Asunder

“Look,” someone muttered, “the nosoul is here.”

Shock spiraled though me, shame not far behind. I wasn’t a nosoul. I wasn’t.

Few people used the word “nosoul” anymore, so what had changed? Perhaps it was this birth: Lidea had gotten pregnant after Templedark, and everyone was nervous.

Still, I kept my face down as I walked, as though I could hide from the words.

“She’ll curse Lidea,” and “She’s already cursed everyone. Her and Menehem. They planned Templedark,” and “Dossam with her. He’s no better.”

Sam’s hand tightened painfully around mine, but neither of us acknowledged the speakers. As much as I wanted to defend myself, this wasn’t the time. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. The last thing Lidea needed was for my presence to start a fight.

“Often,” Sam said, as though we hadn’t heard a bunch of people talking about me, “we can predict who’ll be born, since there aren’t a lot of possibilities. Maybe two or three. Their best friends usually attend the birthing to welcome them back.”

We found a spot by the back wall, and I said, “A lot of people lost their friends.”

Sam kept his voice soft as he turned his attention to the bed and birthing assistants gathered around.

“Yeah.”

Wend, Lidea’s partner, stood beside her, petting her hair and whispering encouragement. Nearby, someone said she was pushing now, so it wouldn’t be much longer.

I stood on my toes, but from our corner, I couldn’t see more than Wend’s head. There were too many people in front of us, half of them standing. I tugged Sam’s sleeve. “I can’t see.”

Sam eyed the rows of people, and my nice view of their shoulders. “Go to the front.” He nudged me.

“I’ll wait here.”

I hesitated—some of these people hated me—but I refused to let them stop me from seeing my friend. I squeezed Sam’s hand, then maneuvered through the crowd before I missed anything else. Right in time to see Micah, one of the birthing assistants, adjust the sheet over Lidea’s legs and—Ew. It was really going to come out of her.

Sarit sidled up next to me. “Thought you could use some company.” Protection, she meant, but I wasn’t going to complain.

“Wow.” I tried not to gape as Lidea groaned at another contraction. “That can’t feel good.”

Someone glared at me, and Sarit giggled.

Lidea grunted and—around a white-smocked birth assistant—I saw her face, lined with concentration.

Her eyes were closed as if there was nothing else in the world. Just her and the baby.

True, most people weren’t watching, but she made a lot of weird noises I’d have been embarrassed about. No one seemed to care, though.

It wasn’t long before a last push brought the baby and its cry. Everyone cheered and called out, “Welcome back!” while Micah gave the baby to Lidea, who was flushed and sweaty, but grinned happily.

Wend unbundled a small blanket and laid it across both of them.

“He’s healthy!” Micah’s shout made everyone cheer again. She put a dark green cap, embroidered with tiny ospreys and elk, on his head.

Sarit leaned toward me and muttered, “It’s a running joke that there are only five or six newborn caps in existence. Everyone just passes them back and forth.”

I giggled. “It does look suspiciously familiar.”

After a few minutes, the cheering quieted and a pair of Soul Tellers stepped forward. Sarit and I ducked away, back to Sam and Stef.

“That was amazing,” I whispered, pressing my spine against Sam’s chest, relaxing when his arms circled my waist. “And kind of gross. It must have hurt.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy to share, if you asked her.”

I couldn’t decide whether he was making a joke or not. Why would anyone want to talk about childbirth?

Maybe I’d see if the library had a book on it, instead.

Aside from Lidea’s cooing to the baby until he calmed, the room grew silent as Emil, one of the Soul Tellers, approached the bed with a small device. It was a soul-scanner, like those used around the city to restrict access to armories and other secret places.

“Baby soul-scanners?” I asked.

Stef nodded. “They’re new for the Soul Tellers, only fifty or so years old. Before that, Soul Tellers did blood tests, which were less reliable. They measured chemicals they believed the soul produced.”

I hmmed. Sam had once mentioned that certain tests hadn’t been reliable, and people would be called the wrong name until they were old enough to complain about it.

“Soul-scanners have been around much longer, of course,” Stef went on, “but they work by measuring vibrations of the soul inside the body. Newborns tend to have erratic and excited souls. It took a lot of work to get around that.”

“Huh.” Maybe they’d thought the scanner was broken when I was born, if the technology was that new. Maybe they’d tried three or four times, and with different scanners, just to make sure.

“Hold his hand still,” said Emil. “We should know in just a few minutes.” They pressed the baby’s palm against the scanner face and then tucked the blanket tighter. Being born must have been terribly shocking, and cold, but he stayed quiet, tucked against Lidea’s chest.

Everyone in the room stared at Emil, all anticipation and hope that this baby was their best friend who’d been lost the night of Templedark. The number of possibilities was staggering, but worse, underneath rode a current of fear: glances at me, muttered prayers to Janan, and objects clutched to their chest.

The last must have been things belonging to whomever they hoped would return. A box, a key, a silk fan.

Emil lowered the device and gazed around, eyes settling briefly on me. I tensed as another wave of anxiety passed through the silent room. “Is something wrong with him?” The words barely formed in my mouth, and Sam squeezed me, as if to caution.

“Who is he?”

Lidea’s expression twisted with worry. “Please just tell me.”

Emil faced her, his tone sober. “He’s a newsoul.”

8 NEWSOUL

I WASN’T ALONE.

I wasn’t the only one.

I wanted to be sick.

All eyes fell on me, and the first ones I saw were angry and accusing. Sam’s arms grew tight around me, ready to protect me from the inevitable storm. “Ana…”

Sam followed my gaze to the large man on the other side of the room, slowly standing, his glare locked on me. The man was enormous, with shoulders so wide he made Sam look small. Close-cropped brown hair made him look bald, and a few days’ worth of stubble darkened his face. His name was Merton; I’d seen him leading anti-newsoul speeches and complaints to the Council.

Anti-Ana speeches, because there was only me.

Until now.

“This is your fault.” He seemed bigger for all the rage building up beneath his words. As though anger were contagious, the room began to boil with it. “Meuric was right. Li was right. This one was only the beginning of replacements. Now Lidea has borne another.”

On the bed, Lidea stared at the infant in her arms, like she wasn’t sure what to do now. Tears trickled down