But that was the way of it… for their own safety, the powerless must pretend to enjoy their slavery, hiding resentment, conjuring up a false enthusiasm to conceal a weary apathy, bowing and kowtowing and practising deferential manners of speech lest they be thought uppity. The deceptions of slavery were not pleasant, but captive women did not choose their own condition…
Vaguely, Yen Olass wondered why the bed was not soaking wet. The waters broke… when? At the start, she had thought. But obviously she was wrong. Or not yet right… or…
Or the fire was… floating…
Floating gently on waves of fatigue, Yen Olass slipped off to sleep.
Elkordansk Talshnek Branador was born at dawn with a caul over his face. Yen Olass broke the sac immediately, slicing it open with the tip of one of her steel fingernails, and her hands received Branador into the world. She had opened a single shutter to provide light enough to work by.
'It's a boy,' said Yen Olass. 'Of course it is,' said Resbit.
Branador drew his first breath. Yen Olass waited for a wailing cry. But there was none. She lifted Branador onto his mother's abdomen, and saw, by the dim light, Resbit smiling in something like glory.
'Are you tired?' said Yen Olass, wondering at the enthusiasm she saw in that face.
'Not now,' said Resbit.
Yen Olass touched the silvery blue umbilical cord, and started as she felt it pulsing. Despite all their rehearsals, she was confused as to what she should do now. Tie it off straight away? Or leave it?
'Can you get me some more water?’
'The cord…’
'That can wait.’
Yen Olass fetched more water, and Resbit drank it down. Yen Olass felt her own child kick in her womb. More than once, she had been kicked awake by the strong, aggressive, lusty life now perfecting its vigour within her body.
'He looks just like Elkor,' said Resbit, scanning the face of her child.
'That's nice,' said Yen Olass, without much enthusiasm.
Yen Olass, feeling exhausted, recalled the events of that night. She had slept only for a small part of it. The rest had been spent stoking the fire, cooking a little rice for Resbit, finding a bowl big enough to use as a chamber pot when Resbit was too scared to step out into the night to void her bladder, comforting Resbit when she was in pain, massaging her back… then gently supporting Elkordansk Branador as he passed through the gate between the world of fishes and the world of men.
The afterbirth emerged into the world, looking like something from an offal shop. Yen Olass let it be. She touched the child, gently, curious to find him so warm, so slippery, so quiet.
The bed was an unholy mess, soaked with amniotic fluid which had been trapped until the caul was broken. There was also a moderate amount of blood, though not enough to scare Yen Olass, who had seen enough battlefield butchery to know a little goes a long way. However, no excrement had been pushed out along with the baby, which was hardly surprising considering that Resbit had been cleaned out by diarrhoea during the two days before her labour began.
Yen Olass made up a new bed for Resbit. By the time she was finished, the umbilical cord had stopped pulsing, and was cool and limp. Yen Olass tied it off securely in two places with lengths of string, then cut between them. Then she helped Resbit and her child move to the new bed.
'What would you like now?' said Yen Olass.
But Resbit needed nothing from her. Resbit was cradling Elkordansk in her arms, and he was feeding. For the moment, he was all she had eyes for.
While Resbit fed her son for the first time, Yen Olass decided to clean up properly.
Opening the door, Yen Olass was assaulted by Pelaki, who was overjoyed to see her. Pigs are as affectionate and as intelligent as dogs, only more so. Yen Olass scratched Pelaki behind the ears, then betrayed him by dragging him away and shutting him up in House One; she was very tired, and did not think she could cope if Resbit got traumatized by the vigorous attack of an energetic young
Pig-
The lake was pale in the early morning light; the sun was still burning away a little mist. Yen Olass threw all the soiled bedding into the lake, and washed it, then hung it up to dry on a rope spread between the trees. Then she started to fetch in more wood for House Two.
On her return from her second trip to the woodpile, she was startled by a silent apparition standing between her and the door to House Two. It was a gnarled green monster with gill slits, a massive neck, skin that was hard and almost chitinous, a knotted complexity of tendons, muscles and raised ridges at the groin. Caught out in the open, at the limits of her strength, bleary with fatigue, Yen Olass started and dropped the wood the was carrying.
'P'tosh,' said the monster. 'P'tosh, and the cat went miaow.’
Remembering, Yen Olass blushed. 'P'tosh, Hor-hor-hurulg-murg,' said Yen Olass. 'There is blood on your face. Are you hurt?' 'No, it's a…’
Yen Olass knew no Galish word for 'blush', and so invented one, 'mara-lalisk', meaning 'blood-smile'. This conveyed nothing to Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.
'There is blood on your face,' he said. 'Has there been a killing?’
Doubtless he saw her fatigue. And saw the bedding hanging up, slowly dripping water – obviously some kind of cleansing had taken place.Yen Olass wet one of her fingers and rubbed her face.
'The other side,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.
He indicated on his own face. Yen Olass scraped a little dried blood from her cheek.
'A little goes a long way,' said Yen Olass. 'This is not from a death, but from a birth.’
'How is your child, then?’
'Not mine. Mine isn't for… for sixty days or so.' 'Resbit's child, then.’
'Resbit's child is fine. Come in. I shouldn't keep you standing out here. Come in, there's smoked fish. Do you like smoked fish?’
Hor-hor-hurulg-murg hesitated, not wanting to intrude jsn a mother with her newborn, which was an offence against Melski custom, and not wanting to refuse hospitality, which was an equally serious offence.
'Let's go and pull the longlines first then,' said Yen Olass, thinking that maybe the Melski did not eat smoked fish.
The job was soon done. With fresh fish cleaned and gutted, they went into House Two. Resbit and her man- child were asleep in each other's arms. Yen Olass cooked fish, moving very slowly, for she was very tired; Hor-hor- hurulg-murg wanted to help, but custom made that impossible.
'Thank you for your hospitality,' said the Melski, when they had eaten. T must go now, I have others to meet. My people are scouting west. But I will return soon, then we will talk.’
'We will be pleased to talk with you,' said Yen Olass, too far gone to care what they might talk about.
They bowed, and parted. And Yen Olass, feeling absolutely ragged, curled up beside Resbit. And slept, like the dead.
Elsewhere, inside House One, a pig by the name of Pelaki snoozed in a comfortable glow of contentment. Between washing the bedding and fetching the firewood, Yen Olass had found time to open the door to House One and throw in the afterbirth, and this little short pig had greatly enjoyed that bit of long pig. Doubtless revenge had something to do with it.
