Ecdysis

 

 

 

Yeva

“You seem to be quite enamoured by your sweets, Yeva.” Aikerim shook her head, but mirth was tugging the corners of her lips upward. “Insomuch that I am starting to wonder whether Erf had left you a gift before he left or not.”

Yeva put aside the piece of chocolate she was about to eat and sighed. “In a manner of speaking, he did. The estate is like a fussy child that demands constant attention and care. It requires work and said work requires sustenance. A lot of sustenance. Chocolate is not just sweet but nutritiously dense — I would rather enjoy a few pieces of sweets than force an entire loaf of bread down my throat.”

Domina frowned. “Or you can ask for help instead. I know you trust few, but I have a handful of vetted servants who are versed in administration. There are more important tasks for you to focus on… Unless that is but an excuse to indulge yourself with sweets — I do not mind, but make sure Roxanna Inayat doesn’t notice. I made it known that the sweets are both rare and expensive and I prefer not to be accused of lying.”

Reminded about the upcoming meeting, Yeva rechecked her clothes and adjusted her blindfold. The heavily embroidered piece of silk had become a customary part of her attire anytime she was leaving the Manor. It didn’t impede the senses of her augmented body yet kept others at bay. Whether out of pity or disgust mattered little to her. It also hid most of her face from onlookers, especially those well-versed in reading faces. Like the Kosenya Matriarch. “It is not the lack of trust that stops me, it is the lack of skill and ability. I have no engineers who can take my or Erf’s ideas and turn them into complete drawings for Wrena or Isra to work with. And, while both of them pick up new knowledge quite quickly, we need them in their workshops and not in front of the drafting tables. Especially now.”

Aikerim waved at Yeva with her tail. “Don’t sulk. The three hundred brigandines are worth more in goodwill and favours from Kosenya than mere gold. Besides, it is prudent to keep your new apprentices occupied with something… impactful.”

Yeva shook her head. “I am not complaining. If not for this request, they would be making armour for your Manor guards anyway — Isra, Wrena, and I didn’t waste our time building the rolling mill and the stamping press for the machines to sit idle in the corner.”

“Yes, I am aware; both Wrena and Isra were quite… impressed by the new steel press. A word of advice for this meeting and the future — do not promise Matriarchs things you aren’t fully certain about. They tend to live long lives and have good memories, while their opinions are often shared by hundreds if not thousands. Being remembered as an incompetent braggart for the next hundred years would do no one any favours. Whether that one is a daimonic alchemist or a Pillar Domina.” Aikerim stretched and leisurely stepped out of her litter. A nearby servant quickly covered Domina from the late autumn drizzle with a fancy umbrella. “Besides, armours for the Kosenya hold more gravitas. Not to you, no, but to your new apprentices. They might not be the first sons and daughters of their respective families but they are Pillar wermages nevertheless. They will be easier to manage if they see their skills being properly applied.”

The carriers put Yeva’s palanquin on a designed platform and she joined her Domina under the umbrella. The weather wasn’t too bad — not yet at least, as the heavier rains would come later in the winter — but appearances were important. Especially when the Kosenya Pillar was floating above their heads. An enormous tower, suspended in the air by Divine magic. The unmistakable symbol of their might and their Divine favour.

One of Domina’s husbands, Ramad Qasam, disembarked from his litter nearby. Yet another weapon in the battle of appearances, for he was here to show off his brigandine armour as well as the black wooden skinsuit underneath. In more ways than one, at that — Yeva had noticed him gathering quite a lot of… specific attention as they were travelling through Samat. Without the customary wermage khalat to cover his body, his legs — clad in the skin-fitting black — caused quite a few young maidens to walk into nearby travellers or even stalls. All to the growing smugness of Aikerim Adal.

At the very least, Ramad seemed to be accustomed to the Emanai culture that expected him to be an eye candy for occasion or he simply enjoyed the attention himself. A stray thought sneaked into Yeva’s mind but she quickly shooed it away — she was no Domina with multiple husbands, and Erf was attracting enough attention as he was already.

“Your words are wise as always, my Domina.” Yeva made an appropriately deferential bow as their location dictated it. If Domina was coming out in full parade attire — dress, servants, and a husband — she wouldn’t appreciate one of her servants, even the daimonic healer-alchemist, addressing her in an overly familiar manner.

