house. Calmly and quickly, she put on her coat and hat. She was working on her gloves when Sall rushed in.
“I’m going instead,” he said.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He stood in front of the door, and his head lit up like it was on fire. His eyes locked onto hers. “You’re frightened beyond belief. Your emotions are so under pressure that I’m sure you want to scream at the top of your lungs. But your determination is as great as your fright. And so instead of screaming, you’re acting. But as rational as you feel right now, the step you’re about to take is based on fear. When you sprint through the streets of Savala with your face covered in a scarf, you will likely be stopped by safety officers. They will rip your scarf off, recognize you, arrest you, and bring you to Konner.”
Tavi had half-wrapped the scarf around her neck when Sall finished talking. She stopped and stared at him for several seconds.
His head still glowing, Sall smiled. “You’re feeling resignation now. Very good. I’ll go, Tavi. Nobody knows what I look like. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Tavi was silent as she watched Sall bundle up and run out the door. Then, still in her coat, hat, gloves, and half-wrapped scarf, she sat on the floor next to the wet boots, drew her knees into her chest, and sobbed. Not Ellea.
Another pair of footsteps approached. Tavi didn’t look up, but she recognized Tullen’s boots. For some reason, that made her cry even harder, embarrassing wails exiting her mouth before being muffled by her knees.
Then his boots were joined by his legs and hips as he sat directly in front of her. He didn’t say a word. She kept crying, refusing to look higher than his waist.
And then he touched her. First it was his hand on her shoulder, and then it was his arms, holding her close, wrapping up her entire body, tear-soaked knees and all. She kept crying, strangely comforted by the feeling of his bony chin resting on her head.
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