Cry of the Newborn

by James Barclay

  'How is that possible?' asked one man, voice only just carrying over the din of the heifer.

  Gorian looked round at him briefly. He was quite old and had only ever frowned since he'd got off his horse. An engineer or scientist apparently. 'Because I am connected to the nature of all living things. And if I concentrate, I can feel and change anything I want to. I don't expect you to understand because you will never know what I see through my senses.'

  'Gorian, concentrate on the job in hand,' said Marshal Vasselis, whose proud and pompous son stood next to him, hand on a sword he could probably hardly use. 'We all agree that this cow will soon die along with her calf. What we are here to see is the result of your intervention.'

  'Yes, Marshal,' said Gorian. 'I need to establish the exact position of the calf. We know it is breech but it might be possible to turn it and so save them both.'

  He leaned in closer to the heifer. The animal stank of sweat, faeces and fear. Its hide rippled and in the enclosure, Gorian felt a few nerves. Should it buck or shift with any remaining mote of strength it could crush him. But it seemed able only to bellow its pain and its helpless rage. He breathed in the strong scents and tried to shut the stench from his mind.

  'Not long now,' he whispered to them both.

  The heifer's life energies were uneven and they pulsed stress and fading strength through him. He traced back along them to where they were sheared or trapped. He drew in a sharp breath. At that moment the heifer shuddered violently and vomited bile and blood.

  'What is it?' asked Gwythen. 'I can feel strain in many muscles. There must be some torn.'

  'Yes,' said Gorian. 'And it's worse, too. They are all in spasm around the womb. The calf is not quite breech. She is lying with her lower back across the birth canal and the mother can't relax to let her move.' He raised his voice. 'I can trace all the individual lines of energy that signify the womb muscles and the way they are reacting with each other. What I must do is use myself to force the cow's own energy through those lines so the muscles relax and contract in the correct order. I hope you understand what needs to happen even if not the way I will make it happen.'

  'You will use your mind?' asked the tall, severe man, Jhered. The Gatherer who scared them with a sharp look.

  'Not exactly,' said Gorian. 'My mind understands what my senses can see and makes pictures in my head of it all. I use my whole body to change or amplify the energy I bring into myself from outside.'

  'Good enough for now, lad,' said Jhered. 'Get on and do what you must. This noise and stink is making my head spin.'

  It was quite easy, really. Gwythen kept her eye on the heifer to make sure he wasn't causing her too much more pain while he worked out the way to use the animal's own body to move her calf. There was a rhythm to it and the moment he began it, the heifer did a great part of the work herself. The calf reacted too, jerking to point its nose down, seeking its way out.

  Gorian could feel the mother relax as the pain eased and the birth neared. He fed energy into the last of the lines and the calf entered the birth canal. The heifer reacted the way nature intended she should, and tried to stand.

  'Gwythen, move!'

  Gorian dived out of the front of the stall. The cow shifted and struck the side where he'd been crouched. Strong arms pulled on ropes and dragged her upright. She lowed, long and pained. Gorian could feel the strain of her body through the air itself and saw the rippling in her flanks.

  The calf was born in a tremendous rush. It spilled out in its sac, bringing blood and slime with it and sprawled in the hay. Gorian rushed forwards and took the slithering new born in his arms, freeing its nose, mouth and eyes. The owner reached in to free it from the umbilical cord and immediately, the calf tried to rise while its mother sought to turn to lick it clean and push it to suckle.

  'All safe now little one,' said Gorian, stroking its slimy, quivering body. 'I had your life in my hands there, didn't I? Lucky I wanted you to live, eh?'

  He stood up and wiped his hands down his tunic. It was covered in sludge and blood. He smiled at Kessian and the Marshal. Everyone seemed to be frowning back at him.

  'I did it,' he said, in case they'd failed to see his triumph. 'They would both have died without me.'

  'What did you mean, "Lucky I wanted you to live"?' asked Jhered.