Aikerim flicked her silken fan and let it rest over the embroidered rune of silence on her kaftan. “Yet something tells me those are nothing more than excuses. I’ve seen your skill at administration and your estate isn’t bigger than any of my farming Manors. Which are managed, quite successfully I might add, by my farmheads. Murk and wer alike. Considering your lectures, we both know that you are more capable than any of them.”

“There is also the noo-,” Yeva paused to think of a better word, “my awareness of the estate. While it doesn’t directly interfere with my other duties, it compounds the effort required. Think of it as the difference between walking through a shaded orchard and trekking through a harsh desert. While the steps themselves might be similar, the effort to make them isn’t.”

The Domina’s gaze was sharp. “You don’t need that much effort just to listen to the whispers about what is going on in the estate.”

“No, but a part of my mind is dedicated to retaining every rumour I hear without discarding the minute details. Excessive? Yes, but that is the reason why and how I can now dish out justice swiftly and precisely within the estate. I am no Erf and I have just a fraction of the tools at his disposal. I also have other priorities at heart compared to my husband — while he ponders on what road to take, I make sure that he has a place to return to.”

Yeva had other tasks too — during the last few trips, Chirp had brought something more than Erf’s thought missives — but she didn’t wish to mention the research being made on wermage and sheyda Spark tissues even to Aikerim. Apart from the delicate nature of the topic, since wermages of Emanai saw Sparks as the inherent quality of their souls, Yeva had no results that would satisfy a Domina. The readily available materials and Erf’s technology having a general bias towards all things organic simply weren’t enough for Yeva to pick up a piece of sheyda’s flesh and distil it into some Spark enhancement pill.

Not that there hadn’t been any progress. The expanded collection of genetic samples taken from a wide variety of wermages allowed Yeva to start identifying and isolating wermage-specific genetic markers. She wouldn’t call them ‘magic genes’ as there was still an unidentified factor missing — her attempts at re-printing the sheyda’s Spark glands resulted in healthy, living, but thoroughly mundane organs — but now she was aware of what she could and couldn’t touch. Or, to be more precise, what she should only touch meticulously and methodically. The organ, limb, and body replacements, direct Spark augmentations, and sheydayan cloning were obviously out of the question, but plenty of things weren’t in the blind experiment category anymore.

Yeva had nothing in common with that wermage who once took her sight, and she wouldn’t play with the lives of her servants as if they were toys. Neither was she that naive when it came to giving greater power to the already magically powerful. But Erf had asked her to uncover as much as she could and she wouldn’t dismiss the potential gain in loyalty of her subjects if she were to give them something that few could. So Yeva started with small and subtle ‘gifts’ to the few of her wer servants — small things like healing old scars that healing magic couldn’t revert, treating the common maladies and imperfections from the general lack of gene screening among the populace, and the basic old-age rejuvenation.

Emanai wasn’t a cartoonish land of evil and misery, despite being a slave-holding society — many masters treated their slaves decently. Especially in Samat with its well-educated, expensive slaves, brought to the capital for their skills. Among that crowd, Erf was eccentric but not unique, and Yeva was certain that there would eventually be ‘extremely generous’ masters skulking around. On the prowl to snatch their future mechanics and engineers. Especially wer mechanics who could serve Erf for centuries to come even without genetic augmentations.

The vultures would come, but they would find a two-hundred-year-old wer feeling like he was fifty once again. They would find a wer mother nursing her wermage newborn.

They would fail.

While Yeva would watch the servants grow stronger and learn from their growth.

She offered no tricks or threats and she needn’t any — her title as the medicine woman was well-known among the estate and many wer were eager to try her tinctures. It was even easier with the surrogate mother — all Yeva had to do was simply mention that her husband had acquired some wermage seed and Maya was at her feet, asking for that child no matter how ‘stale it was’. It wasn’t stale nor was it a literal seed that Erf had milked from a fallen enemy, but Yeva didn’t bother correcting that assumption. It wasn’t that far off — the ‘seed’ that Yeva had given her was synthesised from the flesh of multiple wermage ‘donors’. If her current theory was correct, the ‘magic factor’ was hiding somewhere within the intracellular gradients of the female egg cells or was transferred from the mother’s Spark during the gestation. The wer weren’t bio-printers, however, so Yeva was extremely meticulous in making sure the crafted genotype was devoid of any known defects and the mother-to-be was monitored and well cared for. A month or two and Yeva would have her first answers as the child Sparks would start to quicken in the belly.

