Herb-Wife (Lord Alchemist Duology) (62 page)

"It's
ready?" Didil was perhaps more interested in a new treatment
than applying it to this situation, but Iathor forgave him.

"Not
entirely. If I've an hour, two . . ." Belatedly,
he realized he'd be abandoning Kessa. "I must talk to my wife."
He strode out before he could be annoyed by Didil's baffled
expression.

Kessa
leaned on the couch seat again, face down, while Bynae rubbed her
lower back, pushing with enough force that Iathor would've raised an
eyebrow if he'd had time. Instead, he crouched beside them. "Kessa,
my lady wife, the bonesetter says, this early, the child may not
breathe – that he might just be too unripe. But think, what
potions change the age of a body?"

"Vigeur,"
she said immediately. Then she paused and panted her way through a
long, tense moment, with the clock's pendulum swinging far too many
times. When it eased, she said, "Blight. Paste's wearing off
already. Vigeur. Brings the body to the ideal bloom of youth, forward
or back. Fevers most, though."

"Vigor
doesn't stress the body so much. That tea Lairn Ronan made."

Behind
their screen of hair, her eyes went wide. "Earth and Rain . . ."
She shoved at him. "Get to the workroom, my lord husband!"

He
leaned in to embrace her. "I don't like leaving you, when you
might need me."

She
reached awkwardly to squeeze his shoulder. "The boy'll need you
more. I've Bynae. Leave Brague or Dayn in case we need to throw out
the bonesetter."

"Ha,"
Iathor said. "I'll return as soon as I've a brew ready."

It
was hot in the workroom, with Fervefax Stones piled in the hearth to
keep potions simmering. Iathor rolled up his robe's sleeves and went
for the jar.

Tea
leaves, smoked in this, as the traditional method.
He'd gotten
the recipe out of Lairn, modified in the past months to be more
effective, but the smoking process could take hours. Iathor spooned
out a tiny amount of powder and tasted it. Spiking, glittering notes,
deep body-dark ones, the red fire tastes it shared with Vigeur.

First,
what I know. Then I can experiment.
He set up a smoking box and
spread the tea leaves along the mesh. An Igni Stone provided fire. He
closed the box and watched it to make sure the smoke didn't escape
overmuch, then went for plain water, to see if mere boiling might
quicken the Vigor powder.

At
one point, while he mixed crushed tea leaves and powder into enough
water to be a paste, Dayn called down, "M'lord?"

"Yes?"
He looked up, heart stopping though the tone hadn't been urgent.

"M'lady
says if the bonesetter tries to make her lie on her back, she'll have
Bynae tear his throat out, for it hurts her to try."

Pain
indeed, if Kessa threatened using the dramsman's bond. "Tell
Didil you'll throw him out first, and see if he's any reason to want
her there – if you would?" He barely remembered to ask
and not order. "It's another hour, at least, till the smoking's
done, though I may have some luck with another method."

"I'll
send someone running, should the boy come."

"Thank
you." Gratitude was turbulent, layered on top of the other
fatigued emotions.

Brewing
and smoking stretched out, time as liquid and roiling as any potion.
One paste might work. Another was useless. A third, boiled with an
enhancing metal-salt, seemed as strong as Vigeur itself. The smoked
leaves were ready to be crushed and steeped, and he worked on that as
well.

He
thought of a basket, and dumped useless pain-killers out of one. He
dug out a Vigeur potion as well. It was, at least, the illusion of
progress.

The
tea, when he sipped it, tasted as honey looked – amber notes,
but no sweetness beyond the bittersweet of alchemy itself. It was
going bitter and dark with over-steeping. He hoped his instincts,
honed by decades of practice, were right . . . and
added leaves to steep longer. There was another mix to try, and
putting the powder itself into the basket seemed reasonable as well.

When
he tried the tea again, it was intensely bittersweet and smoky, but
gentler than the taste of Vigeur he took to compare. He poured it
into a jar, now vaguely concerned that the birth was taking so
long
.
Theater plays rarely had more than half a scene between a woman's
labor and the rag bundle's arrival on stage.
Perhaps I should've
asked Herbmaster Keli more questions.
Perhaps he had, and simply
couldn't remember the answers.