  'Just that,' said Gorian, irritable that his work had been taken so lightly.

  'And does that mean that you could have killed it just as easily with your . . .' He waved his hands searching for the words. 'Abilities.'

  Gorian frowned. 'I just meant that because I wanted it to live, it lived. I was here, I could help, I gave it its life. No one else could have done that. What's wrong with you, can't you see that?'

  'All right, Gorian,' said Kessian. 'He has to ask his questions. Try not to get upset.'

  'I gave it its life,' he said, staring at Jhered and finding himself unafraid. 'And I would do the same for you, too, if you asked me. Would you be so suspicious then?' He looked for his mother. Meera was there nodding at him, telling him he'd done well. I need to rest. I'm tired.'

  They parted to let him go but he could still hear them talking after him but not about him. Already, they'd forgotten what he'd done. None of them could do it. Why weren't they amazed?

  'Where to now, Lord Jhered?' Marshal Vasselis asked the Gatherer.

  'Your Reader, I think. She has some questions of a difficult theological nature to answer. Then, uh, Kessian, isn't it? Kessian, I will want to talk to you. Don't go far.'

  Their voices became indistinct.

  'What will they do?' Gorian asked his mother.

  'I don't know, my darling,' she said, holding him close to her. 'But you have shown them how much good you can do. So have Ossacer and the others but you saved two lives. They cannot congratulate you, they have to suspect you. That is their job. Try not to worry. Get some rest instead. They'll want to talk to you more, I am sure.'

  'Why can't they just accept us like everyone else here?'

  Meera sighed. 'Oh, love, that is a hard question. The world is a big and mistrustful place and people are scared of things they don't understand. Most of Westfallen were too for a time. The Order doesn't see things quite the way Elsa Gueran does. One day you'll understand.'

  'So why aren't they here asking questions?'

  Meera's face clouded. 'Because they are not interested in asking questions, only in making judgements. Be happy we are under investigation by the Advocacy and not the Order.'

  And though he pressed her, she would not say more.

  Elsa Gueran did not know whether to be scared or relieved, quiescent or defiant. She faced Jhered, Harkov and D'Allinnius alone in the House of Masks. If any here were truly guilty of heresy then surely it began with this woman. Pretty, even beautiful in her facial features but a woman who had systematically abused the teachings of the Order for her own and Westfallen's purposes. Such was Jhered's assumption when he faced her. Could she convince him otherwise. Or perhaps it would be Harkov who would do that in the analysis that would follow.

  'I know you will think little of me, Exchequer Jhered. All I ask is that you question me fairly and listen to my answers. Everything I do I believe to be God's will.'

  'Let me assure you I think nothing of you whatsoever. That you wear the robes of a Reader and sit proud in a House of Masks is an affront. And that you must have had complicity within the Order to maintain your deception makes me sick to my stomach. How far does this go towards Estorr, I wonder?'

  'Do you want an answer to that question?' she asked, trying not to show her nervousness at his vehemence.

  'It is as good a place to start as any and perhaps the easiest question you will have to answer today,' he said. 'Go ahead. I'm listening.'

  'Whatever my feelings towards the Order as an organisation and the disbursement of its strictures, I will not implicate it in any way in the extraordinary things we are doing here,' said Elsa. And she surprised Jhered by smiling. 'After all, why sh
ould they take the credit?'

  'You have not answered my question,' said Jhered.

  Elsa met his gaze squarely. The light of late afternoon streamed in through the open double doors. It shone from the polished root scrollwork that embossed every inch of wood in the House and the masks that covered the walls, low domed ceiling and racks of shelving. The cooling sea breeze ruffled the stacked volumes of the Chronicles of Memory, exposing the early pages of the topmost to reveal flashes of colour, intricate design and likenesses of the dead in detail laden with emotion.

