“What’s going on?” The quivering voice of the maid was barely audible over the groans of pain.
“Nothing, dear,” Yunet said with a clear, happy voice, throwing a smile over her shoulder before turning back to Kareth with a frown. “Turning a babe like that is a torture I wish on no one. She’ll need far stronger herbs than what we’ve prepared. Do you understand?”
“Yes, you need me to go back to your house and fetch…something.”
“There’s a good boy,” she smiled, and Kareth could see her shiny ground-down teeth. “If you take too long, she’ll die.”
“I’m the wind,” Kareth smiled nervously.
“Bring the poppy and water lily tincture—all of it. And the scorpion venom salve you made, again all of it. Stop standing there and run!” She pushed him and Kareth stumbled before taking off at a run, jumping out of the door onto the sandy street. He focused everything on going faster, the sounds of the woman’s groaning getting softer the more distance he put between them.
Poppy and water lily was often used for serious cases, but Yunet had never let him try the scorpion venom on a woman with child.
“It will do more harm than good,” she had said with a frown. Yunet thought it might be too strong for a child so young. So if she was willing to use it now…
She thinks the babe will die, Kareth realized, his heart feeling heavy. It wasn’t uncommon. Every woman lost at least one child; his own mother had lost two before she’d had him, but no matter how many times it happened, the tribe always spent a night wailing in misery, and there would be long days before the woman recovered, if she ever did at all.
This was the first pregnancy she had brought him to since rescuing him from the palace. His ear had hurt for days after she had dragged him back to her home by it, listing off all the reasons he was an imbecile; how he could have been executed, how no man was allowed in the Paref’s harem, how her own life would be forfeit if they knew she was helping such an idiot escape punishment. She yelled at him for the rest of the night, and then she gave him a mug of beer and a linen blanket to sleep on. He’d fallen asleep curled next to the fire pit, watching the fading coals shift and pulse, listening as they crackled and snapped, knowing it was finally over.
He would never see the Paref. He would never speak for the Goddess of Life. He would never return to the sand dunes. He would spend the rest of his life in Mahat, or suffer the shame of returning a failure. He knew he should have felt sad, but there was a strange relief in admitting defeat. I don’t have to try, he realized. I can just stay here forever.
That night he had the dream again, standing before the Rhagepe’s temple, rebuilt to its former glory, the spire scraping the clouds, the screaming woman stumbling from the triangular entrance, clutching her swollen belly, her sheer white hair, and her eyes staring at him in fear, pleading to him for help. And then the steady stream of blood from between her legs, and her pitiful wailing scream as she split open and from her belly not one, but two children crawled forward.
They stood, not babes in arms, but the same age he had been when he had left the calendar ceremony. And their eyes—the same as their mother’s, the same as his, the silver eyes of the Rhagepe—looked at him in accusation. They raised their bony arms, pointing at him with sharpened nails.
“You failed.”
Yes, he woke up feeling a quietness in him. I did fail. Now let me die in peace.
But the gods would not let him die in peace, and Yunet would not let him live in peace. The moment he was up, she would put him to work. She almost acted as though nothing had happened, as though no time had passed since he had left her service. Of course, he had never wanted to leave. He had been taken from her. Did Yunet know? Is that why she had taken him back in?
Kareth reached Yunet’s hovel, his lungs on fire, and opened the door. Entering the black home he felt around with his hands. He knew these herbs and potions so well he could find them with his eyes closed. He bundled them into his arms, and just as he was about to catch his breath he took off again, running back to the woman’s house. He was on the next street before he realized he had left the wooden door hanging open.
Yunet would be mad, of course, but Yunet almost always was. There was very little she didn’t find fault with and barely anything she found worthy of praise. “Lucky I found you when I did,” she would say whenever he did something that pleased her. Thank you was not in her vocabulary.
It was lucky. Yunet very rarely went to the palace. Apparently she had been the apprentice of the midwife who had helped birth the fourth Paref Rama, the grandfather of the current Paref, and all of his countless siblings. Why she lived in such squalor when she had been held in such high regard before was something she did not explain, and Kareth didn’t have the courage to ask.
