Enchanter (44 page)

Azhure grunted as another contraction twisted her body, and Axis winced as he heard the baby wail in fear.

Axis stroked Azhure's belly again. Somehow, Caelum could feel it and the touch of his father's hand reassured him.

Caelum, you must not fight what is happening. You are being born and your mother struggles for you. Go where she tells you. Trust.

Trust. Caelum's thoughts picked up that word and kept repeating it. Trust.

"Trust," Azhure whispered and groped for Axis' hand, then cried out again as another contraction seized her.

Rivkah rubbed the woman's leg. "He conies, Azhure. Now is the time to start to push with your pains. Now!"

The baby was silent now, and Axis grabbed both of Azhure's hands in his own. Surely, he thought frantically, there must be a better way than this! His ring could show him no Songs to relieve Azhure's suffering and now, as Azhure hung on to his hands as if her life depended on it, Axis remembered the times that men in the Axe-Wielders had appeared haggard-faced at his door, asking for some days off to arrange both the funeral of a wife who died in childbed and the futures of their motherless children.

No, he thought, don't let Azhure die now, not like this.

"Again," Rivkah grunted, "push," and Azhure's body again twisted next to his.

Axis heard MorningStar say something, but it sounded as if she were a thousand leagues away. All he could see was
Azhure's face below his, her smoky eyes opening wide in pain and astonishment as she felt the baby move within and through her.

"Push!" Rivkah's voice commanded from somewhere. Axis pulled Azhure as close to his own body as he dared. "Azhure," he whispered, "stay with me. Stay with me. Do not leave me. What would I do without you? Stay with me."

Rivkah looked at her son, then glanced down again. "His head comes. Your son is almost born. Two more contractions, three at the most, and you will have your son in your arms."

"Hear her, Azhure. You have almost finished. Your struggle is almost done."

If possible, Axis held Azhure even tighter.

Azhure struggled once, twice, then gave a great gasp of relief. "Rivkah?" she asked feebly, scrabbling to sit up. Axis slipped an arm about her and lifted her, supporting her against his chest. He peered as anxiously as Azhure did.

A ray of light, the first of the day, glittered across the chamber and struck Azhure's face. She blinked in its radiance.

Rivkah wiped the baby's face with a towel, clearing his mouth and nose, then, smiling broadly, hoisted the baby onto Azhure's belly. Still attached to his mother by his umbilical cord, the baby squirmed weakly, his eyes blinking open, his tiny mouth in a round "O" of astonishment.

"Look what a beautiful son we have made," Axis whispered. "Thank you, Azhure, for this baby." He turned and kissed her gently on the forehead, and then on the cheek.

"I enjoyed the making more than the birthing," Azhure replied, but she smiled and her eyes were soft as she gazed at her son wriggling gently on her body. "He's so tiny."

Rivkah bound and cut the cord, then gently pulled MorningStar back from the bed. "Give them these few minutes together, MorningStar," she whispered.

"You will see your great-grandson soon enough."

Azhure lifted the baby to her breast, and now she laughed delightedly as the baby began to suckle.

"Do you still think she is WolfStar?" whispered Rivkah.

MorningStar was silent for a time, watching Axis and Azhure absorbed in their new son. "She is not what she seems," she said finally.

Later Axis sat on the bed cradling the baby as Azhure, tired but determined not to slip into sleep yet, watched proudly. He had held Caelum and sung to him as Rivkah and MorningStar washed and attended to Azhure. Now Azhure lay clean and comfortable, although desperately tired, and StarDrifter had finally been allowed in.

"You must stay awake for this," Rivkah whispered. "It is rare, rare indeed, that three generations of Icarii Enchanters get to welcome a fourth generation into their family."

StarDrifter was entranced by the baby and, after asking Axis and Azhure for permission, took the baby into his own arms, rocking him gently and singing to him. The baby was still awake, and stared at StarDrifter curiously.

"Icarii babes can focus and see within only a few minutes of birth, Azhure.

He will recognise and remember faces from this point on," said Rivkah.

StarDrifter smiled at the baby, then raised his head and smiled at Azhure.

"He is a wonder," he said softly and turned his eyes back to the baby again.

"Who would think that he is half human! His SunSoar blood sings so strongly."

Axis' and MorningStar's eyes met and caught.