“Judging by the smile on your face, you seem to enjoy the challenge this awareness brings you,” Aikerim observed as they slowly walked through the Kosenya Manor toward the guest pavilion. “What did you call it? The No-oh?”

“A noosphere, my Domina, that is what Erf calls it,” Yeva continued the previous conversation without skipping a beat only to bashfully scratch her nose. “Well, he probably wouldn’t — what I am doing is nowhere close to the real thing. But it is enough for my purposes. Forgive me for suggesting it, but perhaps we should continue our conversation at a later time? I do not wish to cause any strife between the Houses by keeping you all to myself.”

While Aikerim’s continuous use of a silence rune kept both of them inside a bubble of privacy as they walked through the Kosenya Manor, Yeva’s now-augmented eyes could see through her veil that they weren’t passing through empty hallways either. There were servants, both low and high, and Kosenya wermages to greet and guide their procession. They weren’t rebuffed completely — both Sulla and Ramad Qasam actively acted as her intermediaries and Yeva did notice that, while acting aloof and untouchable, Aikerim was picking up on subtle cues from both her personal attendant and husband and adjusted her speed and direction accordingly. Personally, Yeva actually appreciated the effect; while it could’ve been terrifying if she was still blind, the silence felt like a tangible barrier that shielded her from the myriad of unknown and unpredictable wermages that called this Manor home. But glances were cast in their direction too and Yeva knew that sooner or later they would reach their destination. She would rather suffer the drizzle of wermages now than face the deluge of an irked Matriarch later.

Aikerim tsked. “Appearances must be kept, Yeva. Roxanna Kosenya Inayat invited both me and my ‘peculiar healer-alchemist’ so that she and I can enjoy a friendly meeting while you can discuss pointers with her personal healers. She didn’t ask for a specific day but I won’t miss the opportunity to bring you while she is still pregnant. However, I can’t appear too subservient to her with my speedy arrival either. I am neither her daughter nor I am her servant. I am her esteemed guest and the silence is more of a reminder to her than a necessity for the conversation with you.”

Nevertheless, she snapped her fan close and gestured with it at the pavilion in front of them. “We are here.”

Reeling from the sudden onslaught of noises, Yeva took her time to orient herself. The pavilion was full of people. Servants hurriedly burdened the tables with luxurious foods and drinks, kitharists and lutists played their pleasant melodies, and very few Kosenya wermages indulged in it all. All apart from one. The domineering lady stood at the entrance to the pavilion more like a loyal guard rather than a welcoming guest. Her rigid posture, black straight hair with most of it tied away into a tight albeit thick ponytail, and straight upright dog ears brought an image of Anubis into Yeva’s mind.

She wasn’t pregnant.

“Your sight is in my heart, Aikerim Adal,” The anubite woman spoke. Her speech was curt but not dismissive. A soldier’s tone. “The tales of your Manor’s growing prosperity make many Dominas green with envy.”

“Your name is on my lips, Mitra Adalet,” Aikerim replied personally, stepping forward from her entourage. “Just as many Houses dream of having a Speaker as capable as you.”

Mitra offered a nod of gratitude and stepped aside, politely welcoming them inside.

With a flourish of her pampered tail, Aikerim glided into the pavilion. She received a slew of greetings and offered a few herself, reclined on a couch that was prepared for her long in advance, and waited for her husband to take another couch behind hers while her servants and Yeva joined the background crowd. And then she looked expectantly at the Speaker of Kosenya now reclining nearby.

Mitra Adalet dragged her eyes away from Aikerim’s husband and offered the Kiymetl Domina the first cup of wine. “My mother will arrive shortly. She wished to greet you personally but her current condition does not care for customs and traditions. I am sure you know the tribulations of an expectant mother.”