“The midwife seeing to the little High Wife is the mistress of the general. She was my apprentice you know, once…” she had said with a cackle of laughter. “The only legs she’s good at opening are her own. She calls me whenever she has a problem she can’t solve, which is often. But I don’t mind. The palace life was never for me. You can help more people—better people—out here.”
Merneith, the High Wife and Harami’s older sister, was pregnant. Yunet had been called there as a favour. Any other night and Yunet would not have been there, and the guards would have taken him, and…
His imagination never got farther than that, because he couldn’t seem to decide if this was a happy outcome. Maybe the guards should have taken him. Maybe he should have accepted his punishment and been done with all of this.
The gods did not seem to be so lenient. Every night now the woman and her children came to him in his dreams. It wasn’t always the same. Sometimes they met at the temple, sometimes near the sea where he’d spent his childhood, sometimes along the bank of the Hiperu before a blood-red shrine, but always there was the woman and always the two children, and always they accused him. But what could he do? Couldn’t they see it was useless? If they wanted to drown them all in a flood, they should just do it already.
Kareth tripped. He was going too fast, and couldn’t stop himself from falling. The best he could do was roll, landing on his side hard. One of the ceramic jars fell from his arms, and he heard the crack. He felt the wind sucked from him, and he squinted in the pale moonlight to see the jar. It hadn’t smashed open; there was only a crack, but from the crack, he could see the milky white poppy and lily tincture begin to steadily flow onto the sandy street.
You failed, the gods mocked.
“No,” he muttered with hoarse breath, pushing himself up, he held the jar of scorpion venom closer to himself and carefully picked up the cracked jar, his hand quickly becoming sticky with liquid. He was almost there. He just needed to get there before he lost all of it to the sand.
His body seemed to stop responding. He tried to run, but there was still no air in his lungs. He hobbled forward, gasping for air, and he heard the scream. The woman. Yes, only a few doors down, he could see the warm light coming from the windows, silk drapes rippling in the wind. He went as fast as he could, which was barely faster than a walk, but soon he was at the door, the steady drip from the jar reassuring him there was still some tincture left. He just hoped it was enough.
Kareth pushed the door open with his shoulder and was greeted with a much different scene than the one he had left. Another woman had joined them, a woman in a fine silk dress and an alabaster wig with strands of silver woven into the braids. An influential neighbour who had heard the screams of her friend? He didn’t have time to ask.
“You took too long!” Yunet looked unsettled, and Kareth could see a puddle of dark blood around the woman’s feet.
“I…I fell,” he stammered, watching as the puddle of blood grew, reaching towards Yunet’s feet, staining them red.
“The tincture, you empty-headed hippo!”
Kareth could hear dripping. Was it blood? Was it the tincture? Another scream from the woman cut his thoughts off. The ma
id was crying frantically, but the elegant woman just shushed her friend, damping her forehead with a wet cloth. Kareth reached the woman, tilting her head back and pouring the tincture down her throat. The woman choked for a moment then drank thirstily, but after a few sips the tincture was gone. Had it been enough?
“The knife,” Yunet pointed, and Kareth knew well enough not to ask. He ran to the other side of the room to retrieve the knife next to the meal the maid must have been preparing earlier. The blade was still sullied by whatever she’d been chopping.
“Give me that,” Yunet grabbed the scorpion venom salve from him, and rather than spend time opening the wax seal, she smashed it on the floor and picked up a gob of the gooey substance.
“It will numb your hand,” Kareth tried to warn her.
“I only need one.” She began slathering the salve on the woman’s vagina, and as Kareth watched her do it, he saw a tiny foot sticking out…
The room tilted, and Kareth felt himself stumble back. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. He felt sick, and then he saw Yunet take the knife. Kareth was going to scream, to tell her not to cut off the foot, that there had to be another way to save the woman, but she didn’t cut the foot. She carefully held it to the side and instead inserted the knife into the woman, cutting sideways, making the opening larger, and another gush of blood fell on the floor.