"Just like EvenSong's," Rivkah said over-brightly. "Don't you remember, MorningStar, when EvenSong was born? StarDrifter said exactly the same thing then."

But everyone save Azhure knew exactly what had crossed MorningStar's mind as StarDrifter spoke. Of course the baby's SunSoar blood would be strong if Azhure were WolfStar.

StarDrifter spoke into the silence. "A name, Axis. What name will you give him?"

Axis smiled at Azhure. "Azhure has named him."

Both StarDrifter and his mother looked startled.

"Caelum," Azhure said. "We will call him Caelum."

"Impossible!" MorningStar cried. "He needs a Star name! He is an Icarii Enchanter."

"/ am an Icarii Enchanter and I do not have a Star name," Axis said. "Azhure wants to call him Caelum, and I think it is a fine name. And suitable, if you think about it. The world is changing, MorningStar, and we cannot linger among the traditions of the past. Welcome Caelum into the House of SunSoar."

MorningStar dropped her eyes and her objections, although all could see by the stiffness of her shoulders that she was still displeased. She bent over the baby in StarDrifter s arms and kissed him gently on the forehead. "Welcome, Caelum, into the House of SunSoar. I am MorningStar, your great-grandmother.

Sing well and fly high, and may your father win you Tencendor to grow in."

Now StarDrifter leaned down and kissed the baby softly. "Welcome, Caelum, into the House of SunSoar. I am Star-Drifter, your grandfather. Sing well and fly high, and may you always hear the beat of the Star Dance." He handed the baby to Rivkah.

She kissed the baby on his other cheek. "Welcome, Caelum, into this world of strife. I am Rivkah, your grandmother, mother to your father. Never forget that through my blood you also carry the hopes and heritage of a people who will never sing well or fly high, but who can love and cherish the better because of it."

She handed the baby to his father, then stood straight and stared defiantly at MorningStar and StarDrifter.

"Welcome, Caelum Azhurson SunSoar," Axis said softly. "I am your father, Axis Rivkahson SunSoar, and know that I love you well. Remember your grandmother's words, and never forget your human heritage or your human compassion. Both will be more important to you than your Icarii enchantments."

He handed the baby to Azhure.

"Welcome to my heart, Caelum Azhurson SunSoar," Azhure said, "for you already know how much I love you. Never forget that you were born amid the death of Yuletide night and that you took your first breath as the sun crested the horizon. You are truly a child of the sun, Caelum. Live long and bright."

There was a stunned silence in the room as Azhure's words sank in.

Everyone had forgotten she had laboured through the Yuletide night and given birth as the sun rose the next morning. StarDrifter muttered to himself. How could he have forgotten Yuletide? Had the rites gone as planned at the Earth Tree Grove? This was the first time he'd missed the Yuletide rites since he had been fourteen and old enough for the long and difficult flight to the Avarinheim.

He had sent the larger number of Icarii Enchanters back to the Avarinheim two weeks previously in readiness for the rites, but had then completely forgotten them himself. Well, perhaps Azhure had supplied them with a rite which achieved exactly the same thing. Both th£ child and the sun had been reborn at exactly the same moment. What did that mean? Was Caelum a child of the gods?

"Behold the child," Axis whispered, stroking Azhure's hair from her forehead.

"Caelum was conceived at Beltide and born at Yuletide," he paused again and kissed the crown of Azhure s head gently, "of the most remarkable mother."

Watching Azhure smile at Axis, StarDrifter finally realised how hard it would be to steal her from Axis.

"But your first daughter is mine, Azhure," he whispered, only to himself, "for surely she will be as remarkable as her mother."

Yet would the conquest of the daughter ever compensate for failing to achieve the mother?

The NurseryFaraday had managed to keep the third week of Snow-month virtually free of court engagements - easy enough to do when the social life of court and city quieted under the oppressing certainty of war in the north. Most citizens had a husband or brother or son at the front, and all were well aware of what winter heralded. Yuletide was not celebrated or marked in any way in Achar, but Faraday and Yr had their own small celebration in the Queen's apartments. The two women had drawn very close, leaning on each other for company and for emotional support. Both felt trapped in Carlon, both were trapped within the Prophecy. Yr now spent most of her time with Faraday, even to the point of sharing her bed at night. It was a large bed, almost four paces across, and two bodies could get lost quite easily in it, but neither Faraday or Yr ever seemed to lose each other. In circumstances that sometimes seemed as hopeless as Faraday found hers, she took what comfort was offered, and Yr offered the girl a virtually bottomless well of comfort.

