Chapter 7

"Orim!"

Weatherlight's healer turned on her bed of leaves and woven moss, murmuring inarticulately. "Orim!"

"All ri'. All ri'. I'm 'wake. What is it?" She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Dim light shone through the window, illuminating the small room and its simple furnishings: the bed, a small hearth, a rough table, a chair. Before her squatted one of the Cho-Arrim whose name she did not know. He touched his forehead in salute.

"Is-Meisha's time comes. You must help her now." Orim threw off the rough blanket that covered her and, without giving any thought to her nakedness, pulled on a simple shift. "Is Ta-Karnst with her?"

"Yes, but he wishes you to be there as well." He paused and added, "Cho-Manno and Is-Shada are already there."

Orim nodded, scarcely looking at him. Her mind was racing ahead. "Can you heat some water?" she asked, pushing back the door. She left, not waiting for an answer.

Orim made her way easily through the settlement. Many of the villagers' huts were grouped around the clearing in which the central fire burned. Others were tucked back within the trees, some nearer to the waters of the lagoon. A few, indeed, were built out over the lagoon itself, supported by wooden stilts, with narrow causeways connecting them to the land and each other.

The hut Is-Meisha shared with her mate was one of these. It took Orim only a few minutes to traverse the causeways to reach it. By the entrance, a small crowd had gathered, anticipating the new addition to the tribe. Is-Shada was among them, eager to help but uncertain what to do.

"Don't fear, everyone," Is-Shada said. "Orim is here. She will know what to do."

As Orim pushed her way through, she smiled nervously at her friend. The tribesmen respectfully gave way.

Inside the dwelling, she strained to make out the identity of the people. The executioner Ta-Spon, Is-Meisha's mate, was crouched next to the bed, on which lay a recumbent figure. TaSpon rose as Orim entered. A giant of a man, almost seven feet tall, his head brushed the top of the hut. Orim made a quick bow to him, feeling more than a little intimidated. Gratefully, she saw Cho-Manno standing motionless in one corner. He caught Orim's eye and smiled reassuringly at her.

Ta-Karnst was kneeling at the other side of the bed, his hands busy kneading Is-Meisha's muscles. He glanced up at Orim.

"The youngling is coming hard."

Orim joined him, putting a hand on Is-Meisha's swollen belly. She could feel contractions running along the smooth skin, straining the exhausted muscles. She lifted Is-Meisha's shift, already damp with sweat, and glanced beneath it. "How long has she been in labor?" "Four hours."

"Why did you not call me earlier?" "There seemed no need to disturb your rest. I have birthed younglings many times before." He added, "I have seen this too. The mother strains and strains but cannot give birth. At last she may give birth, but the child is always dead, and often the mother dies as well."

Orim nodded. "I've seen it too, but it's a problem with a solution. The baby is breeched, turned in the womb. It's coming out wrong. We'll have to try to move it around inside." She looked about the hut and caught sight of the tribesman who had awoken her, bearing a large bowl.

From his place in the corner Cho-Manno stepped over to the man, placed his hands above the bowl, and murmured a word. Steam rose from the surface, and Orim plunged her hands into the hot water, almost scalding but barely tolerable.

"You too," she said to Ta-Karnst. "We don't want to cause infection."

The healer shrugged, immersing his hands. Then he knelt on one side of the struggling woman, holding her legs apart while Orim slowly forced her wet fingers inside. Is-Meisha cried out, a shudder convulsing her limbs. Ta-Spon growled something unintelligible and took a heavy step forward, but Cho-Manno put a hand on his big shoulder, restraining him.

Orim probed delicately. Only once before had she delivered a breeched baby, a number of years ago during one of Weatherlight's journeys. Now she touched the baby's tiny limbs, feeling it stir. She withdrew her hand and looked at Ta-Karnst.

"Definitely a breech. The baby is feetfirst."

"Can you suggest anything?"

"Let's try to rotate the child in the womb. But it's tricky, and it will hurt Is-Meisha."

The last phrase penetrated Ta-Spon's anxiety, and he tensed.

Cho-Manno tightened his grip on the big man's arm, saying quietly to Orim, "If you do nothing, will the child die?"

"Probably."

"And Is-Meisha?"

"Ta-Karnst is right." Orim washed her hands in the hot water, rubbing the blood and mucus off. "Often in such cases the mother dies as well."

Ta-Spon groaned, sweat dripping from his forehead. He bent over his mate, rocking back and forth in an agony of indecision. Is-Meisha shuddered as another contraction seized her, and a soft cry escaped her lips. Ta-Spon clutched her tiny hand in his enormous paw and nodded his assent to Orim.

The healer once again plunged her hand into the hot water, while Cho-Manno motioned to the big man to move back. He positioned himself behind Is-Meisha, stroking her head, murmuring a soft, slow chant. Outside the hut, the chant was taken up by the waiting crowd, filling the room. It washed away tension like a cleansing rain dragging dust from the air.

Again Ta-Karnst pushed apart the young woman's legs, and Orim reached in with her hand. She touched the tiny feet, pushing them gently back while at the same time her other hand pressed against the woman's belly, carefully manipulsting the baby's shoulder.

Another contraction came, nearly crushing her fingers, and her involuntary cry matched that of Is-Meisha. When the contraction subsided, Orim tried to will away the pain as she again worked her hands around the small body.

There! She pushed on the feet, while from the outside pressing on the upper torso of the child. For an agonizing second she met resistance, and the thought flickered through her mind that perhaps this was too much, perhaps the best thing was to remove the child in any way possible, to let it die and save Is-Meisha… but then, the fetus turned.

She withdrew her fingers with a gasp and plunged them into the bowl of water. "All right. Now let's try again, shall we, Is-Meisha? The next time there's a contraction, push. Push with all your might!"

The pregnant woman gave a scream as a fresh wave of contractions wracked her body, yet in the scream there was now a note of triumph. It was Ta-Karnst, leaning forward, eyes alert, who caught the tiny form as it emerged. He made a quick slashing motion, cutting the umbilical cord that bound baby to mother, and proudly lifted the newborn aloft.

Orim sat back, gasping for breath. Then, a second later, she realized something was wrong, very wrong. She turned to Cho-Manno. "Why isn't she crying? Why isn't she crying? What's wrong?"

Is-Meisha lay back, completely spent, her eyes closed, her mind oblivious to the fate of her child. Cho-Manno looked sadly at Orim, touching her hair gently. Orim felt the tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.

Ta-Karnst ignored both of them and showed no signs of mourning. Holding the child's body with one hand, he spread his other over the bowl in which he and Orim had washed their hands. His voice snapped out a command. Then, without hesitation, he plunged the child into the water.

Orim started forward in protest but was brought up short by the baby's squeal of outrage. The noise seemed to arouse Is-Meisha, who moaned and reached out her arms. Carefully TaKarnst wrapped the baby in a blanket and deposited her in her parent's arms. Ta-Spon, whose great hand had been pressed to his mouth during the birth, rushed forward to join his mate and baby daughter. He lay close by them, cradling them in his arms.