Kareth stared at the ceiling, the floor swaying, and he thought perhaps he was lying on the deck of the Afeth, but a woman was calling his name, and ship decks did not have ceilings. He pushed himself up on his elbows and saw Yunet crouched before an unconscious woman being cradled by a woman in a bloody silk gown, while a young maid was standing next to them with a face drained of colour, her mouth hanging open in shock. He’d passed out, he realized in puzzled embarrassment.
“Kareth,” Yunet said, turning, and Kareth could see a tiny baby in her arms. “Take the child, it isn’t breathing.”
“Take the…” Kareth stumbled over to them, holding out his hands. The baby should have been bright and screaming, but it was pale and still. “Why me?”
“There’s another,” she said, handing him the baby roughly.
Kareth didn’t understand what she meant, but he looked at the baby in his arms. It was sticky with blood and far too light. It was so tiny, maybe half the size of a normal baby. And it wasn’t breathing. He felt a shock of panic. What was he supposed to do? No wait—Yunet had taught him about this.
He held the baby with one hand by its ankles. It didn’t seem like a real baby, it looked like a little cloth doll. It didn’t feel real as he slapped it on the back, softly at first, and when that did nothing, he did it harder and then once more, now frightened he might hurt the child. Then…there was a tiny squeak, like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on, and then the baby scrunched its petite face and the tiny mouse squeaks continued.
“Cradle it, or may Imauni take your arms,” Yunet said, sounding strangely happy. When he looked up at her, quickly taking the babe into his arms properly, he saw Yunet was holding a tiny baby as well.
“You have a baby,” he said in a whisper, looking down at his own arms to make sure he was in fact holding a child.
“Ameheit, bless us!” The elegant woman said through tears. “Twins!”
The mother’s body was cold by the time they started to wrap her in linen. They had laid the babies in the crooks of her arms while she still breathed, but she had only moaned and wept, delirious from the pain, as the blood kept flowing from her. Now the babes were bundled in a basket together, sleeping peacefully while the elegant woman crooned over them, and the maid sobbed quietly, wrapping her dead mistress.
“We’ll go for the priest, now,” Yunet’s voice was as lifeless as the mother. She had tried to wash the blood from her feet and hands, but her skin was still dark red.
“It’s all right,” the woman pushed a braid back from her face, smiling at the babes, oblivious to the blood on her dress. “I’ll see they’re cared for until their father returns.”
“It’s for the best,” Yunet nodded shortly and left.
Kareth stood a moment longer, looking at the maid, wondering if he should say something, but then he heard Yunet’s gruff voice calling him to follow, and he turned and left. He couldn’t stop thinking of the children in his dreams. Two children, not one. A set of twins. Was it a message from the gods? If it was, what did it mean?
“I dreamt about this,” Kareth whispered, staring off at the brightening sky. The sun was rising.
“Oh? And what good did that do?”
Kareth frowned. “I’m sorry.”
Yunet made a sound, a throaty groan of annoyance. She stopped walking, throwing her arms up in frustration. “Oh, what happened to you, boy? You used to fight, you used to have fire,” she turned and glared at him, poking his chest hard. “I don’t need you to be sorry. I need you to be useful!”
“I,” Kareth took a step back, and Yunet sighed, burying her face in her hands.
“What did he do to you?”
His heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought she could hear it. What did he do to you? “Nothing,” he said after a moment. “I just…I’m just…tired.”
“Well, don’t be. We’re going to get the priest, and we’re going to get some sleep, and then you’re going to try again. I need to know you’re going to fight. I need to know when I tell you to run, you’ll run. When I tell you to get something, you get it. Don’t you dare bring back less than what I asked for. Don’t you dare spill our medicine on the streets! Don’t you dare fall to the floor at the sight of blood. You try with everything you have. You try or you go home. Understand, boy?”