Aikerim sighed while cradling her cheek. “I do. But it is often the most frustrating pregnancies that give us the brightest children. My Anaise caused me many frustrations while I was pregnant and look at her now…”

“Indeed, the reports that I’ve received from the north paint her as a very capable warrior despite her age. Have you thought about allowing her to pursue the military path? I am certain that many of our silver generals would gladly take her as their protege.”

“She is my firstborn daughter, Mitra Adalet. While she might shine as a warrior of Emanai, she still has my Manor to inherit.”

Mitra thought for a moment and nodded. “A warrior is strong once, a mother is strong forever. My only hope, then, is that your daughter would be just as fertile as she is powerful.”

A servant approached the Speaker and passed a short message. Yeva felt a shiver running down her back — the Kosenya Matriarch wanted to see her. Alone.

“It seems that my mother’s arrival will be delayed even further,” Mitra lied with a very believable, apologetic tone.

The Speaker turned around and glanced at Aikerim’s entourage. Her gaze paused on Yeva and moved on, stopping on the female wer that Aikerim tasked with carrying Yeva’s ‘healer kit’. “While discussing this meeting, my mother made it known to me that you will be bringing a healer of significant renown amongst your Manor, your House even. Forgive me for being impolite, but perhaps your healer could lend a hand? The warrior’s place is on a battlefield and the healer’s place is by their patient…”

Yeva felt her teeth clenching. Mitra Adalet was buttering Aikerim from every side possible and, judging by the twitch of her Domina’s tail, it was working. Yeva made sure to ask plenty of questions from Aikerim’s healers on the nature of wermage pregnancy before coming here precisely so she would be aware of minute differences between wermages and murks — or ‘common humans’ — that could quickly see her labelled as a charlatan or crook simply for not knowing. She also perused old tomes on Emanai medicine and histories and tales of wermage motherhood. The Kosenya Matriarch wasn’t sick. If she was, it would’ve been a very serious matter that would have this meeting cancelled outright. She might be uncomfortable with her gravid belly, but the synergy of Sparks between the mother and her unborn child made for a powerful combination.

So powerful that almost every House of Emanai could trace its origin to a single female ancestor. The one, who either subdued her neighbours with her powerful progeny or subdued them herself while being pregnant with said progeny.

Aikerim undoubtedly knew that too. Unfortunately for Yeva, the implication was too favourable for the Kiymetl Domina to call the Kosenya’s bluff. The delay in the meeting was seen as a show of respect. A sign of being treated as an equal. Meanwhile, the pregnancy sickness was nothing but a convenient excuse for the Kosenya Matriarch to avoid the potential ire of the Kiymetl. She was favouring the ‘non-inheriting daughter’ after all, and plenty of Dominas would be eager to use such an opportunity to solidify or even press their claim on the coveted Matriarch sash. Not that Aikerim needed Roxanna Inayat’s assistance in this matter, but she still hadn’t been named as the new Matriarch-to-be and the implication held weight.

Politics.

Aikerim glanced at Yeva and tapped her collarbone with her fan. “Are you willing?”

That tap reminded Yeva of the slave medallion on her neck and the discussion she had with her Domina prior to coming here. When Yeva asked Aikerim whether she should worry about her safety, Domina scoffed at the possibility — in the eyes of Emanai, Yeva was Aikerim’s property. She was a tool at Aikerim’s disposal. Not a very honourable position to be in by all accounts, but it also ensured her safety more than any law prohibiting unlawful abductions or murders. Worrying about the Matriarch taking her was akin to worrying about Aikerim stealing the couch she was sitting on.

That didn’t mean Roxanna Inayat would never do it, but she wouldn’t do it publicly.

Yeva came here knowing that her medical skills might be tested, even if up until this point she assumed that Aikerim would be somewhere close enough to… interfere if the Matriarch was too despotic in her desires. Or Ramad, maybe, or even Sulla. Meeting the Matriarch alone was…

She dispelled those thoughts before they could continue — if Yeva, the daimonic wife of Erf, couldn’t come, she wouldn’t let the Yeva, a terrified murk, go either. She would go as Yeva, the medicine woman.

Erf asked her to learn as much as she could, after all. He returned her eyesight and gave her new skills; she wouldn’t let those go to waste because she couldn’t overcome her fear.

Yeva stepped up and bowed deep. “It would be my honour, my Domina.”