Faraday took a sip of water from a pewter goblet, thinking of the royal chalice. Borneheld had never used it, stating loudly to all who would hear that such a cup was too gaudy for a man of steel. His actions firmed Faraday's suspicions about Priam's murder into near certainty. And when Borne-held had given the chalice to Jayme and Moryson for safekeeping, he announced to her who his accomplices were. The poisoned chalice was too subtle for Borneheld. It must have been suggested, planned and ensorcelled by someone else.

Ensorcelled. That the chalice had been ensorcelled was beyond doubt. But by whom? How"?

Faraday shook her head slighdy, and put the goblet down. "Yr? Can you keep Timozel away for the rest of this afternoon? I want to step the paths of the Sacred Grove again."

Yr nodded. "I will tell him that you sleep. That you need to rest before the New Year celebrations."

Faraday removed the bowl of enchanted wood from the chest where she had secreted it. "Yr, do you know why Timozel has changed? Why he has turned from a loving, cheerful youth into the dark and brooding man he is today?"

"No, sweet girl. I have thought long and hard on the matter. Perhaps he has a canker in his soul that eats away at his peace of mind." She shrugged. "I do not know what it is."

"I heard him speak of visions to Borneheld, Yr. Has he never spoken of them to you?"

"No." Visions? From who? "And he's never shared them with you?"

"No." Faraday sighed and began to prepare the bowl for her ritual embracement of the Mother's power. "We are not as close as once we were. He prefers to serve Borneheld now."

Timozel was her Champion, but these days always supported Borneheld against his wife. Nevertheless, Faraday was as yet loath to break the bonds of his oath of Championship to her. Perhaps Timozel needed her help. Perhaps one day she could help him as he had sworn to help her.

But now the Mother's power and the Sacred Grove awaited, and next to them, nothing else seemed important.

The power, the Grove and the Horned Ones awaited her. Once she had greeted the Horned Ones, Faraday wandered past the Grove and into the enchanted forest. Again she delighted in watching the strange beasts cavorting through glades and trees, but this time she was anxious to reach the small hut she'd been dragged away from so precipitously before.

Responding to her wish, the forest helped her feet onto the paths to the old lady's hut.

It was as she remembered; the grove with the tiny hut in its centre, surrounded by a picket-fenced garden. Just as Faraday focused on the plants the garden contained, the glossy red door of the hut opened and the old lady issued forth, dressed again in her red cloak with the hood thrown back from her cadaverous head. Her child-like eyes glowed with vitality and humour, and she held out her age-spotted hands to Faraday.

"Welcome, Faraday, child of the trees. Welcome to my garden. Will you stay awhile?"

"Yes, I'd like to stay. Very much. Thank you, Mother."

"Oh, no, no, no," the old woman clucked, limping down the garden path and opening the green gate into her garden. "No, no, I am not the Mother. But she allows me this little plot to tend my seedlings, and I, as they, are grateful for that."

Faraday stepped through the gate, closing it behind her. "Then what am I to call you?"

"Name? Oh, you may call me Ur." She rolled the "r" so that the name stretched over a breath and became almost a melody. "Now, dear girl, do you see my garden?"

Faraday looked carefully, and after a moment saw why this garden was different to most she had seen. "Why! It's a nursery!" she exclaimed.

"Good girl! Good girl!" Ur cried, and Faraday had to steady the old woman as she tottered alarmingly on her feet.

Instead of flowers and shrubs planted in the earth, Ur's garden was filled with thousands upon thousands of tiny terracotta pots, each filled with rich, damp black earth, and each supporting a single, slender seedling.

"I tend," Ur said, her violet eyes misting, "those who have entrusted themselves to me."

Faraday sensed that there was far more to these seedlings than was apparent. "Tell me," she pleaded. "Tell me."

The old woman motioned to a garden seat, warm and inviting in the sun, and Faraday helped her over, sitting down beside her and lifting her eyes to the sky for a moment. She did not think it strange that the sun could shine so ebulliently while the stars still reeled overhead in their tens of thousands.