The Lessons Never Learned, page 14
Each night I dreamed of things chasing me. Sometimes it was Terrelans, sometimes creatures from the Other World. Once I was even being chased by myself; an angrier version of me wanting to catch and displace me. I woke screaming so many times Hardt stopped checking on me. I think I made life in our little house quite unpleasant for the others.
Routine is the death of progress and I had fallen into quite the routine. I hated myself for it. I suppose I have my daughter to both blame for that routine, and thank for finally shifting me out of it. Believe me, there is nothing quite like giving birth to shake up the status quo.
Chapter 20
What is there to say about giving birth that hasn't already been said? It is loud, messy, and fucking painful. I would not recommend it. By all accounts, the garn have a much easier time of it, though I hear anyone within line of sight is likely to end up covered in some sort of secretion. At least I can say this: I gave birth to my first daughter with no complications… Unless you count Hardt fainting at the sight.
It took a while, though I expected that. My midwife, Coechee, a pahht woman with fur the colour of almonds striped with fire, coaxed me through the worst of it with promises of it being almost over. I have since discovered that it is standard practice to lie to women giving birth. It was exhausting, far more so than my second time. I wonder if that was because my second daughter, Sirileth, was in such a hurry to come out, to inflict her presence upon the world. It is with no hesitation that I call my second daughter a monster and half the world stands with me in that judgement. And yet I love her. With everything I have, and despite all that she has done, I love her. But we're not at that part of my tale yet.
I was utterly exhausted by that labour. It was that type of exhaustion that can push a person out of themselves and into nothingness, but I held on. Lying there, covered in sweat and barely remembering to draw breath. I could see the midwife and Tamura crowded around a small table. My daughter didn't scream. She didn't make a single sound. Despite the exhaustion, I felt a cold fear crawl inside, wrapping itself around my heart.
It's dead. Ssserakis' thoughts mirrored my own. Nothing comes from you but death.
"Shut up!" The words issued from me as a squeak. I couldn't face the possibility the horror's whispers were true, that I had so little to give my child. Nothing to give, not even life. A lump formed in my throat so tight I couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. I think I might have started crying, but it was hard to tell, my face was already slick with sweat and tears. I reached out a weary hand towards them, crowded around the little table, around my child, my daughter. At the time I didn't even know why I cared. I had never really considered the child as anything other than a nuisance, slowing me down and feeding off me, reminding me of the mistake I made with Isen. It was a parasite I was glad to be rid of. Or so I told myself. Hardening myself against the possibility that she would be something less than terran, changed by my use of Sources and my connection to the Other World. But none of that mattered anymore. Now she was here all I wanted to do was hold her. I wanted to see her face, this life I had created, protected, carried, and brought into the world.
When the midwife looked back at me, I felt my heart stop. I find it impossible to read pahht facial expressions, I didn't know what that look meant. Then Tamura turned a wild grin my way. It was as though my body had been frozen in time and suddenly it all started again. The pain and exhaustion, the anticipation, the fear and the relief… It all came flooding back in a wave and I felt myself swept out to sea.
I was crying again by the time my daughter was placed in my arms, tears of joy and released tension all in one. She had Isen's colouring and my eyes, two bright blues staring up at me from a dark face. So beautiful. So perfect.
Some women say they didn't know what love was until they had a child. I do not agree, but I will admit, I didn't understand what I would feel until I saw my daughter for the first time. My resolve cracked. My excuses felt like fragile things, weakening with every little movement the child made. A little piece of me and Isen merged together and forged into something new, unique. Something the world had never seen before, a being with infinite possibility.
Hardt stood from the chair he had found, walking over to my bed. He looked ill, but then passing out will do that to a person, and I'm fairly certain he threw up also. My bed sheets were a mess, twisted up around my legs and stained with blood, and I know full well I didn't look much better. But I didn't care right then. I turned my daughter around to face Hardt and she looked up at her uncle. I'm told children can't really see that early in their life, but Hardt would make an impressive blur, especially to a child. I handed her to Hardt then and it took a lot of willpower to do so. All I wanted to do was hold her and never let go. She was mine, and I loved her with a fierceness that went beyond words or reason.
