Sing the Four Quarters (44 page)

"What stopped!"

"Every now and then, it… that is, this," she tapped the curve gently, "gets all hard, kind of tightens from the top down."

"So it's happened before?"

Annice nodded. "But it never hurt before."

Pjerin felt a sudden line of sweat bead down the center of his back. "You're not… I mean… you couldn't be…"

"I'm not due until Second Quarter Festival and that's…" She stopped and looked up at him, eyes wide. "That's soon, Pjerin. I didn't realize it was so soon. What are we going to do?"

He dropped to one knee beside her, ignoring the wet that began to immediately soak through his breeches. "The moon was almost full last night; remember how it looked before the clouds came down?" When she nodded, he continued, his voice low and soothing although under the calm facade his heart slammed against his ribs. "That means we're got a little better than fourteen days to Second Quarter Festival. All we've got to do is get to the keep. There's a midwife in the village. A good one. She'll see that everything goes all right."

Annice reached out and brushed a strand of damp hair back off his face. "But they think you're a traitor at the keep.

You condemned yourself in front of them under Command."

"So if you've got time, you'll put me back under Command and we'll tell them what really happened. And if you don't,"

he captured her hand with both of his, slipping his wounded arm out of the sling, "they'll lock me in a room for a few days until you're well enough to straighten things out. But, Annice, whatever they think of me, won't affect how they treat either you or my child."

"My child," she corrected automatically. Then, realizing that was the response he'd expected, smiled. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly on the forehead. "Thank you."

"Just don't have that baby while I'm the only one around to deal with it." Although he spoke lightly, he'd never meant anything more.

"I'll do my best." The last word came out like a small explosion and they both stared at the billowing folds of shift and overdress.

"Was that a foot?" Pjerin asked, awed.

Less awed by what had become a frequent occurrence whenever she stopped walking, Annice nodded. "Both feet."

The tiny body rolled and kicked and, teeth clenched, she pushed herself up on Pjerin's good shoulder. "On second thought, I'm ready to have it now."

Pjerin stood as well, tucking his arm back into the triangle of cloth that theoretically held it immobile. "It can't be far to the keep."

Annice snorted and pulled Milena forward. "It had better not be."

Late that afternoon when they were watering the animals, Pjerin peered upstream. "I know where we are," he announced triumphantly. "That ravine widens out the farther you go into it and there're caves cut into the sides. When I was thirteen, my father led a hunting party down it to kill a bear."

Leaning on the mule's warm flank, Annice looked disgusted. "Why didn't he just leave it alone?"

"It had already been wounded," Pjerin explained, "probably in a fight with another male, and it was hanging around the valley attacking the livestock. People started to worry about losing children, so Father went after it." Bending, he slurped water up off his cupped palm. "If I can find the cave, we'll sleep warm and dry tonight."

"If it isn't already occupied."

He grinned at her, spirits lifted by familiarity. "Bards think too highly of themselves to share?"

"Bards think too highly of themselves to be eaten," she told him.

They'd just reached the edge of the ravine where raw dirt walls, too steep for any but the most tenacious plants, marked the depth the water had risen in the past when, all at once, Annice stopped.

"Pjerin!"

He turned so quickly he stumbled and nearly fell. "Is it happening again?"

"What? No, it's the kigh!" She stared at the ground. "I've never seen them so… Here!" She thrust the lead rope into his hands, carefully lowered herself into a squat, and Sang a question.

Pjerin backed up one incredulous step. As Annice Sang, the earth in front of her heaved and rolled. He stared, amazed, and could almost make out the individual shapes of the agitated kigh. Amazement grew as the earth continued to move even after Annice stopped Singing. Then he caught sight of her expression and amazement turned to fear.

"You've got to follow them, Pjerin. Hurry!"

He opened his mouth to ask her why, but her next words snapped it closed.

"Gerek's been hurt. They think he's dying."

The disturbance in the earth moved up the ravine as though a giant mole were digging just below the surface at full speed. Through the roaring in his ears Pjerin heard Annice say she'd catch up as fast as she could, then he was running in pursuit of the kigh.