The Kosenya Speaker turned to her as well, her brows furrowed. “You are?”

Yeva tilted her head. “I am the healer.” She gestured back to the wer with her baggage. “Can I bring a servant to carry my tools?”

She didn’t actually need most of the ‘kit’ that was stuffed into the large chest with multiple shelves. But healers were expected to be well prepared for any possible illness and arriving light would’ve labelled her as incompetent at best. At the same time, she used the opportunity to incorporate some advanced tech into traditional medicine. The jar of leeches, for example, held no leeches at all but external organic blood ports. Yes, they were made to look like leeches but they were slightly more useful than ordinary bloodsuckers. Then there were compartments with medicinal grubs for any occasion. Apart from strikingly visible colouring, they were identical and produced a wide variety of compounds on demand. The colour was there so that she didn’t look like a crook with a single solution to every malady. Most other compartments were filled with common scraps she took from other healers or some otherwise vividly looking garbage.

Yeva had to give it to the Speaker. When facing the unexpected, she barely twitched at all. After a moment of silence, Mitra Adalet simply glanced back at the amused Aikerim and gave her a small nod. “Rags can hide the strong armour, the gilded armour can protect the craven fool. My servant can guide you both to the quarters of my mother but only the healer may enter.”

Yeva bowed to her and stepped closer to her Domina for another bow.

“She will try to measure you,” Aikerim softly whispered to her. “She might try to use you as leverage against me. No matter. Impress her as only you can, but do not awe her. I believe you have a wiser head when it comes to such matters than Erf. Roxanna Inayat is a woman of great honour and can be a valuable ally to me, your wives, and especially to your husband. Remember that when you see her.”

“It will be done, my Domina,” Yeva whispered back.

Apart from feeling like she was slowly walking into the dragon’s den, the trip to the Matriarch’s quarters was uneventful. The murk guide brought them to an ornate door, gave Yeva a final concerned look, and timidly rapped on the door.

“Bring her in.”

Leaving the servants behind, Yeva grabbed the chest and stepped inside. Only to be immediately accosted by a dozen suspicious eyes. Wermage eyes. None of which belonged to the Matriarch herself since a heavy screen separated the doorway and the bed.

“Is this a jest?” One of the old women pointed her crooked finger at Yeva. “Does Aikerim Adal take Kosenya Matriarch for a fool!?”

Yeva put the chest down with a thud. Of course, the matriarch would have her healers beside her. And of course, every single one of them would be a wermage. She was wealthy and powerful enough not to dabble with mere alchemists at all. And if one of her healers couldn’t heal her with magic, they likely had alchemist servants of their own to mix appropriate concoctions.

“This humble healer greets you, Roxanna Kosenya Inayat. Aikerim Adal, my Domina, sends her wishes for your well-being.”

The figure behind the curtain waved her hand. “What do you say, Shireen?”

A stately matron with pearls around her pointed ears — a mark of a successful obstetrician, as it was a tradition amongst wermage families to gift a pearl for each healthy child delivered — shook her head. “I do not wish to deceive you, Matriarch — what Aikerim Adal presents to you is but a blind murk child. She wasn’t simply picked off the streets as she looks healthy behind her expensive kaftan but she lacks the flesh to be a mother.”

Yeva could offer no rebuttals there — she was likely a few hundred years younger than the second youngest healer in this room. Shireen was honest and unbiased, but she wasn’t speaking to Yeva. That honesty was for her master. Besides, Yeva had already issued her greetings and couldn’t speak until she was addressed personally.

“And yet Aikerim Adal put her name behind the child…” Matriarch mused. “More than her name — she was singing praises to her. How peculiar.”

“If you wish, I will chastise the Kiymetl Domina for you. She is too old to indulge in childish pranks.” Shireen offered.

While the old hag that ‘greeted’ Yeva simply shooed her with her oar. “Why are you still standing here? Get!”

“Move the screen,” The Matriarch suddenly spoke. “I wish to see her.”

“Matriarch?”

“What? You think that a blind murk girl can threaten me?”

“Of course not, but…”

“The Kiymetl had been full of surprises lately, Shireen. And some of them even caught me off-guard. Besides, their armour is of unquestionable quality — since Aikerim Adal is willing to gift me three hundred sets, I am willing to entertain her jest. At least for now.”