"She's beautiful," Hardt said, his voice choked. "What's her name?"
I smiled, despite the exhaustion. "Kento. After my mother." I don't remember my mother very well, but she had brought me into the world and raised me for six years. The least I could do was carry on her name. Hardt must have said the name a dozen times as he held her. I wonder if, even then, he knew the decision I had made. I wonder if he held my daughter so long because he was trying to etch her little face into his memory.
We are all born into this world innocent. Free of greed, or anger, or grief. I wasn't free; I was drowning. I didn't want to pass that onto my daughter. I am the weapon. I broke everything I touched, corrupted it. Infected it with my rage and my sorrow. Ssserakis whispered in my ear, the truth I already knew. The longer the child stayed with me the more likely I would be to destroy the life I had created.
The midwife checked over both myself and Kento and then set about instructing me on feeding the child. Eventually she left and I braved my feet. Despite the wobble in my legs I felt lighter than I had in months. I tired quickly and retreated to a nearby chair. I think I fell asleep with Kento cradled in my arms. A perfect memory of a perfect little creature.
Chapter 21
I liken a new-born to a chubby little face connected to an arse, as everything they do concerns one or the other. Despite this, there is nothing that can bring joy to a household quite like a child. No bard's song has ever been quite so beautiful as a baby's laugh, and no monster's cry has ever been as horrifying as a baby's howl.
Of the next three days I remember little save for feeding Kento, cleaning her, rocking her to sleep, and being woken by her shrill cries, demanding and desperate all at once. You might think I'd resent her for it, for taking over my life so completely in so short a time. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel some measure of frustration, but the truth is I relished every moment spent with my daughter. Even when she woke me up, just minutes after I finally dropped off to sleep, I ached to see her face again. There is a strange addiction there, to have someone so completely dependent upon you that they cannot live without you. I'll wager the shine wears off after a while, though.
Hardt was good with the child and Kento seemed to like him, far more than she did Tamura, for a certainty. She cried whenever the crazy old man went near her. I think that hurt his feelings somewhat, though he'd never admit it. Imiko was all smiles and stupid noises, blowing whistles through her mouth and crossing her eyes. Despite that, she never once held Kento, and anytime there was work or cleaning to be done the thief vanished without a trace.
Eventually the time came. The consequences of my decision. Silva knocked at the door to our house. She didn't usually knock, but then she wasn't usually there on business. She had her notebook with her that day, the one where she kept all the favours owed to her. I opened the door to find her standing there, the sun lighting her from behind, making her hair glow like molten gold. Kento was in my arms, wriggling as she passed her morning feeding. For a moment Silva just stared at me and I stared back. There was compassion in her eyes, a true understanding of what I was doing and how much it would cost me.
You have no idea of what it will cost. Ssserakis was angry. Angry at me for the decision I made.
"I'm only going to ask you this once, Eska. Are you sure?" Silva never second guessed me, no matter my decision. And only once did she try to change my mind.
I tried to speak, to say yes, but Kento was gurgling in my arms, pawing at my dress and staring at me. The words stuck in my throat, so I just nodded once and blinked away tears.
Hardt arrived home just as I was leaving with Silva, Kento wrapped up in a swaddle and held against my chest by a sash. He grinned at me as he waved a finger in the child's face, and I returned a dead stare. I lied to him then, told him we were just going for a walk, to give Kento her first introduction to the city of her birth. I lied because I knew he would try to talk me out of my decision and I needed no help in doubting myself. Hardt loved the child; he saw her as a final link to the brother he'd lost down in the ruined Djinn city. He would have argued, fought against the decision. But in the end Kento was my daughter, the father already nine months dead; it was my decision to make. I wasn't ready to be a mother. I have never quite been ready to be a mother.
Coward! I wanted to argue with the horror but could not find the words. It can be hard to argue against the truth.
