Dark Matters_ Ghost Dance (Book 2) - Christie Golden [32]
"Come sit by the fire," she said, "while we change the bedclothes."
He wobbled a little as he walked, but made it to the fire. Yurula eased him down and began to gather the soiled clothes. She stirred the herbs on which Chakotay had been lying, bruising them and sending a burst of fresh scent into the air, then placed clean cloths on the bed.
Chakotay turned his attention to Tom, who slept on. Chakotay thought that sleep was probably the best thing for the injured conn officer. There was a ceramic carafe and cup beside Tom's makeshift bed,
and Chakotay guessed they got a little bit of water into him from tune to time.
His own wounds had been superficial-a sprain, simple skin lacerations, nothing more. Yet even his injuries had become infected and gangrenous. Tom's had been much worse. A broken arm, with the bone poking through the skin-bad news even under the best conditions. Here, it could be a deadly threat.
Hang on, Tom, he thought fiercely.
The door opened and Soliss entered, guiding an extremely pregnant young woman. It had to be the aforementioned Winnif. Chakotay mentally congratulated Soliss on his observation; he'd been right on target about today being Winnif's time.
She beamed from ear to ear, showing no signs of the pain that human women endured. Chakotay remembered what Seska had once told him, back hi the days when they were lovers. He'd expressed some concerns about pregnancy. She had told him that if she did get pregnant and chose to carry the child to term, the birth would be easy on her as she was a Bajoran.
Of course, Chakotay mused bitterly, she hadn't been a Bajoran, but a Cardassian spy. And she had gotten pregnant, but not by him, though she had tried.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the bitter memories, and focused on the simple happiness that the young woman emanated. Yurula eased her onto the bed, smiling along with her, and Soliss placed a beautifully carved and painted screen in front of the bed so that the birth might occur hi private.
An astonishingly short time passed, and then Chakotay heard the lusty wail of a newborn crying for air.
Life. It went on.
The pleasure ebbed as he saw Yurula, with tears on a face that was nonetheless staunchly resolute, rush out the door with the crying baby. He couldn't hear what Soliss murmured to the young woman, but her cry of anguish shattered the air.
"No! No, not my baby, I have prayed, I have done nothing wrong, no, no-"
"I am so sorry, but the Grafters have called for your child. It is an honor, Winnif, an honor."
But Winnif sobbed and sobbed, and Chakotay knew that the new mother felt that whatever was happening to her baby, regardless of Soliss's calm, gentle words, did not feel like an honor to her.
"Let me take you home," said Soliss. "You should be with your family now." Physically, Winnif seemed well enough, aside from her tear-streaked, blank face. Clearly, recovery from birth was instantaneous in this race. The door closed shut, and Chakotay was left alone.
The Grafters, he surmised, were the gods of these people. Perhaps the baby was born with a mark that indicated he was to be raised by whoever served the Culilann as shamans, or priests. Such a separation would be hard on a mother, but surely such a child would be well looked after and loved.
After a time, Soliss returned. He looked as though he had aged a decade. Wearily, he sat down by the fire. For a long time he did not speak. Chakotay respected his silence. Finally Soliss rose and went to Paris. He checked his vital signs and eased the ensign up into a sitting position. As Chakotay had suspected, Soliss got a little water down Paris's throat, then laid him down.
"You have seen only the harshness of our people," he said, not looking at Chakotay. "We must seem like the worst of primitive barbarians to you. You have undergone the Ordeal,