On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [46]
“Tahmu!” she screamed, heedless of proper etiquette, pushing past large, rhia-clad torsos and the long legs of the sa’abahs. “Tahmu, where are you?”
“Great khashim,” cried one of the men, “your little servant wants you!” Several men turned to regard Kevla and joined in their friend’s laughter. She ignored them.
“I must find Tahmu! The baby is—”
“Here I am, Kevla,” said a calm, familiar voice. “Take me to her.”
Kevla turned to start fighting her way back through the crowd, but the warriors parted for their khashim as they had not done for her.
“Is she—all right?”
“Well enough,” Kevla responded, “but the baby is almost here, and she wants you—”
“She wants me to catch the baby, for luck,” Tahmu said. He pushed past her and raced up the stairs to Yeshi’s chamber.
Kevla followed, only a few steps behind. Tahmu entered, grasped and kissed his wife’s hand, and then took up a position beside Asha. The baby’s head was already showing.
“Tahmu, you are here!” gasped Yeshi.
“I am here, my wife, and ready to catch our child,” he said, his voice deep with emotion. He held the basin of herbs and flowers. Kevla stood by with clean cloths, ready to hand them to Tahmu once the baby had come. As Yeshi screamed and strained, more and more of the baby’s head appeared.
She frowned at it, her heart speeding up. No, please let this not be so….
“The baby’s face is red,” she said, her voice trembling.
“All babies are red when they are born,” snapped Asha. Sweat dappled his forehead. “Push again, Yeshi!”
With a cry that hurt Kevla’s ears, Yeshi panted and did as she was told. More of the baby slipped out into the waiting world.
The redness was still there. On the baby’s face, smeared with fluid but obviously there.
“Its face is red!” Kevla cried again, filled with horror.
“That is just the after birth,” Asha said. “Once more, Yeshi, push and bring forth the baby!”
Yeshi tensed, then growled low in her throat and bore down. The baby surged forward to splash into the bowl that Tahmu held. At that moment, Maluuk rushed in and took over from Asha, who seemed relieved to relinquish his position. The baby took a deep breath and squalled.
“A girl-child,” Maluuk said. “Whole and sound.”
“A daughter,” cried Yeshi as Tiah and Sahlik helped her to the bed and began to clean her. “I have a little girl…”
Kevla stared as if transfixed. The baby kicked and squirmed as Tahmu began to clean her. His smile started to fade as he washed her face, and the red marks that Asha had claimed were afterbirth did not come off on the towel.
“Maluuk—” he said, looking imploringly at the healer. Kevla’s arms folded about herself. She was suddenly very cold.
“The blood mark,” Maluuk whispered. Yeshi was still crying softly, but both Tiah and Sahlik had heard. Their eyes widened and they exchanged glances. Exhausted as she was, Yeshi caught the change of mood in the room. She propped herself up on her elbows.
“Tahmu? Give me our daughter!”
The baby was still shrieking. The blood mark covered fully half its face, an angry red blotch that spoke louder than any words of the displeasure of the Great Dragon.
“Tahmu…” Yeshi’s voice was pleading. She was begging for her husband to give her their child, for him to say that it was all right, that their baby was beautiful, perfect….
Tahmu did not answer. He snatched a cloth from Kevla’s stiff fingers and wrapped the baby in it, his eyes glued to the red blotch on his daughter’s face, and said in a cold voice, “Leave us.”
They hurried out, not wanting to see what had to happen next. Tahmu himself wished with every fiber of his being that he did not have to do this, but the traditions were clear. The baby was imperfect.
He rose unsteadily, clutching the crying, wriggling bundle to his heart. Tahmu met Yeshi’s eyes, and he saw her dawning comprehension.
“The blood mark,” he said heavily. He did not need to explain further. It was rare, but not unfamiliar to the people of Arukan, this bitter stain that sometimes singled out the unfortunate children of wretched parents.
He knew why this