They remained exactly the same distance in front of him as they had when he began. Pjerin's lungs began to burn as he raced toward his son. His wounded shoulder ached as loose dirt and stone forced him to flail about with both arms lest he lose his balance. He'd been running forever, he was certain of it, when he saw the tiny body lying half covered in muddy water.

"Gerek!"

Diving to his knees, Pjerin caught up the still, pale body of his child. A part of him knew that the boy could have internal damage and that moving him was the worst thing he could do, but all the other parts only wanted to hold him.

Scratches and welts covered every inch of exposed skin and slack lips had already taken on a hint of blue. His son draped across his lap, Pjerin lowered his head until his left ear rested on what seemed a minimal curve of chest. He couldn't remember Gerek being so small. The tears began when, faint but unmistakable, he heard a heartbeat.

Hands trembling, Pjerin pulled off sodden clothes and searched for broken bones; arms and legs were bruised but solid. A blue and purple lump covered half his forehead from his hairline to just over his right eye.

"So cold…" Stripping off his shirt, ignoring the tearing pain as he stretched tissue that had barely begun to heal, Pjerin pressed the child's limp body against his torso, skin to skin. Body heat was all he had to give. "Papa's here," he murmured, "everything's going to be all right." Holding Gerek in place with one arm, he began frantically massaging chilled flesh with the other.

Annice arrived a few moments later, gasping for breath, her knuckles white around the pack strap she'd been clutching so that the trotting mule could support some of her weight. She stared down at Pjerin still rubbing Gerek's unresponsive body and got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She'd seen dead children before and although the kigh said Gerek still lived, she knew that he'd be taking his place in the Circle soon. If they could get him to a healer…

but the nearest was in Marienka, and he wouldn't live five hours let alone five days.

She watched Pjerin's back as he tried to rub warmth and life back into his son and couldn't think of a thing to say.

Finally, she knelt across from him, reached out, and gently touched him on the shoulder.

Pjerin jerked his head up and stared at her for a moment with no idea of who she was. His whole world had become the child in his arms. Then he remembered. His hand wrapped around her wrist and he dragged her closer. "Sing!" he commanded. "Sing and make him better."

He was hurting her, but she made no move to pull away. "I'm not a healer, Pjerin. I can't."

"You can!" he insisted, eyes burning into hers. "The healer who came to me in Elbasan told me that some believe the body has a kigh and that's what they heal. You Sing all four quarters, Annice. Sing five!"

"That's not how it works," she began, but he cut her off, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"It has to work! I'm begging you, Annice." He searched for a way to make her realize how important this was. "Gerek's dying. I'll give up all rights to the child you carry if you can just save him. Please. You have to try."

"But…"

"Annice, please."

Her own cheeks wet, Annice swallowed and opened her mouth to Sing him comfort, something that would help to take the edges off his pain, when she felt a gentle touch on her knee.

The kigh nodded when she glanced down at it. And when she glanced past it, a whole circle of kigh nodded.

Annice drew in a long shuddering breath and pulled her hand from Pjerin's grip. It wouldn't hurt anything to try. She touched Gerek lightly with her fingertips, and Sang.

She had to Sing earth, it was all she really could Sing now, but she tried to put into it all that she'd felt that morning in the valley when everything had been new and anything was possible. Because love crossed all four quarters, she Sang Pjerin's love for his son and her love for the baby beneath her heart.

The kigh moved closer.

Gerek's heartbeat became slower, fainter.

So she Sang Gerek. Everything she knew about him. Everything she'd seen, everything she'd guessed, everything Pjerin had told her.

It wasn't going to be enough.

She knew it.

She heard Pjerin moan. He knew it, too.

The kigh began to Sing with her; a familiar rumble of sound, felt rather than heard.

Familiar…

Eyes closed, Annice began the first anthem Sung to earth at Final Quarter Festival. The kigh took it up. When she finished, she began water. Behind her, the music of the stream slowed. Impossibly, she heard a liquid ripple of Song.