  'Westfallen's Reader has always believed in the truth as presented by the banished strand of the Order because we are not scared of what it represents. We do not believe it will undermine our authority, quite the reverse. But this means the Reader is chosen from a small pool of Order acolytes, many of whom have never been granted the keys to a House of Masks or the lawn on which to preach.

  'We are in careful contact, building what must be built because it is the true word of God as we see it.' She held up her hands. 'But I know most do not agree with us so we do not seek to force our views on any to whom they are unwelcome.

  'And because we do not want the interference of the wider Order, Westfallen is kept apart. If you have the allies, it is easy to dissuade others from travelling here. After all, I can just as easily report on such a quiet and faithful place by making the journey to Cirandon. And as you know, we have one very powerful ally.'

  Jhered's hands had been cupping nose and mouth. It had been an unconscious move and he removed them slowly. The woman's arrogance was breathtaking. He had expected her to hide behind the scriptures, quote obscure passages that justified her heretic views. But she was brazen, confident in those she assumed would protect her because the Order was not there to deliver its justice. Jhered might have had little time for the zealous pronouncements of a Chancellor in pursuit of control but this was surely just as bad. Innocents would have been misled, perverted from the path of faith and God.

  He looked across at Harkov and D'Allinnius. The latter was impassive, the former regarded Gueran with apparent respect and a slight smile. He quashed his immediate anger. It was why he had picked them to help him after all. Vasselis deserved balance if nothing else.

  'What you have said is an admission of guilt under the law of the Order,' said Jhered. 'You mock the place in which we sit and the title before your name. Your actions should see you burn. You're lucky it is me you will answer to.'

  'I am,' agreed Elsa. 'But then that is why you are here without the Order, isn't it? You are supposed to represent reason and impartiality, aren't you?'

  'No,' said Jhered firmly. 'I am here at the request of the Advocate, following admissions from Marshal Defender Vasselis, to assess whether your . . . experiments, are a crime against the Conquord, the Omniscient or both. I am not impartial and you will do well to bear that in mind. Now. Questions and straight answers.

  'The Order discredited and outlawed the splinter faith hundreds of years ago. Its observance is forbidden to followers of any faith as a perversion of God's teachings. What right do you have to preach it here?'

  'I preach the teachings of the scriptures. The splinter faith, if that is how you want to describe it, is not preached. It is everywhere, in all our lives. I do not need to tell what all here already know.'

  'You're saying that none in Westfallen reject your beliefs?' asked Harkov.

  Elsa smiled and shook her head. 'I don't think that any of you have the remotest conception of what you have come to investigate. The splinter faith, which we term the Ascendancy by the way, has been part of the life of Westfallen for centuries. Ever since it was rejected by the Order. It is the natural order of life to us as it should be to all who follow our faith.'

  Jhered scoffed. 'You are pushing your luck, Reader Gueran. I have studied the scriptures at great length. I am a true follower, a faithful believer in the Order of Omniscience. You play with heresy just as you play with nature. How can it be the natural order of life to bring rain where God has brought blue sky. Or to take control of the body of a cow to bring a life into the world that God had clearly decided should not be begun? Where in the scriptures is this written?'

  Elsa placed her hands on the books in front of her.

  'Much we now know was not known when the scriptures were written. Merely because something is not officially sanctioned in

  Order law does not make it forbidden. Your argument would stop us using man-made implements to treat our sick, would it not?'

  This was where he wanted to be. Tackling her on the core of the faith she purported to support. It was where he would undermine her and expose her naivety.

  'I would agree, were that my argument. But you know it is not. Our advances in science and medicine allow us to give our sick and injured the means to recover should their wills be strong enough and their bodies desire it. Such is stated as God's will, isn't it?'

  Gueran nodded. 'The natural cycle of life is inviolate. Medicine must seek to counter only that which attacks the body or the crop or the beast against the will of man or God.'

  Jhered slammed his fist down on to the table that separated them. Leather-bound volumes juddered and Elsa jerked backwards.

  'So how can you believe in your Ascendancy and similarly remain true to the Order you so casually denounce?'

