you.’
*
They slept the remainder of the day. Ramita was awakened first by painful stirrings in her belly.
It’s too soon.
She clutched the tight mound of her stomach, fingering her belly button, which had popped out during the night flight from the Isle of Glass. Her whole womb was quivering; her skin was tight as a drum. But this was only the start of the ninth month. It was too soon. If the twins came early, they would likely die.
Stay safe, little ones. Stay inside your mother.
She had been frightened many times in the past year since Antonin Meiros had brought her north. She’d dreaded what awaited her in Hebusalim. She’d felt utter terror when Kazim and the Hadishah had murdered her husband. She still feared violence and imprisonment. Keeping her sanity intact through those long periods of doubt and stark seconds of terror had been a severe test – but fear of the impending births was worse than all the rest put together. Her husband had been a tall man – all these white people were giants – and she was sure his twins would be too big for her. If a woman could not push the babies from her belly, she had to be carved open, and that usually killed them. Every girl in Aruna Nagar grew up knowing that pregnancy would be the greatest trial of their lives. Some women were lucky and popped out children easily, but for most, every new child meant risking their lives all over again.
She glanced across at the unruly tuft of hair poking from beneath the blanket. Alaron’s head had flopped sideways, but his breathing was regular. He was so young – not much older than her – but she could see the adult beginning to form beneath the puppy fat. He didn’t look like a mighty jadugara, but during the fight at the Isle of Glass she had glimpsed someone more impressive emerging. There weren’t many she could trust just now, but he was one. She was glad he’d agreed to come with her.
Beneath the sheet she could make out the leather case that held the Scytale, this magical cylinder that could turn men into magi. She imagined how the Mughal’s court might receive such a thing, the desperate avarice it would engender. They were sailing into a storm. She prayed to the goddess, but no divine guidance came; there were no insights or brilliant new ideas. Eventually she drifted back to sleep while the sun spun above and jackals yowled in the distance.
During the nights that followed they flew south, flying by vague memories of the maps Alaron had seen. They took it slowly, not taking to the air until the sun was well gone and the sky was black. Some nights Ramita was too distressed by the internal convulsions to fly at all, but despite the discomfort, the babies stayed inside her and the days passed in travel, sleep and awkward conversation. Luna and her entourage of stars wheeled overhead until the fugitives realised that almost a month had passed. They were somewhere in south Dhassa, the empty lands far from the eastwards march of the Crusade. This time when they ran short of supplies they hid their skiff and approached the lonely settlements on foot, offering the meat of wild animals Alaron had managed to snare using beast-gnosis in trade for vegetables and rice. Many settlements were almost deserted and the crops gone to seed because the menfolk had been taken by the shihad, but they found enough food to get by. No one tried to scry them and they saw no pursuers, but every day Ramita’s cramps and convulsions became more frequent.
Only when they hit the ranges in the south of Dhassa did they begin to believe that they might just escape …
After some debate, they decided to continue south through, aiming for gaps in the coastal ranges. Under a waning moon the ground gave way to sea, boiling beneath them with a ferocity beyond even that of the northern seas about the Isle of Glass.
Alaron shouted above the winds, ‘What is this place?’
Ramita felt a surge of pride because she knew this. ‘It’s called the
*
They slept the remainder of the day. Ramita was awakened first by painful stirrings in her belly.
It’s too soon.
She clutched the tight mound of her stomach, fingering her belly button, which had popped out during the night flight from the Isle of Glass. Her whole womb was quivering; her skin was tight as a drum. But this was only the start of the ninth month. It was too soon. If the twins came early, they would likely die.
Stay safe, little ones. Stay inside your mother.
She had been frightened many times in the past year since Antonin Meiros had brought her north. She’d dreaded what awaited her in Hebusalim. She’d felt utter terror when Kazim and the Hadishah had murdered her husband. She still feared violence and imprisonment. Keeping her sanity intact through those long periods of doubt and stark seconds of terror had been a severe test – but fear of the impending births was worse than all the rest put together. Her husband had been a tall man – all these white people were giants – and she was sure his twins would be too big for her. If a woman could not push the babies from her belly, she had to be carved open, and that usually killed them. Every girl in Aruna Nagar grew up knowing that pregnancy would be the greatest trial of their lives. Some women were lucky and popped out children easily, but for most, every new child meant risking their lives all over again.
She glanced across at the unruly tuft of hair poking from beneath the blanket. Alaron’s head had flopped sideways, but his breathing was regular. He was so young – not much older than her – but she could see the adult beginning to form beneath the puppy fat. He didn’t look like a mighty jadugara, but during the fight at the Isle of Glass she had glimpsed someone more impressive emerging. There weren’t many she could trust just now, but he was one. She was glad he’d agreed to come with her.
Beneath the sheet she could make out the leather case that held the Scytale, this magical cylinder that could turn men into magi. She imagined how the Mughal’s court might receive such a thing, the desperate avarice it would engender. They were sailing into a storm. She prayed to the goddess, but no divine guidance came; there were no insights or brilliant new ideas. Eventually she drifted back to sleep while the sun spun above and jackals yowled in the distance.
During the nights that followed they flew south, flying by vague memories of the maps Alaron had seen. They took it slowly, not taking to the air until the sun was well gone and the sky was black. Some nights Ramita was too distressed by the internal convulsions to fly at all, but despite the discomfort, the babies stayed inside her and the days passed in travel, sleep and awkward conversation. Luna and her entourage of stars wheeled overhead until the fugitives realised that almost a month had passed. They were somewhere in south Dhassa, the empty lands far from the eastwards march of the Crusade. This time when they ran short of supplies they hid their skiff and approached the lonely settlements on foot, offering the meat of wild animals Alaron had managed to snare using beast-gnosis in trade for vegetables and rice. Many settlements were almost deserted and the crops gone to seed because the menfolk had been taken by the shihad, but they found enough food to get by. No one tried to scry them and they saw no pursuers, but every day Ramita’s cramps and convulsions became more frequent.
Only when they hit the ranges in the south of Dhassa did they begin to believe that they might just escape …
After some debate, they decided to continue south through, aiming for gaps in the coastal ranges. Under a waning moon the ground gave way to sea, boiling beneath them with a ferocity beyond even that of the northern seas about the Isle of Glass.
Alaron shouted above the winds, ‘What is this place?’
Ramita felt a surge of pride because she knew this. ‘It’s called the
Similar Books
