matters would be sacrilege as well as foolishness. Why, you know there are
some… I don’t know what word to use, practitioners, who use forceps in a
delivery? Forceps of metal! It’s disgusting. I tell you. Prince Kadakithis
makes a great noise about smugglers and thieves; but if he wanted to clean up
a real evil in Sanctuary, he’d start with the so-called doctors who
don’t have proper connections with established temples.’
‘Well, damn it,’ Regli snapped, ‘you’ve got a “proper connection” to the Temple
of Sabellia in Ranke itself, and you can’t tell me why my wife’s been two days
in labour. And if any of those bitch-midwives who’ve stood shift in there know’
– he gestured towards the closed door – ‘they sure aren’t telling anybody.’
Regli knuckled the fringe of blond whiskers sprouting on his jawbone. His wealth
and breeding had made him a person of some importance even in Ranke. Here in
Sanctuary, where he served as Master of the Scrolls for the royal governor, he
was even less accustomed to being balked. The fact that Fate, in the form of his
wife’s abnormally-prolonged labour, was balking him infuriated Regli to the
point that he needed to lash out at something. ‘I can’t imagine why Samlane
insists on seeing no one but midwives from the Temple of Heqt,’ he continued,
snapping his riding crop at specks on the mosaic walls. ‘That place has no very
good reputation, I’m told. Not at all.’
‘Well, you have to remember that your wife is from Cirdon,’ said Mernorad
reasonably, keeping a wary eye on his patron’s lash. ‘Though they’ve been forty