  'I denounce no one and nothing, least of all the Order,' said Gueran after a pause to gather herself. 'The Order is the faith that I have known and loved all of my life and that will never change. It is my life. Evidence of God's blessing overwhelms my senses with every breath I take. But the Order's eyes are closed to the evolution of man and it fears for itself should its grip on the Conquord faithful ever be loosened.'

  Jhered laughed. He had heard it all now.

  'You think the Order is blind? My misguided woman, it is you who needs to see what stands before her. Your Ascendancy uses you to justify its existence under God when surely all you have learned must be crying at you that these children represent an abomination, innocent as they may be as helpless participants in the crime.'

  'I see the growth of man to levels where he is better able to do God's work and bring peace and comfort to the world.'

  'But they put themselves equal to God,' shouted Jhered. 'They assume God-like powers and hold fire and water in their hands. They challenge the very centre of our faith, even as you try to hide them within it.'

  'They do nothing of the kind,' said Gueran, maintaining her calm under some duress. 'God is the Omniscient. These are but four people doing his work wherever they find it. They will be no more equals of God than I will be. We are all His servants. Please understand, Exchequer Jhered. This is progress. It is wonderful and we should embrace it, not hate it. I am a Reader of the Order. If I felt it in anyway insulted the faith I love, do you really think I would countenance it in the fields over which I preside?'

  'Heretics forever seek to wound true faith from beneath the cloak of piety,' said Jhered.

  D'Allinnius spoke up, his cracked voice quiet and careful. 'The ox, the mule, the horse and the pig are all bred selectively as we strive to improve their health and their abilities to serve their appointed purposes. This is merely a matter of benefitting their owners. Who will own your bred humans?'

  'No one . . .' Gueran paused, irritable. 'With respect, you are missing the point. Our Ascendants prove that man or woman can be closer to nature and hence to God - something for which all followers of the Omniscient strive. And a breeder who produces prime cavalry stock merely proves observation and selection can produce a horse suited for the purpose rather than trusting to nature and fortune. We are no different in that regard and the will of God is such that we should seek such improvement.

  'But in all these cases we believe the result will occur naturally, given time.'

  Harkov cleared his throat. 'Sorry, but are we to understand that you feel that children with these abilities would have occurred without your intervention?'

  '
Eventually, yes,' said Gueran. 'The Ascendancy believes fundamentally that one day, all those born will display such abilities to a greater or lesser extent. This is so important because it means that it is the will of God and we will not go against that will.'

  'But there are no obvious raw materials,' said D'Allinnius.

  'I don't understand.'

  'They are the first and only thus far,' he explained. 'They have come seemingly from nowhere, through your selection of parents based on measures we are yet to understand. There have been none like them before, occurring at random. What is the pool from which they have been drawn?'

  Gueran frowned. 'Well, Westfallen, of course.'

  'I see,' said Harkov. 'So there are some here that exhibit some form of these abilities naturally, are there?'

  'Well, obviously.' Gueran could not suppress a smile. 'Almost everyone for some part of their lives.' Jhered sat up, feeling a jolt through him as if he had been struck. 'I beg your pardon?'

  Chapter 24

  848th cycle of God, 40th day of Genasfall 15th year of the true Ascendancy

  Roberto Del Aglios woke at a wail from outside his tent and felt immediately lost. It was hot, despite the hour of the night, and sweat was soaking his bed. He couldn't recall going to bed. He listened to the camp while he tried to remember what had happened. It didn't sound right at all. The quiet had a dead quality to it and the wail had echoed off the sheer rock walls at their backs.

  He tried to sit up but felt so weak. Every muscle ached. The merest movement sent nausea chasing through him. There was a cloth on his forehead. He dragged it off and heard it slop into a bowl of water at his bedside. Oh yes, now it was coming back.

  'Garrelites!' he called, his voice feeble and hoarse. He coughed violently, almost vomited.