“I did everything I could!” Kareth protested, but his voice wavered.
Yunet took a step forward, staring up at him with such intensity that even a head shorter she looked fiercer than a crocodile. “Did you really?”
Suddenly he could hear his mother’s voice, feel her hand smoothing back the hair of his youth, feel her warm breath on his cheek. “You are destined for greatness.” The withered Rhagepe’s voice, a crown of feathers and seaweed too big to fit on his head, the itching sensation as it started to fall down his brow. “You shall speak for the Goddess of Life!” Tersh’s strong hands on his shoulders, her dark eyes looking sad. “Learn.” And the gods, speaking through his dream, the blood swelling around his feet, lightning striking the Rhagepe’s temple. “You failed.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but found he couldn’t answer.
CHIPETZUHA
THEY WILL EXPECT YOU TO DELIVER MESSAGES FROM THE GODS
If there was one man Tenok disliked, it was Matlalihuitl’s son, Maarku. That pompous showboat from Ixk’inmetzuha seemed the most attractive option to give Huwamanpellpe. Quite literally. Tenok could still remember his smugly handsome face at Anteana-nech’o. He was young, beautiful, and strong. Surely if Huwamanpellpe met him, she’d fall in love. Tenok just needed to ensure the huitls also decided he was the better candidate.
“I can’t lie,” Sha’di said uncomfortably as they walked through the city streets, daunted by massive pyramids, heading for the forest to the south.
They’d been having this conversation—or rather Sha’di had been avoiding having this conversation—for days now, but time was running out. The huitls had called for another meeting. Things were going to move forward, and Tenok knew he would need an intervention from the gods if he wanted to ensure he stayed away from this marriage plot.
“I’d lie for you,” Tenok tried to look as friendly as possible, hanging his arm over Sha’di’s shoulder and giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.
Sha’di shrugged him away. “Maybe you can lie, maybe I can lie, but about gods?” He gave him a pleading look.
Tenok sighed. They walked in silence awhile. They were going to the dense woods, hoping to find Qayset. She had said she wouldn’t go far, and he needed her advice. At least, he needed the advice of a woman. He knew absolutely nothing about
matters such as these.
“You know,” Tenok finally said as they walked past a few stalls selling fruit and dried meats, calling out their wares and promising fair trades. “They will expect you to deliver messages from the gods. You’ve come as their speaker, so you must say something.”
“I know,” Sha’di sounded annoyed.
Tenok knew the sand witches heard the gods in their dreams and wondered if Sha’di could do the same. He had seen Sha’di countless times tossing in his sleep, waking up with a start and looking around in fear before settling once more. If the gods sent him dreams, he didn’t say, but Tenok had no doubt they were unnatural dreams. What if the gods had told Sha’di that he should marry Huwanmanpellpe and give up his children as Royal Sacrifices?
The buildings became smaller and fewer in between until finally the road narrowed into a dirt path that led into the darkness of the trees. They stepped through without slowing down, though Tenok did place a small ceramic ball into his new sling, just in case. While it was unlikely that anything big enough to do them harm would be so close to the city, the possibility made him feel uncomfortable all the same. He’d never forget that moment before the attack that took his brother. He’d felt safe then too.
“Where do you think she is?” Sha’di looked around the trees at a loss, petting Nnenne’s head distractedly.
Tenok stopped, taking a deep breath. He had the feeling Qayset was probably watching them right now, and knowing her, she would try to make a game of it. “I’m sure if we find a game trail, we’ll find her eventually.”
“And at least get some lunch,” Sha’di patted his stomach.
Tenok felt his own stomach give a little growl. He hadn’t had much of an appetite recently. He’d only picked at his food that morning. There was something about it that didn’t sit well with him. It tasted wrong, too sweet and sticky, and only served to remind him how far he was from his own home. Maybe he should just leave, and return, but… he shook his head. He’d waited his entire life to see his father again. He needed to see this through. And when he thought about leaving Sha’di behind…
Pekari -The Azure Fish Page 35