There was an obvious resemblance between Mitra Adalet and Roxanna Inayat but rather than looking like the Egyptian guardian of the graves, the Matriarch reminded Yeva of the Dobermann breed of dogs. A pregnant Dobermann at that. And she was looking at her.

Yeva wasn’t delicious and had little meat on her body.

“Tell me, child, why are you here?”

Yeva offered her a bow. “You wish to know if the words of Aikerim Adal are true.”

“Are they?”

“I do not know the words you think of, but I do not believe that my Domina would lie to you.”

“She said that you possess many skills. Is it true that the armour she is gifting to my House are of your making?”

“They weren’t made by my hand, but by the hands of Isra Enoch Haleh. I merely passed the secrets of their creation to her.”

“So she claims to be a healer and a smith!?” another healer barged in. “Is she going to claim that she is a renowned warrior next?”

“I am an alchemist, esteemed healer. I’ve been granted the knowledge of mixtures and I use it to the benefit of Aikerim Adal’s Manor. Regardless of whether I am removing the poison from ore or from flesh. Whether I mix drugs and cures or stir steel.”

“Who taught you?”

Yeva offered a bow. “My apologies, but that is one of the topics I am forbidden to discuss.”

“How convenient…”

Matriarch shushed the murmurs with a gesture and leaned closer. “You were taught the secrets of how to mix steel and cures.” She sniffed the air and grinned. “And I can smell that peculiar smell of sweets on you. I can believe that — it takes little time to teach someone the correct proportions of ingredients being mixed. No matter if they are murk, wer, or wermage. But Aikerim Adal spoke of skills that you possess. Skills aren’t knowledge, child.”

“Especially the true skills of a healer,” Shireen spoke up. “You might know how to mix a drug or two, but it takes more than a day to learn how to spot the malady and identify it correctly.”

“Skills take time to absorb into your body,” The Kosenya Matriarch kept leaning further and further forward, forcing Yeva to take a small step back despite the distance between her and the bed. Roxanna was almost leaning on the edge, ready to pounce. “Time that you simply didn’t have. How many winters have you survived so far? Twenty, at most? That is nowhere near enough to match not just one of my healers but their apprentices and even some of their servants.

“Unless you learned it all at once. And not in a single day but in a single heartbeat.”

Yeva suppressed a gasp. The Matriarch was simply guessing. There was no way she was familiar with the techniques that Erf possessed. And there was no way Yeva would reveal something this dangerous to the rest of Emanai. “My learning process was quite extensive and thorough. Thorough enough that I can tell that your heartbeat and that of your child are healthy and strong. Just as the heartbeats of everyone in this room, including the servants and the two hidden figures behind the curtain to my right. If you wish for me to diagnose someone in greater detail, I would need to touch them and draw their blood at the very least, as my skills are obviously more limited to that of a wermage.”

A couple of healers started suggesting their own ideas. Starting from repeated accusations of Aikerim playing tricks to the more insidious speculations that Yeva was relying on her heightened sense of hearing to trick others into believing her lies through some form of cold reading. Yeva didn’t bother to engage in those conversations — arguing was futile as the words of the healers held greater weight and any revelations she could offer would be seen as nothing more than an opinion of a murk child. Yeva already offered to have her skills tested, all she could do now was wait for them to present her with a patient or return to Aikerim empty-handed.

In the meantime, the Kosenya Matriarch relaxed back into her bed and lay there in contemplation. Only to frown in frustration. “Everyone, out! Your loud clucking is making it hard for me to think.”

She pointed her finger at Yeva. “You and Shireen can stay. Everyone else — out!”

When the crowd disappeared, Roxanna sighed and waved her over. “Come closer.”

Yeva obliged, leaving the safety of the open doorway behind.

“You have made your decision, Matriarch,” Shireen stated.

“Yes, I want her to diagnose me personally and I don’t need to hear the six voices telling me it is a bad idea. Yours alone is enough.”

“It is a bad idea, Matriarch.”

“I still have the Kiymetl Domina to meet and I am not going to make her wait for my arrival for half a day like she was my grandmother.” Roxanna Inayat stopped rubbing her temples and glanced at Yeva. “You will explain every action you are about to make to my healer and then will tell everything that you find. Know that my healer knows my body better than anyone — if you lie, she will know. Are you willing?”

