His Conquering Sword (35 page)

D
AVID COULD NOT BEAR
to go anywhere near the siege, now that he’d done his work so well. He could not bring himself to observe the fruits of his labors, since it had cost him nothing, and others—jaran soldiers, khaja civilians—so much. He condemned himself as a coward and a hypocrite. As penance, he worked triage in the hospital with Marco and Gwyn Jones. The wounded came in in a steady stream. Three times David almost fainted from the sight of blood and gaping flesh. After the third time, a numbness settled over him and he could follow Marco about, helping him hold down the screaming wounded, refilling the three leather flasks he carried—one with water, one with alcohol, and one with a jaran concoction, a blend of herbs in tea that dulled pain. At the water jars, he met Diana Brooke-Holt. Blood spattered her tunic, and she gave him a pained smile, filled her flasks, and went back out to the ranks of wounded.

Now and again David lugged some poor soul into the surgery where Cara and the best of the jaran healers worked. Jo Singh had set up several huge copper pots of water to boil, to sterilize instruments. After depositing his unconscious patient on a table, David took a break from the wounded for a while and cleaned the crude instruments and boiled them and lifted them out to dry with a set of metal tongs.

He was standing there, sweating from the steam and the heat of the coals, when Gwyn Jones and a jaran woman brought in a stretcher. A blond man lay on it, looking more dead than alive.

Cara glanced up. Her eyes widened. “Vasil! Here, Gwyn, I’m done here. Bring him to me.”

The transfer was made. “He’s badly wounded,” said Gwyn. “Do you think he’ll make it?”

“You know him?” Cara’s tone was sharp.

A ghostly smile passed over Gwyn’s lips. “Not in that way, if that’s what you mean. He comes to watch the acting. He has—what should I call it?—charisma, I suppose. And he’s a handsome man.” He paused, wiping his hands down his stained trousers. David could see the jaran man’s face where he lay, unconscious, on his back on the table: a huge gash had ripped one cheek open, and his forehead was bloody and torn. His other wounds looked worse. “Or he was, at any rate. Will he live?”

“I don’t know.” She turned to examine him, and her two young jaran assistants huddled around her, aiding her, observing her.

David steeled himself and went back outside. In truth, the noise bothered him more than the blood. Some of them moaned, a reedy, grating sound. Some of them screamed as if they meant to rub their throats raw. Others lay there in stoic silence, suffering their agonies without a word. A few whispered, begging for water. Under a huge canopy lay those Marco deemed would not survive or were too badly wounded to benefit from the crude surgery available. Jaran attendants moved among them, relatives, perhaps, providing succor. David saw Diana there as well, carrying two flasks, soothing the dying with her gentle hands and voice. Oh, Goddess, he was tired. He found a corner of ground and shut his eyes. Mercifully, he slept at once.

The thunder of hooves woke him. A rider dismounted, saw David, and ran over to him. It was Tess’s adopted brother, Aleksi.

“Where is the doctor?” he demanded. He looked wild-eyed, not at all composed as he usually was.

“She’s—what’s wrong?”

“Tess. The child is coming early.”

“Oh, hell! I’ll go tell Cara. Where is Tess?”

“I took her to the doctor’s tent.”

David sprinted for the surgery tent and burst inside. “Cara!”

She did not look up, “What is it, David?”

“Aleksi just rode in,” he said in Anglais. “He says that Tess has gone into premature labor.”

Cara’s head jerked up. Blood trickled over her fingers where they rested on her patient’s hips. “Let me finish here. Jo, you’ll be in charge of equipment, Sibirin of the healers, until I can return. David, go with Aleksi.”

David ran back outside. Aleksi had already commandeered another horse. “Where is the doctor?” Aleksi snapped.

“Coming in five minutes.”

“She has to come
now!”

“I’ll come now. She’s finishing with a patient. Come on.

They rode off together, across the hospital grounds and on through into the center of camp, where Cara’s tent lay close by Tess’s. They gave their horses to Vasha and went inside. In the inner chamber, Tess lay on her left side on the examination table, breathing evenly. She looked pale but otherwise composed. Maggie stood beside her, holding her hand.

“Tess!”

She twisted her head to look behind her. “David. Where did you come from?”

“Goddess! Let we wash myself first. What happened?”

“My water broke.” The color leached from her face suddenly, and when she spoke, her voice was tiny. “Is Cara coming?”

“Yes. Let me wash. Aleksi, come with me.”

“David, I’m scared.”