He
felt, therefore, proud of himself for realizing a baby mightn't drink
from a cup. He gently tucked a spoon and the lid from a glass alembic
into the basket. He was heading up when one of the servant boys, in
naught but a tunic, appeared at the door. "M'lord! Er . . .
I don't know! But you should come!"

Iathor
ran. When he got to the sitting room (passing Dayn just outside), he
paused to listen in alarmed admiration as Kessa explained, in
gutter-foul detail, exactly how Didil could "push"
something from
his
body once she'd finished putting it there.

For
whatever reason, this didn't faze the bonesetter – perhaps
because he was at the far side of the sitting room's couch from her.
Kessa herself was propped oddly upon it, one foot on the floor, one
knee splayed to the side on the couch, leaning over its arm and
clinging to Brague's tunic as he supported her. The dramsman stared
over her head, clearly pretending not to be flustered. Tania bustled
around in Iathor's bedroom. Bynae knelt before Kessa, shielding the
robe's open front from the rest of the room, with a thick stack of
towels next to her. The scent of blood-tinged
wet
and
almost-bleach filled Iathor's nose.

"Ah,
Master Kymus!" Didil said. "It's progressing well. Should
see in a few minutes, if only she'd push when I say." He didn't
make any comment about Kessa swearing like a dock-worker, even when
she hissed a few more imprecations in his direction.

"Mm."
Iathor, feeling dazed, walked over to give Brague a reassuring clasp
on the shoulder. Then he wiped the hair away from Kessa's face. She
shone with sweat. "My lady wife?"

After
some panting, her expression cleared a little. "Haven't thrown
up yet," she confided. "Can't be as bad as the cramps if
not, right?"

"Right,"
he said, reassuring himself and her. "I've brews here. I can
have Didil hold them, if you'd rather lean on me."

"I . . .
I want . . ." She hissed, voice caught in a
spasm. Then, quickly: "I want our son in your hands."

"He
shall be," Iathor said, making as firm a vow as at their
wedding.

"G-good."
She caught a whimpering whine in her teeth, and arched her neck,
straining now.

She's
been holding back, waiting for me,
Iathor realized, and knelt
behind Bynae. He sorted through his first-choice preparations, hoping
they'd all be unnecessary, the boy not as unripe as feared.

It
was longer than any theater play might present. The sounds Kessa made
wavered between stage-like keening and belly-deep groans through her
clenched jaw. And, in a
finally
that seemed far too soon,
Bynae said, "Ah! I've his head!"

Kessa
wailed, gulped in air, and pushed again. Iathor watched, both
squeamish and curious, as the child slid into Bynae's assured grasp.
Well. A boy.
His face was up, toward them, as the young woman
cradled his head in her hand. The baby seemed very wet and squashed,
red with blood perhaps, and unexpectedly
tiny
 – surely
Iathor's own fist was half again as large as that small head. Bynae
said, "Towel!" and Iathor provided it with belated speed.

Then
Bynae was passing the swaddled boy into Iathor's arms, carefully.
"Hold him like this, while the cord gives his blood back to
him," Bynae ordered.

That
left Iathor without a hand for the preparations, and not even sure,
yet, if they were needed. Though . . . weren't
children supposed to cry?

Didil
plopped down beside him. "Here, tip his head down, so the waters
drain from his mouth." The bonesetter pulled gently at the boy's
nose and swabbed out his mouth with a bit of towel. His fingers
lingered on the baby's chest. "He's not breathing yet. Which
potion first?"

"The
alembic – the glass tube. Then the jar in the corner –
the other corner, yes." Iathor shifted to tuck the boy against
his chest and steadied the tube against the boy's lips, then slightly
inside. "Pour a little, slowly."

"Pray
he doesn't breathe it in," Didil muttered.