Yeva made a bow again “I wouldn’t dare to come here otherwise. Allow me to touch your hand and your belly first and then I have a special leech-”

Shireen choked. “Have you ever treated a wermage!? Do you think she is a murk for a common leech to bite her?”

“That is why I have a special one, bred for medicinal purposes for hundreds of generations rather than simply picked from a nearby pond. Its teeth are sharp enough to puncture wermage skin and its saliva numbs the pain and then heals the wound upon removal, making the procedure swift and easy.”

“What sickness are you accusing the Matriarch of having to even suggest bloodletting?”

Yeva shook her head. “None, so far. I draw a little bit of blood to test for sicknesses of the mother as well as her child.”

“She just started speaking and I already don’t like what she is saying,” Roxanna grumbled while eyeing the wiggly living tech with wary disgust. “Just by that alone she might be a healer. All of you are the same.”

Nevertheless, she sighed and offered her hand. “I do remember your words about the complete absence of pain.”

Yeva nodded but didn’t reply, busy with the information she was getting. Absentmindedly, she pulled out a piece of paper and started writing down notes.

A cough from Shireen pulled her out of her concentration. Her patient was special and her entourage wasn’t patient enough for her to finish collecting and organising data. She would just need to juggle both at the same time. Nothing she hadn’t done before.

“Right. Let me start with the broad and important first. You and your son are both in good health-”

“You know I will have a son?” Roxanna raised her eyebrow. “What if I said that I wish to have a daughter?”

“Then I will have to disappoint you right away,” Yeva sighed. “While I wish to give you nothing but good news, some things are too hard to change. My only advice is to wait until your next Heat. There are concoctions to filter the male seed into specific genders.”

Shireen shook her head, “Sounds like something an alchemist would say. There are spells to ensure an appropriate gender.”

Yeva frowned. “If she had a spell cast on her to ensure a daughter, that spell failed.”

Roxanna nodded. “It didn’t because I wasn’t seeking a daughter this time. Anything else?”

“I can tell you about the colour of his eyes and hair but you will accuse me of copying your image. The fe- the child is preparing to be born and had already assumed the normal presentation…” Yeva paused and clarified. “He will be born head first and facing your back, the best position for the delivery.”

She let go of Roxanna’s belly, picked up the leech with a soft pop, and gently placed it back into the jar. “You were drinking wine throughout the pregnancy.”

Roxanna pulled away her gaze from the rapidly healing wound and frowned. “What of it?”

“Any wine is poison, Matriarch. While your body might be strong enough to withstand it and even enjoy the process of being poisoned, the child is both too weak and too small to do the same.”

The Matriarch narrowed her eyes. “You did say that he was healthy not that long ago.”

“I did. The child grew healthy despite the damage caused by the alcohol.”

“That means he is strong enough to survive,” Shireen harrumphed, crossing her arms. “Why are you speaking about inconsequential things?”

“Because they aren’t,” Yeva pressed. They might be wermages in front of her but this was part of her duty as a medicine woman. “While this child remained unscathed, the next one might suffer. And the damage might not be visible or even obvious. I am not talking about the child being born alive or dead. With or without arms or limbs. I am talking about a child that might be born slightly dimmer than he could be otherwise, his emotions might have greater control over his reason or he might have trouble keeping his anger reined in. The same can be said about the elevated lead content, but it is much harder to replace the pipe network of Emanai cities and remove all the lead piping than it is to avoid drinking alcohol during pregnancy. However, I would recommend staying away from the silver and lead mines if they are nearby. Both infuse the air with lead poison as they process the ore.”

“If you pamper them, they will be born weak and unprepared for the harsh realities of this world. Why prolong the inevitable if they are fated to die?”

“Let me give you an example to consider,” Yeva offered. “Since you belong to one of the Houses of War, I want you to think of a bridge that needs to be built across a river for a marching arm to pass. Would an engineer build a flimsy bridge that could barely withstand the marching feet or would they build something sturdier, capable of weathering the spring melts, so that the arms can cross it on the way back?”

“That would depend on the amount of time the arms have to cross,” Roxanna replied. “And material available.”

