12ish

The steam from three large jars filled the kitchen, and Ved’s hair stuck to her sweaty face. She brushed it away impatiently with the back of her wrist, and continued stirring the pots to heat the water evenly. She let the wooden spoon rest against the side of one of the jars, and strode across the kitchen. She grabbed the mallet and rang the bronze chime once. Nost appeared through the steam.

“I need more stalks for the fire; it’s cooling down, and I need to keep it hot.”

Nost nodded. “Have her birthing pains started yet?”

Ved shook her head. “No, and I wish they would. Then I might know when we’ll need the water. But they haven’t started and I don’t know, so I’ve got to keep the water hot until we do need it.” She turned and went back into the kitchen as Nost walked into the garden. He walked towards the back of the garden, where the desert sands began to intrude into the cultivated ground. Dried plants stalks were piled there in dense bundles, twisted and bound so as to burn longer. Nost began loading his arms with bundles of the stalks, but paused as a shadowy figure came over a dune. He froze, expecting to see the flowing black robes of the priest, but relaxed as a flash of green assured him that it was his master making his way towards the house.

Mushad hailed Nost, and began helping him gather the stalks. He picked up a small armful himself, and the two men carried the load in. Ved directed Nost to stack the stalks by the door, and went back to heating the water. She settled the pots more firmly in the coals, and began heating bread and beans for the household dinner.

There was a moment when there was nothing to be done except maintain the heat of the coals and make sure that the bread didn’t burn; Ved slowly sank into a small stool that she kept in the kitchen, and rubbed her aching legs. For the hundredth time since she was rescued from her raft, she gave thanks for her training in stances and posture; if not for those hours in the temple on Asyr, she might have collapsed hours ago. She dipped a small cup into one of the pots, and drew out a small amount of steaming water. She reached into a small pouch and took a pinch of herbs out, which she crumbled into the cup. She swirled the contents around until the water took on a slightly reddish tint, and then drank the hot liquid down.

She felt the heat rush down her throat, and into her legs and arms, reinvigorating her senses. A sharp cry echoed through the hallways, and the cup slipped from her fingers, cracking on the stone pavement. Ved was gone before it hit the ground; she ran into her mistress’ bedroom to find Zula doubled over in pain.

She ran to her side, and helped her lie flat. “It’s alright, it’s time, it’ll be over soon now.” Zula nodded wordlessly, biting her lip. “Now, lie here, and I will get the water ready. We’ll try to get your muscles to relax a little to ease the pain. I’ll be right back, don’t worry.” Ved walked quickly out of the room; once out of sight of the bedroom, she ran, dashing into the kitchen. She grabbed a handful of thick rags from a stack she had laid near the stove earlier in the day, and quickly threw them into one of the water jars. She pushed the rags down into the steaming water with the wooden spoon, then pulled them out with the end of the spoon. She grasped one corner of the bundle, ignoring the pain, and wrapped the rag tightly around the wooden handle, squeezing the excess water from the fabric.

Ved grabbed the wad of hot material, and rushed back into the bedroom. She paused for a moment outside the door to regain her composure, and pushed back the curtain. Zula still lay back on the pillow; the pains had passed for the moment, but they would return. The housekeeper folded each rag neatly, and placed them carefully under Zula’s back, and over her hips, positioning them precisely, so as to apply maximum heat to the muscles without overheating Zula.

Mushad came dashing through the door, nearly ripping the curtain from its rings. “Are you alright? Nost told me he heard a cry, is it time?” He looked rapidly from Zula’s face to Ved’s.

Ved smiled, and nodded. “It’s time, but the baby will not be here for a while. Zula has hours of work ahead of her. You can stay with her for now; the pains are not great, and you can help her relax.”