The
potion overflowed, at first. Didil moved the tube and swabbed out the
boy's mouth again. Then he moved to put his own mouth over the
baby's, blowing air into him. The child screwed up his face and
mewled, though it seemed a thin, weak cry. Didil said, "Quickly,
now," and put the tube back. Iathor held it and the boy steady
as Didil poured more strong tea down.

The
coughing that followed was equally weak. Didil said, "I'm not
sure it's working quickly enough."

"The
Vigeur, then. Just a few drops. The fancy bottle there. Then that
paste in the saucer – even if he doesn't swallow, it may go
through the mouth a bit." Iathor thought
breathe
at the
baby, intellect and emotions divided disconcertingly. His heart was
beating at the child's ear-level; would some law of similarity keep
the boy's heart even?

At
his shoulder, Bynae said, "That's it, m'lady, that's the
bloodroot. I'll wrap it, and you should have a few minutes' rest."

Vigeur
went into the child's mouth. Then a fingertip's worth of paste. Didil
counted seconds, occasionally puffing air into the boy's mouth and
nose. A bit more Vigeur.

And,
though his body was hot and his skin flushed, the baby wailed and
didn't stop. Thin, tiny, but an extended cry of discontent that
paused for inhaling and continued easily. Iathor looked up, grinning
incoherently, to meet Didil's equally-broad smile. "You did it,
Master Kymus! A spirit's miracle!"

"Best
not forget how, then," Bynae said, urgently. "For the
next'll need the same, like as not!"

"
Next?
"
Iathor wasn't sure whether he or Kessa said the word first.

"Next,"
Bynae said firmly. She called into the other room, "Tania? Come
hold a baby, for I'll be catching this one, and m'lord'll need his
hands free."

Against
Brague's shoulder, Kessa moaned, "Earth and Rain, I'm never
brewing conception potions again!"

The
second took longer, and was larger, with dark hair already on his
head. He, too, was silent at first, but strong Vigor tea alone roused
his aggravated wail.

In
fatigue-blurred snatches of movement, Iathor somehow wound up being a
pillow as Kessa sat on the towel-padded couch. She held both
children, and Didil tied off their blood cords and cut them. Dayn
grimaced and took charge of the remaining cords and roots, to put
them in the workroom vat they'd prepared. Cool tea and fruit
appeared, enough for everyone. And, Iathor finally realized, there
was concern that the two boys weren't yet nursing, though the larger
child rooted at Kessa's breast.

Tania
said, frowning, "Mayhap her milk's not come in yet, so early as
it is. I'll go see what a babe could eat."

As
the cook left, Kessa said, wearily, "Bynae. The green bottle in
my room."

"Eh?"
Iathor said sleepily, trying to reawaken himself. "What've you
been brewing this time, my love?"

"It's . . ."
Kessa paused, turning her head. More slowly, she said, ". . . a
potion to bring milk to a woman's breasts. I'd feared Bynae might
need it, if I'd . . . not survived the cutting."

Bynae
returned then, and held the bottle so Kessa could drink about half.
Then Kessa grimaced and grumble-whimpered to herself for several
seconds. When she stopped, Iathor saw white milk leaking from her
nipples. Bynae helped position the boys, and even the smaller
firstborn began to suckle once he got the taste of it.

Letting
himself lose focus again, Iathor said, "Heir and spare both, my
love? Quite the potion."

"I
didn't
know
it'd do that," she said. "The recipe
said naught of it."

"Efficient,
though." He slid his arms under hers so he could embrace his
family entirely.

Epilogue
B

I
t
took three fivedays before Bonesetter Didil pronounced both children
sturdy enough for short carriage-trips. They were still tiny; even
the larger, second-born boy wasn't as big as most newborns. Kessa'd
not've left, save that Didil'd been showing up every day or two,
examining the children, asking annoying questions, and making notes.
When Iathor was home, the bonesetter asked him about Vigor, Vigeur,
and common effects.

It'd
made Kessa house-crazed, and she took herself, Bynae, and the boys to
Herbmaster Keli's to show them off to Nicia and Laita.

They
put a chair near the shop-counter, and sat Kessa down, feeding her
tea and flatcakes while the children were passed around.