“Why, Lady, we earn our bread at any honest work,” Rima said. “Did you truly think we are all soldiers and hunters? The Guild-house in the city of Arilinn, where I was trained, has a specialty of training midwives; and we compare everything that is known about the problems of birth from Temora to the Hellers, so we are the best of midwives; even on the great estates, sometimes, women will send for us. Now, my Lady, let me see how far this thing has gone, and how long you must expect to wait-here.” She knelt, feeling all about Melora’s body with gentle, expert hands. “Well, it is a strong child, and a big one, too.”
She broke off as Jaelle came running toward them. The child’s face was drawn and white in the firelight. “Mother-oh, Mother-” she said and burst into tears.
Rima said firmly, “Come, my child, that will not help Mother. You are almost a woman now yourself; you must not behave like a baby and trouble us.”
Melora dragged herself upright, letting herself lean heavily on Rohana. “Come here, Jaelle. No, let her come to me, I know she will be good.”
Struggling to fight back her sobs, Jaelle came and knelt beside her mother; Melora seized her hi a fierce embrace and said, not to any of them, “It was worth it all. You are free, you are free!” She kissed the small wet face hungrily, again and again; then laid her hand under Jaelle’s small quivering chin and looked at her a long time in the wavering firelight before saying, “You must go now, my darling, and stay with the other women. You cannot help me now, and you must leave me to those who can. Go, my dearest love, try to sleep a little.”
Crying, Jaelle let Gwennis lead her away into the darkness beyond the campfire. Rohana heard the child sobbing softly for a long time; then she was quiet and Rohana hoped she had cried herself to sleep. The night wore on slowly. Rohana stayed with Melora, holding her hands, now and then sponging her sweaty face with cold water. Melora was still and patient, doing what she was told, trying to rest between the spasms; now and then she talked a little, and after a time Rohana, with a shudder, knew Melora had lost track of where she was and what was happening. She talked to her own mother, years dead; once she started up with a shriek, crying out curses in the Dry-Town language; again and again she sobbed and entreated them not to chain her again, or cried out, over and over, “My hands! My hands!” and her fingers went again and again to the long ragged scars at her wrists. Rohana listened, murmured to her soothingly, tried now and again to break through the delirious muttering . . .. If Melora knew she was here and free, here with me…. She tried, with all her telepathic skill, to reach her cousin’s mind, but all she could feel was horror and long dread.
Blessed Cassilda, mother of the Domains . . . Evanda, Goddess of light, Goddess of birth … merciful Avarra … what she must have endured, what horror she must have known….
None of the other women slept, although Kindra had ordered them all to bed; Rohana could sense, like a tangible vibration in the air, their awareness, their concern. At times like this it is a curse, to read the thoughts of others….
Once, when Melora slept for a moment, in exhaustion, Rima met Rohana’s eyes over the struggling body and shook her head briefly. Rohana closed her own eyes for a moment. Not yet! Don’t give up hope yet!
Rima said, pityingly, “She has no strength left, I think, to be free of the child. We can only wait.”
Rohana suddenly knew if she stayed there another moment she would break into hysterical screams and sobs, herself. She said thickly, “I will be back in a moment,” and rose, plunging away, around the campfire, toward the crude latrine the Amazons dug at their camps. She leaned against the harsh rock-face, covering her face, struggling not to vomit or scream. After a moment, controlling herself a little, she went to the fire, where a pot had been left with the hot drink of fermented grain, which the Amazons used in place of bark-tea or jaco, just simmering. She dipped herself out a cup and sipped it, fighting for self-control. Kindra, tall and almost invisible in the darkness, stopped and laid a hand on her shoulder.