Ved left the room again, and Zula looked up at her husband. He knelt by the bed, and grabbed her hand. “I wish that my mother had not died last year—she would have been so happy to see this day. She thought I would never marry, and lamented my lack of children repeatedly. I—“ Zula placed a finger over his lips and smiled. “Dear one, you are babbling. I think you are more nervous about this than I am. Don’t worry, I have you to watch over me, and Ved seems to know what to do. In fact, I think she knows much more about things than she lets on. I always wonder where she came from before you found her.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. No-one could ever get her to talk of her former home, and there were no other boats in the area. Perhaps someday she will feel safe enough to tell us, but until then…And yes, I’m glad that she is here to look after you, more glad than I can say.” He paused, as Ved herself came through the curtains with a fresh load of steaming cloths. She peeled the cooled cloths off of Zula’s body and replaced them with the hot ones before bustling out of the door again.

As the evening wore on, Zula’s pains increased in intensity and frequency. For the first few hours, she held onto Mushad when the contractions came, digging her fingernails into his arm as she tried not to cry out. As the moons rose over the sands, Ved finally shooed Mushad out of the room, and called in one of the serving girls. “It’s getting close now. Be ready to help her push.”

Suddenly a rush of clear fluid rushed out of Zula’s body and soaked the sheets. Zula turned her head away in shame, but Ved simply laughed, and clasped her hand. “It’s alright, it’s normal; it means the baby is on her way. She’ll be here by morning, I expect.”

Mushad paced the stones of the garden walkway, cracking his knuckles nervously. Even from here, he could hear the sharp cries that escaped from his wife as the contractions came on her. He ran his fingers through his hair, and tried to mutter the evening prayers, but the words got confused in his head, and came out jumbled.

A piercing moan rang out across the courtyard, and he clapped his hands over his ears. Mushad ran out of the garden, and fell on his knees in the sand. The dunes were lit with the blue-gold light of the two moons, and he raised his hands towards the bright star that hung on the horizon and prayed desperately. “You who guard the horizon, who watch over our coming and our going, be with my wife and child at this hour. Open the doors for my child to enter the world, and watch over my beloved as she leaves maidenhood and enters the world of the mother. I will give you any sacrifice you ask, even that of my own life, but let my wife and my child pass through into the light of day.” A distant line of palms swayed gently in a sudden breeze, and a loud cry from Zula was joined by the mewling voice of an infant. Mushad fell on his face in the sand, and wept like a child.

“Mado, meet your father,” Zula whispered, cradling the swaddled bundle close to her. She looked into the dark eyes of her husband, and swore that she could see new lines around the edges that had not been there the previous morning. He bent down, whiskers scratching her cheek pleasantly, and hesitantly caressed the infant’s hand with the tip of his finger. The baby’s fingers reached out and curled around his knuckle, and he laughed with surprise and delight. “Look, she knows you!” Zula nuzzled the child’s cheek, and marveled again at it’s softness.

Ved stood quietly in the corner, watching the new family. She smiled, and left the room, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

Mushad gently traced the child's features, and pulled back the cloth that covered her head. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the shock of white-gold hair on the infant's head. "White?" he whispered.

Zula nodded, blissfully aware of his misgivings. "Yes, it runs in my family. My aunt had the most beuatiful white hair I've ever seen, everyone said she was born with it."

"And what color are Mado's eyes?"

"Purple, like mine." Her voice was quiet and calm, but he thought he could hear a current of tension underneath it. "But I've heard that the color of a baby's eyes will often change."

Mushad was quiet for a long time, fingers distractedly stroking the soft arm of Mado. "Zula, there will be questions asked. You are a young and beautiful woman, whose husband is often gone." Zula opened her mouthn to protest, but Mushad kissed her before she could speak. "No, dear one, I do not doubt you. But others might." He twisted a lock of her hair between his fingers. "And it could be worse. The people here believe that the white hair is an evil sign, that anyone who bears it is a hadji, a spirit from the sea that wreaks havoc on the the land-dwellers, ruining crops and causing droughts."

Zula shivered, and clutched the infant closer to her breast. Mushad sighed, and edged onto the bed. He wrapped his arms around his young wife, and held her close. "It's alright. I will make sure that nothing happens to you. You are my life, and I would sink all my ships with all their cargo into the depths of the sea to protect you and Mado." Zula leaned against him, and was asleep in moments.