Orim nodded. "I've seen it too, but it's a problem with a solution. The baby is breeched, turned in the womb. It's coming out wrong. We'll have to try to move it around inside." She looked about the hut and caught sight of the tribesman who had awoken her, bearing a large bowl.
From his place in the corner Cho-Manno stepped over to the man, placed his hands above the bowl, and murmured a word. Steam rose from the surface, and Orim plunged her hands into the hot water, almost scalding but barely tolerable.
"You too," she said to Ta-Karnst. "We don't want to cause infection."
The healer shrugged, immersing his hands. Then he knelt on one side of the struggling woman, holding her legs apart while Orim slowly forced her wet fingers inside. Is-Meisha cried out, a shudder convulsing her limbs. Ta-Spon growled something unintelligible and took a heavy step forward, but Cho-Manno put a hand on his big shoulder, restraining him.
Orim probed delicately. Only once before had she delivered a breeched baby, a number of years ago during one of Weatherlight's journeys. Now she touched the baby's tiny limbs, feeling it stir. She withdrew her hand and looked at Ta-Karnst.
"Definitely a breech. The baby is feetfirst."
"Can you suggest anything?"
"Let's try to rotate the child in the womb. But it's tricky, and it will hurt Is-Meisha."
The last phrase penetrated Ta-Spon's anxiety, and he tensed.
Cho-Manno tightened his grip on the big man's arm, saying quietly to Orim, "If you do nothing, will the child die?"
"Probably."
"And Is-Meisha?"
"Ta-Karnst is right." Orim washed her hands in the hot water, rubbing the blood and mucus off. "Often in such cases the mother dies as well."
Ta-Spon groaned, sweat dripping from his forehead. He bent over his mate, rocking back and forth in an agony of indecision. Is-Meisha shuddered as another contraction seized her, and a soft cry escaped her lips. Ta-Spon clutched her tiny hand in his enormous paw and nodded his assent to Orim.
The healer once again plunged her hand into the hot water, while Cho-Manno motioned to the big man to move back. He positioned himself behind Is-Meisha, stroking her head, murmuring a soft, slow chant. Outside the hut, the chant was taken up by the waiting crowd, filling the room. It washed away tension like a cleansing rain dragging dust from the air.
Again Ta-Karnst pushed apart the young woman's legs, and Orim reached in with her hand. She touched the tiny feet, pushing them gently back while at the same time her other hand pressed against the woman's belly, carefully manipulsting the baby's shoulder.
Another contraction came, nearly crushing her fingers, and her involuntary cry matched that of Is-Meisha. When the contraction subsided, Orim tried to will away the pain as she again worked her hands around the small body.
There! She pushed on the feet, while from the outside pressing on the upper torso of the child. For an agonizing second she met resistance, and the thought flickered through her mind that perhaps this was too much, perhaps the best thing was to remove the child in any way possible, to let it die and save Is-Meisha… but then, the fetus turned.
She withdrew her fingers with a gasp and plunged them into the bowl of water. "All right. Now let's try again, shall we, Is-Meisha? The next time there's a contraction, push. Push with all your might!"
The pregnant woman gave a scream as a fresh wave of contractions wracked her body, yet in the scream there was now a note of triumph. It was Ta-Karnst, leaning forward, eyes alert, who caught the tiny form as it emerged. He made a quick slashing motion, cutting the umbilical cord that bound baby to mother, and proudly lifted the newborn aloft.
Orim sat back, gasping for breath. Then, a second later, she realized something was wrong, very wrong. She turned to Cho-Manno. "Why isn't she crying? Why isn't she crying? What's wrong?"
Is-Meisha lay back, completely spent, her eyes closed, her mind oblivious to the fate of her child. Cho-Manno looked sadly at Orim, touching her hair gently. Orim felt the tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.
Ta-Karnst ignored both of them and showed no signs of mourning. Holding the child's body with one hand, he spread his other over the bowl in which he and Orim had washed their hands. His voice snapped out a command. Then, without hesitation, he plunged the child into the water.
Orim started forward in protest but was brought up short by the baby's squeal of outrage. The noise seemed to arouse Is-Meisha, who moaned and reached out her arms. Carefully TaKarnst wrapped the baby in a blanket and deposited her in her parent's arms. Ta-Spon, whose great hand had been pressed to his mouth during the birth, rushed forward to join his mate and baby daughter. He lay close by them, cradling them in his arms.
Orim rose and almost fell. Black spots swam before her eyes. She felt hands catch her arms, Cho-Manno on one side, Ta-Karnst on the other. Together they gently led her from the hut.
At the entrance, Cho-Manno halted and lifted his arms for silence from the crowd of Cho-Arrim. "She has come," he said. "Another soul to join the Great River of our people." There was a murmur of acclamation from those assembled, and they began to sing a welcoming song.
Cho-Manno looked from Ta-Karnst to Orim and said, "You did well. Both of you."
Orim turned to the Cho-Arrim healer. "I thought the child Was dead."
Ta-Karnst shrugged. "Sometimes the child has a hard birth and will not breathe. But a little cold water helps."
"Of course," Orim chuckled. "You turned the hot water cold and then immersed the baby." She laid a hand on the healer's arm, but he pulled away as if embarrassed, touched a hand to his forehead, and slipped silently into the darkness beneath the trees.
Cho-Manno put an arm about Orim's slender shoulders. "Tired, chavala?"
She shook her head.
"Then come with me. We will sit by the waters and talk until our souls fall into the everlasting river that races through the sky."
He guided her footsteps over the causeway, over root and branch, until before them Orim saw the soft glint of distant moonlight on the still waters of the lagoon. Cho-Manno sat down on a low stone. The water rippled about his dangling feet. He motioned for her to join him.
Orim did. Listening to the murmur of night noises, she felt a sense of peace such as she had never experienced.
Beside her Cho-Manno was silent, but she could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. Orim watched his face in profile, the strong line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his brow, the thick, dark hair braided with countless coins.
He looked at her, his eyes gleaming. "You are strong, Orim, yet gentle. I admired you as you brought that child into the world tonight."
"As I helped," Orim corrected. "Ta-Karnst deserves credit."
"You are two sides of the same coin, chavala. Ta-Karnst is the head, while you are the heart. He himself has come to see this." Cho-Manno bent, his fingers barely touching the surface of the water. From his outstretched hand, a ripple of light ran away across the surface, flashing, diving, recombining in a hundred different forms. At last it faded away.
Orim, in her days among the Cho-Arrim, had become used to such water magic, but it never ceased to delight her.
Cho-Manno leaned back against her and slumped wearily.
"You are tired."
"Yes. The watchers reported today, and I spoke long with them."
"Who are the watchers?"
"Those who watch from the eaves of the wood. They speak with the trees and the water and watch the people of the mountain."
"And what do these watchers say to you?" Cho-Manno flicked another light pattern across the water. "They say there have been dust clouds on the horizon. Mercadians returning. The watchers will attack as soon as invaders harm the forest. The Mercadians haven't yet, but they will. They always do-and now, especially. They come for the soul of the Uniter." He motioned to where Weatherlight lay at anchor.