“Exactly. The child is a pair of engineers — one from each parent — and the bridge itself that they will make. But time is limited and can’t extend past a certain limit. Meanwhile, the mother is the world around that bridge. She is the river under it, the sky above, and the forest nearby. Often enough, the engineers know what they are doing and have a hardworking crew to build the bridge, a strong bridge that can last not just for a season but for years to come. If the weather is calm, the water still, and the forest full with strong but supple lumber, that is. If the weather is harsh, the water fierce, and the forest — thin, the work doesn’t stop but slows down. And if the work is too slow, the bridge won’t be finished in time. So the engineers make compromises. What they wanted to reinforce before is now left as is. Slow the work long enough and they only have the time to build a flimsy bridge even if the pair of engineers are the best of the best. ‘Pamper’ them with good materials and nice weather, and even a bickering pair would produce a tough bridge to the envy of all.”

“So that is your excuse when you fail? You blame the mother?”

Yeva met the gaze of the other healer. “Let me share a secret with you. My teachers and the teachers of my teachers, and their teachers, they all brought hundreds of hundreds of children each into the world. And they haven’t failed once. I wasn’t taught to blame the mother, I was taught not to fail at all. I was taught to take the weak and the frail and nurture them into strength. Either by warning and teaching in advance, guiding the mother through her pregnancy, or directly interfering if the previous two weren’t enough. And if you accuse me of lying to everyone, including my Domina, know that she has the Orb of Truth.”

Roxanna Kosenya Inayat

The servants took the healer girl away as others started to quickly dress her for the meeting with Aikerim Adal. Roxanna let them work as her thoughts were elsewhere. Focused on the single moment of weakness that she gleaned from the girl. A single gap in her armour.

A tiny flinch when Roxanna mentioned her acquiring her skills in a heartbeat.

Her healers were confused by the suggestion; the girl was surprised. Afraid, even. She was quick to cover it and appeared to deny the suggestion without drawing too much attention to it with her denial, but it only made Roxanna more confident in her assumption.

Roxanna had plenty of murks in her Manor. She had plenty of educated murks. And plenty of young female murks. That healer girl wasn’t a girl, despite having a youthful body. Too much knowledge. Too much patience. By the end of their conversation, Roxanna subtly made it known to her that she could facilitate her getting freedom but the girl brushed her offer aside.

There was magic that could allow someone to learn any skill in a heartbeat. And it would feel like it wasn’t a heartbeat at all for that student. Time magic. Divine magic. With it, even a murk could last centuries without ageing a single day. Even a murk could master a craft that took centuries to master. And it would feel like centuries to that murk and like a heartbeat to everyone else.

The assumption was outrageous for almost anyone but not for the Manor of Aikerim Adal. The arrival of the Sky Castle, the worrisome reports of a potential Divine trailing Anaise Hilal. The Divines were no longer merely watching that Manor, they were getting directly involved with it.

More discoveries and even more surprises. Why would the Divines enlighten a murk? Was it a way to limit her influence? Was the other ‘daimon of Kiymetl’ something similar to her as well? Roxanna couldn’t see why not — there were old writings within Kosenya archives mentioning that some daimonas were time-enlightened by their Divine benefactors. They would possess the knowledge that they couldn’t have, acted older than their age, and often had Fate on their side.

And Aikerim had two. Were they the dowry of a Divine suitor who fancied her daughter? The very same that possibly followed her north?

What did that mean for other Pillars if one of them was favoured so much? Roxanna sighed as she felt another burden weighing her shoulders down as her thoughts turned to Roshanak Gulnaz, the bold Kamshad Matriarch. “What have you gotten yourself into, dear cousin of mine?”

Feeling the kaftan drape around her body, she searched the room. “Reza.”

“My Matriarch,” her attendant bowed nearby.

“Send the messenger to Mitra, I will be joining the pavilion shortly.”

“It will be done.”

“…And get me a scribe for a missive to Uureg — I grow tired of my current hunting lodge and I wish to move it somewhere else.”

“Certainly. Do you have a particular place in mind? A particular animal you wish to hunt?”

Roxanna paused for a moment and nodded to herself. “Away from hills and mountains. There are too many mines in the vicinity — they assault my hearing with their clanking sounds and scare the game away.”