Maydan cleared her throat to let me know Alibek had come in, Lauria and Zivar at his heels. I let Alibek take her for a moment. “Touch her hand, she’ll hold your finger,” I said to Lauria. “Maybe we’ll let you hold her tomorrow.”
“Hello, beautiful,” Lauria said to her. “You look just like your mother. Come look at her, Zivar.”
“I make babies cry,” Zivar said.
“She won’t cry. Just come look at her.”
The baby was starting to squirm and look around, opening and shutting her mouth like she was trying to find something with it. “She wants her mother,” Maydan said, and helped me settle her at my breast.
Nearly everyone in the clan came in to admire her the following day, from Prax to Zhanna to Zarina, her own toddler resting on her hip. Jaran kissed her soft head and predicted that she’d be a shaman, though the Fair One had returned home and he admitted that this was a wish, not a prophecy. Xanthe visited a few days later and presented us with a gift of apples her clan had gotten from a passing trader. It was a generous gift. The valley was so fertile we had yet to find anything that wouldn’t grow, but there weren’t very many trees yet.
We named the baby on the tenth day after she was born. I dressed her in her prettiest clothes, and we stood up before the fire, in front of the clan. Alibek formally claimed her as his child, not that there was any doubt. Zhanna invoked Prometheus’s and Arachne’s blessings, and someone swore they saw a spider scurrying past in the dark, a sign of good luck.
When it was time to announce the name of the baby, I took a deep breath. The people in our clan were mostly former slaves, and many of us had Greek names. Still, to give an Alashi baby a Greek name was unusual. But I’d known for a long time the name I wanted to give my daughter, if I ever had one.
“Andromeda,” I said, when Zhanna asked me the name of the baby.
“Andromeda,” Alibek agreed.
I glanced at Lauria. She was flushed red, and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, trying to hide her tears.
We each kissed the baby and sat down for the feast. “Andromeda?” Zarina asked. She’d never known Lauria’s mother. “Is that an Alashi name?”
I glanced at Lauria, who was smiling into the fire. “Yes,” I said. I kissed my daughter again and took Alibek’s hand. “It is now.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks, as always, to my editor, Anne Groell, and my agent, Jack Byrne. I get asked sometimes about what it’s like to go through the editorial process. I don’t think Anne has ever asked me to make a change that didn’t result in a stronger book when I was done.
Thanks to my on-call science geeks, Jason Goodman, Karen Swanberg, and John “Rowan” Littell, for answering random questions. Thanks also to my friend Marc Moskowitz, who gave me some Greek language help, to Dr. Lisa Frietag for answering medical questions, and to my father for his willingness to do my offsite backups. Many thanks again to Elise Matthesen, the gifted artist whose necklaces inspired the idea of spell-chains.
Many thanks and a round of coffee to the members of the Wyrdsmiths, without whom this would not be nearly as good a book: Eleanor Arnason, Bill Henry, Doug Hulick, Harry LeBlanc, Kelly McCullough, Lyda Morehouse (a.k.a. Tate Halloway), Sean Murphy, and Rosalind Nelson.
Thank you to all of my beta readers: Dushenka Ani, Blake Bramhall, Ed Burke, Stella Evans, Michelle Herder, Sylvia Izzo Hunter, John “Rowan” Littell, Janelle Lohr, Curtis Mitchell, Lyda Morehouse, Fillard Rhyne, Bill Scherer, Corinne Staggs, and Karen Swanberg. An extra thank-you to Curtis: many things in this world were inspired by ideas that originally came from his fertile imagination.
A huge, huge thank-you, as always, to my husband, Ed Burke. As of this writing, my two daughters are almost five years old and almost two years old. People ask me sometimes how on earth I write with a preschooler and a toddler, and I have to say that a supportive spouse who is an active and involved parent is critical. Ed is a wonderful father and a wonderful husband, and he values my writing and helps me to make space for it in my life. Another thank-you (and a hug and a kiss) to each of my daughters, Molly and Kiera.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NAOMI KRITZER grew up in Madison, Wisconsin, a small lunar colony populated mostly by Ph.Ds. She moved to Minnesota to attend college. After graduating with a B.A. in religion, she became a technical writer. She now lives in Minneapolis with her family. Fires of the Faithful was her first novel, followed shortly thereafter by Turning the Storm, Freedom’s Gate, and Freedom’s Apprentice.
Also by Naomi Kritzer
Fires of the Faithful
Turning the Storm
Freedom’s Gate
Freedom’s Apprentice
FREEDOM’S SISTERS
A Bantam Spectra Book / August 2006
Published by Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2006 by Naomi Kritzer
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Bantam Books, the rooster colophon, Spectra, and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
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eISBN-13: 978-0-553-90278-5
eISBN-10: 0-553-90278-4
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