Silva could see my turmoil. I think she sought to distract me, chatting about everything and nothing all at once. She told me about the shortage of nuts after our recent stop at Hattain. Apparently the tahren are quite partial to a variety of nuts and many of Ro'shan's supplies came from Hattain, but the entire region had recently suffered from a drought and nuts were scarce. She also told me we were nearing Isha again and Ro'shan would pass over Terrelan within the month. It would mark the first full orbit since I had climbed my way up to Ro'shan. That should probably have been a cause for celebration, but I couldn't bring myself to feel happy. I didn't deserve it.
The Terrelans will be waiting for you. That child is your only protection.
I hissed at the horror to be silent and Kento waved a chubby hand at my face.
I didn't even realise where Silva was taking me until we stopped. When I looked up from the little sleeping face of my daughter, I found an entrance to one of the great arches that rose from the city and crossed in the centre of Ro'shan. I think the look of surprise on my face was what made Silva smile.
"It's a rare thing, giving up a child," she said. "My mother has asked to meet you first."
"The Rand wants to meet me?" I will admit it took a moment for it to sink in. Back then the Rand and the Djinn were little more than stories I had read in bard's tales and most of those were fraught with inconsistencies. Some depicted the Rand as monstrosities of flesh and wood and water all fused together and somehow alive despite the madness. Others painted them as sirens, beautiful maidens that caused everyone to fall in love with them. Yet others still had them as giants, almost terran in proportion, but with skin that glowed like metal left in a forge. As far as I knew back then, there was only one consistency throughout all the stories I had read or been told and that was that all Rand were female. And all Djinn were male.
"Surrogate parents have been found, Eska. They are not terran, but they will treat the child with love…"
"Not terran?" I was holding back fresh tears. My guts twisted and I thought I might vomit. I hated myself, but I knew it was the right decision. It had to be. I couldn't allow my daughter to share my fate. We are, all of us, marred by scars, plagued by the faults and insecurities laid upon us by our pasts. We are drowning in history, both good and bad, and we cannot help but drag our children down with us. But they deserve better than that, better than us. Kento was a little version of me and Isen, unmarked by my scars, unable to comprehend the flaws I would pass onto her. I am the weapon, but I would not, could not, allow her to share in my guilt.
More lies. You can't allow her to get in your way.
The horror spoke the truth, a part of it at least. I could not give up my fight any more than I could convince my enemies to let me go. I had no choice but to give my daughter up. I would only bring pain into her innocent little life, pass on the scars carved into my soul. Bring my enemies down upon her little head. Our children deserve better than us. Kento deserved better than me.
Silva shook her head. "That is as much as I can tell you. My mother wants to meet you first. If she agrees to your request, you'll leave the child with her and never see her again." I didn't realise it at the time, but Silva never referred to Kento by name, only ever as the child. I think she did it to keep distance.
I nodded, though I really wanted to do the other thing, and Silva led me inside the arch. There is a platform inside each arch that seems to move under its own power. At another time it might have fascinated me to attempt to discover how it worked, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the little girl watching me, gurgling. Blue eyes so like my own. A tear fell onto Kento's face. She started to cry. A noise that rent my heart in two. I wiped it away quickly and danced about the platform, rocking her gently until she quieted once more. Silva watched me all the while.
Ro'shan's palace lies high above the city, yet the platform took only minutes to reach the top of the arch. It slowed to a stop and there was a doorway, light streaming in through it. Silva led the way again and we walked through white halls, decorated with treasures and statues I now know as ancient and valuable beyond money. On one side there were no windows, only a large balcony that ended in a sudden drop to the streets below. From there I could see out across all Ro'shan and even see to the far edge of the floating mountain. Beyond that lay the fathomless blue of the ocean. We were nearing Isha and it was the height of summer there, blue skies and a blazing sun for much of it.
Giving up the child will kill you. Keeping it will kill her. Such a decision to make. Ssserakis' tone mocked me.
"Just… leave me alone," I said, my voice breaking on the words.
Silva stared at me with an odd frown, but she didn't ask who I was talking to.