Fire. Orange tongues of flame danced over the grass on the bank. Air. It was more a plea than an anthem. Her voice took the music and begged with it. Just as she thought it doomed to fail, her hair lifted off the back of her neck and cold fingers traced patterns on her skin.

Tears streaming down her face, Annice ran up the last notes of air and right into the joyous welcome of the sun throwing herself into the Song. Light returns. Life continues.

And another voice Sang with her. A silent voice. A gentle voice. A strong voice.

It Sang healing.

Gerek's heart beat faster. Stronger. His skin began to warm.

One by one, the kigh fell silent.

The silent voice and Annice continued on a moment longer together.

Then only Annice Sang.

Cradled in his father's arms, Gerek coughed and started to cry.

Annice felt the kigh catch her as she fell.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Papa? I think she's awake."

Annice winced as Gerek's piping voice drove slivers ; of sound deep into both ears. She whimpered and that hurt, too.

If she could have turned off the pounding of the pulse that boomed like a kettledrum within the confines of her skull, she would have.

"Annice?"

Pjerin's voice was low, very nearly a whisper, and much less painful. He sounded worried. She struggled to open her eyes but couldn't seem to remember how her eyelids worked.

"Annice? Can you hear me?"

Of course I can hear you
! she wanted to snarl as he spoke a little louder.
You're echoing
! But all that emerged was a strangled croak. Her throat felt as if she'd tried to swallow a dozen knives and they'd all gotten jammed point first between jaw and collarbone.

A sudden sharp blow against her spine diverted her attention with a sudden sharp pain and her concentration focused on the movements in her womb. She realized with incredulous joy that she could hear the soft, steady rhythm of her baby's heartbeat.

"Help me move her onto her back, Gerek."

"Are you gonna give her a drink?"

"As soon as we move her so she won't spill it."

The voices, the noises of movement, were making it harder and harder to hold onto the fragile sound of the unborn life.

Annice fought to keep the contact, but gradually it slipped away, lost in the surrounding sounds.

"Papa, she's crying."

"Annice?" A warm finger brushed moisture from her cheek. "Are you all right?"

She didn't know.

"Annice?"

She could feel each thread of the clothing pressed against her, feel Pjerin's breath warm on her face, feel the weight of his concern. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

There wasn't a lot of light, but Pjerin was so close that she didn't need much light to see him. He'd shaved off his beard and the white skin of his lower face looked ridiculous against the upper tan. She tried to tell him so but, again, all that emerged was a dry croak.

He slipped his arm behind her and lifted her head. "Here, drink this. Not so fast," he cautioned as her mouth gaped and she desperately gulped at the liquid.

The water felt like silk on the inside of her throat, stroking and soothing abraded flesh. Her hands came up and grabbed the cup. The metal was cool and beaded with moisture, but when she tried to tip it higher, she couldn't budge it against Pjerin's strength.

When it was empty, she managed a single word. "More."

Pjerin handed the cup to Gerek who scrambled to his feet and raced from her limited line of sight.

Because he was all she could see, Annice watched Pjerin watching her. The intensity of emotion on his face puzzled her and she wondered why he held her hands as though afraid to let them go.

Then Gerek came back with the second cup of water and she realized what that meant.

Gerek lived.

She'd somehow done the impossible.

As she drank, she tried to sort through what had happened, but her memories were cloudy and uncertain. The kigh had Sung with her and so had… so had… The harder she tried, the less clear it became, so she sighed and let it go. Later, she'd have someone put her into a recall trance, but for now it would have to be enough that Gerek lived.

The cup empty, she flinched as the baby squirmed, trying to find a comfortable position in what was becoming too little space.

"Pjerin?"

He leaned even closer to hear her.

"I've got to… pee."

His smile seemed to spread from ear to ear, but there was a new gentleness in it that she found she rather liked the look of. "Of course you do."

He had to lift her to her feet and then he had to half carry her out of the cave. To her surprise, her helplessness made her neither resentful nor embarrassed. Pjerin's strength was there for her to lean on, but it wasn't a threat and it wasn't a challenge.