I took a deep, steadying breath, then a second one. And I went in to see what the Northern bascha and I had wrought.
The old woman of Mehmet's aketni was helping Del drink a cup of something that smelled slightly astringent. When she saw me come into the bedroom, she smiled, set the cup down, and waved me in. Staring at Del, I didn't notice her departure.
I couldn't see any baby. Just Del, lying beneath the covers. She was propped up against pillows. Lines of exhaustion were in her face, but there was also a contentment that outshone everything else.
I lingered in the doorway until she saw me. Her hair, wet with perspiration, was pulled back, braided out of the way. Her smile was weary, but happy.
"Where is it?" I asked.
"Where is she, Tiger. A baby is not an it."
Ah, good. She sounded normal.
Then it struck me. "It's a girl?"
"That's what 'she' usually means. And she's right here."
I saw then that they had wrapped the baby in so many layers that she looked more like a lump of bedclothes than a person. Del lifted that lump from beside her. I heard a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like a sandconey warning of predators.
"Come see your daughter."
I didn't move. "You don't want to do this again, do you? Ten or twelve more times?"
Del looked horrified. "No! Why do you ask me such a thing?"
"Alric said you could have ten or twelve more . . . and he and Lena are already headed in that direction."
She laughed. "Tiger, stop putting it off and come and see your daughter."
When I reached the bed, Del put up a hand and urged me to sit. I did, very carefully. And then she peeled back the wrappings and I saw the face.
I was aghast. "What's wrong with her?"– . '
"There's nothing wrong with her."
"She's all red and wrinkled! And she has no hair!"
Del's smile bloomed. "The red will fade, the wrinkles will go, and the hair will grow. But she does have some hair, Tiger. It's baby fuzz. See?"
To please Del, I said that yes, I could see the wisps of something that approximated hair. But if that's all she was going to have the rest of her life, I wouldn't have to worry about what men might think.
"Hold her, Tiger. She's yours, too."
I recoiled. "I'd drop her!"
"You won't drop her. Have you ever dropped a sword?"
I refused. "You can hold her. I'll just look at her."
"I'm very tired," Del said. "I'm very weak. I need you to hold her."
I cocked an eyebrow at her. "You aren't any better at lying now than you were before she was born."
Del was aggrieved. "I am tired, Tiger."
She was. Some of the animation in her face had faded. "Are you all right? I mean, will you be all right?"
"I will be fine just as soon as you hold your daughter."
I scowled. She always did drive a hard bargain. "All right. What do I do?"
"Just take her in your arms and cradle her. Put her head in the crook of your elbow."
"What if she cries?"
"Just hold her."
"What if she's hungry?"
"Then give her back to me."
I leaned forward, grasped the lump, lifted. Discovered she weighed nearly nothing.
Del's tone was appalled. "Don't just clutch her in midair, Tiger! Hold her against your chest."
Apparently I got it sorted out, because Del quit giving me advice. She lay there smiling at us both.
I ventured, "Does she have any arms and legs, or is she just a lump with a head attached?"
Del sighed. "I should have known you wouldn't appreciate the moment."
I grinned. "It's not a moment, bascha. It's a baby."
She reached out a hand and stroked the wrappings. "I thought maybe we could call her Sula."
It shocked me. I could think of nothing to say.
"That woman gave you your freedom," Del said. "As much as there was to be found in the Salset. Not enough, I know—but more than you might have had otherwise."
After a moment, when I had my emotions under control, I nodded. "Take her," I said. "Bascha—take her."
She heard the tone in my voice. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Nothing, bascha." I leaned forward, steadied the little bundle as she was taken from me, then bent down and kissed Del's forehead. "Rest. I'll come back later."
I waited until she had settled the baby beside her. As her eyes drifted closed, I left the room.
Alric saw my face as I came out of the house. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"You look—odd."
"I'm fine."
"Then why are you in harness?"
"There's something I need to do."
"Tiger—something's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong," I repeated. "There's just something I need to do." I paused. "Alone."
Alric was troubled. He and Lena were sitting outside the house on the wooden bench I'd built. The chickens Mehmet had given us darted around the dooryard, and the half-grown gray tabby cat was chasing an insect. We had, in six months, accumulated all the trappings of a regular family: a house, chickens, mouser, two goats.
And now a daughter.
"I have to, Alric. I'll be back later."
He nodded and let me go.
I met up with Neesha and Ahriman at the passageway into the upper canyon. Ahriman was a short, compact Southroner with black hair and eyes. He was several years younger than Neesha and rather shy in my presence. Which made it difficult to get him to actually attack me in the schooling circle. He did better with Neesha, whom he did not hold in awe.
"How's Del?" Neesha asked at once.
"She's fine. So's the baby."
"She had it?"
"Her. She had 'her.' " I nodded. "A little while ago."
Neesha was studying me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
"Tiger-"
I stopped him with a raised hand. "Nothing is wrong. Go on up and see Del and the baby—she's your half-sister, after all. I'll be back."
Neesha didn't look any less concerned than Alric. But I had no time for them.
No time for much of anything.
The climb up to the broken chimney was easier now than when I'd made it six months before. Not only did I know where I was going, but I was utterly focused on my goal. When I reached the tunnel, I didn't think twice about the darkness. I ducked my head, went inside, followed it back to the slot near the boulders blocking the rest of the passageway. There I took off the harness, dropped it to the dirt floor, and pulled the stopper from the little pot I'd collected on the way out of the house. I smeared grease on my abdomen and spine, tossed the empty pot away, unsheathed the jivatma. I left the harness where it lay.
It wasn't easy getting through the slot. Neesha had been right about leaving layers of skin on the rock. But the grease served me well, and at last I scraped myself into the chimney.
The chamber was small, about one-quarter the size of the original circle. Sunlight worked its way down through cracks, illuminating the area, but the chimney wasn't a chimney anymore. Mostly it was a pile of rocks and sections of ribbed wall. But the floor was still the pale Punja sand Del and I had discovered before.
I glanced around. Found what I expected: Del's jivatma. Boreal lay in two pieces. I didn't touch them. I set down my sword and bent to unlace my sandals. When that was done, I stripped out of my dhoti. I collected my sword, moved to the center of what remained of the chimney chamber, and sat down cross-legged with the jivatma across my thighs.
In fractured light, I looked at my hands. Two thumbs, three fingers on each. The stubs were no less obvious than before, but I hadn't really noticed them for a while. The training I'd done on the island near Haziz still served me. Since settling in the canyon, I had spent every day working through the forms, keeping myself fit. Sparring matches with Neesha and Alric—I had refused to fight Del once I knew she was pregnant, which irritated her to no end—maintained my speed, strength, and technique. In fact, Alric said I was better than before.