I had a wild urge to turn back, keep Kento and flee back to Isha. I could make my way to Keshin, where I was born. Perhaps my parents and brother were still alive, maybe they even remembered me, though I had been gone for so long. I could settle down there, make a life for myself and for my daughter. Weave baskets and raise the child. It was a wild urge, and a fleeting one. I could never be happy there with so much left undone. With so many enemies left alive. All of them actually. Besides, I was sure Prena Neralis had already considered I might return to my childhood home. I knew there was nothing waiting for me there but a short thrust of cold steel. And my daughter would die with her mother. She had only once chance to live and I was taking it. I had to believe I was making the right choice. The only choice.
I had stopped to stare out of the balcony. I felt a gentle squeeze of my hand and came out of my reverie to find Silva next to me. She didn't rush me, nor ask me again if I really wanted to go through with it. She didn't say anything, just stood there next to me, holding my hand until I felt ready to move on. I don't think I've ever appreciated any friend quite so much as right then, not even Josef's support throughout our years at the academy came close to the silent company of Silva as I struggled to overcome my doubts. I don't know how long we stood there, hand in hand staring out over the city, my daughter asleep against my chest. Long enough for my resolve to strengthen. Long enough for Ssserakis to remind me of the drop below our feet. A little thrill of fear to feed the horror inside.
We moved on, Silva leading the way again, and I found the palace of Ro'shan to be quite empty. Whether that was because of its size or because the only people who stayed there were the Rand and her children, I don't know. I was far too preoccupied. For once, my curiosity was quiet, squashed by the dread apprehension that I was feeling.
Silva led me to the throne room, a large open area made of the same white bone as the rest of the palace. It was mostly empty save for a red carpet leading up to a throne that could easily have seated ten of me. There was an older man standing to one side of the throne, his hair grey and face stony, robes long and elegant and blue trimmed with gold. I did not recognise him. There were several doorways leading from the hall, each one tall enough to admit a giant. No matter which of those doorways I looked at, I saw Isen's bloody face staring back at me from the shadows. You might not think he could look so accusing given the ruin Josef had left of him, but he managed it. I turned away from the visions of Isen and found Silva watching me.
"Who is he?" I hated how weak and broken my voice sounded then.
"That is my brother, Gol. He always looks that serious. He was even worse when I was growing up. I just wanted to play, but he always made us do our work first. A real taskmaster."
"I can hear you just fine, Silva." Gol's voice suited his severe appearance; hard and rough like grinding rock, but with an oddly regal quality.
Silva leaned in close to me and spoke in a whisper. "Softer than he likes to admit though. He used to bring me and Coby sweet pastries when we were young."
Gol just watched us. He had unnerving eyes, all grey without a hint of real colour to them.
Silva gave my hand one final squeeze then let go and approached the throne, standing on the opposite side to her brother. I found myself feeling very alone in front of that empty throne, my daughter swaddled against my chest. I felt like turning around and running. I have never dealt well with being left alone. I draw strength from those around me, from my friends. Bereft of them, I am lost. Weakened. Right then, I had only the horror for company. I stood there, rooted to the spot, and waited for the Rand.
I was still waiting when a monster slithered into the hall. I recoiled when I first saw it, clutching at the child against my chest and backing up first one step then the other. One hand fell to my side, to where I kept my Kinemancy Source, but it wasn't there. I had taken to leaving it at home, hidden and safe, so the temptation to use it would be less. But now every instinct I had was telling me I needed it to protect Kento, though I doubted one Source would be enough to even hurt such a creature. It stood at maybe thrice the size of Hardt, and that was before you took into account the long tail trailing behind it, so like a garn's. The lower half of its torso, if you could call it that, was covered in a short fuzz of fur, like a pahht. It had six arms, each one always moving, twisting one way, then the other. It took a moment for me to realise that in the palm of each hand was a single eye, cat's eyes like pahht. I think what made the creature most disturbing was its head. A terran head, for the most part, though many times larger than any terran I had ever seen, with red hair like the dying embers of a fire. But that head had no eyes, just flat skin where they ought to be. The creature was disgusting and fascinating all at once, like some sort of fusion of all the people of Ovaeris.