“I know.” He felt a great sinking gap in his chest at her words. Her fear terrified him. “Cara will be here soon.”

“We sent Mitya and Galina to tell Bakhtiian and Charles,” said Maggie. She rubbed Tess’s hands between hers. “Katerina went to get her mother.”

David went over to the counter, where the sterilizing unit lay. “Here, Aleksi, help me move this to the outer chamber.” They lugged it out. Tess watched them go. David set it down and triggered it. “Now, do what I do. Listen, Aleksi, you’re going to have to run interference.”

“Interference?” Aleksi kept glancing back toward the inner chamber.

“I don’t know what Cara intends. I suppose it depends on how the delivery goes, but Tess is so early… You’re going to have to keep your people out of there.”

“Ah.” Having a job to do seemed to steady Aleksi’s nerves. “Dr. Hierakis will use her machines to help Tess and the baby.”

“If she has to. Charles is going to be furious.”

“Why?”

David looked up in surprise. “Well, Charles wanted Tess in Jeds. It’s dangerous…”

“I know childbirth is difficult for women, and that they die at times, and early babies usually die at once, of course, but Tess—” Aleksi’s expression pinched in, and David saw how frightened the young rider was. “The doctor doesn’t think Tess is going to die, does she?” His voice broke.

“Aleksi.” He hesitated. He didn’t know what to say.

“Is it because she isn’t in the heavens? Was she never meant to have a child down here? Oh, gods.” He lapsed into silence. David finished the sterilization procedure, and Aleksi mimicked him stiffly, jerkily. His whole body betrayed his agony.

David took in a deep breath. “Now. You go in and sit with Tess, and send Maggie out to sterilize. I’ll have to do some arranging here—”

Aleksi went in at once. Maggie emerged. “Oh, Mags, this is awful. Let me see. We’ll move some things aside, here, and get out this cloth. Oh, can you go outside and set several pots to boiling? We’ll need lots of hot water, more as a cover than anything.” Maggie nodded and hurried outside. In the inner chamber, Tess and Aleksi spoke to each other quietly. David could not make out their words.

At last,
at last,
Cara strode in. She stopped, surveyed the chamber, nodded once briskly, and then ran her hands and outer clothes through the sterilizer. She ran a damp cloth over her face and pulled a cap over her hair. “David, I’ll want you to attend and Aleksi will have to keep everyone out.” David followed her inside, and Aleksi retreated. “Well, Tess, what happened? I see. No, stay on your side. Let me attach this monitor here. Don’t move, I’m running a scan.”

David watched as Cara ran the scan down over Tess’s body. Tess faced away from them, lying quietly, working hard on breathing slowly. Cara’s hand stopped dead over Tess’s abdomen. An expression of horror passed over Cara’s face. She made a tiny sound in her throat and fiddled with her fingers on the scanner, and ran it again.

“Cara, what is it?” Tess began to crane her neck back to look.

“Don’t move!” Cara snapped. She sidestepped over to the counter, slotted the scanner into the flat modeler, and read the screen.

“Is the baby all right?”

“Fine. Listen, Tess, there’s no telling how long this will take, but I’m afraid it’ll be fast. Ah, here comes a contraction. Does it hurt?”

Tess took in seven tense breaths and let them out before she spoke. “Not much. And they’re short.”

“But damned effective. That’s often the case with premature labor. Goddess, you’re only twenty-nine weeks. Tess, if we were on Earth, I’d have few worries about saving the baby. But you realize—”

Tess shut her eyes. “Are you telling me it’s going to die?”

“The conditions—”

“It’s my fault for refusing to leave!”

“No, Tess! We’re not throwing around blame here. You seem to forget there is another person involved in this transaction: yourself. Tess.” She came over and took a tight hold on Tess’s hands. “Tess.” She bent and kissed her. David admired Cara’s calmness, her ability to bury her emotions in order to act professionally. It was what made her so effective. “There’s no guarantee that you’ll react, or when it will hit if you do, or how badly, but I want you to promise me that you’ll believe that I’ll pull you through, that you’ll trust me to do that.”

Another contraction came. David could recognize them now by the look of concentration Tess got on her face, a kind of dropping away from everyone and everything else. It faded.

Tess lay her face on Cara’s hand. Her own hands gripped tight onto Cara’s fingers. “I trust you, Cara,” she said in a whisper.

“Oh, my little girl,” murmured Cara. A single tear slid down her cheek. “Why are you so damned stubborn?”

Tess did not reply.

Voices outside. A moment later, thrusting the flap aside, Charles strode in.

“Have you washed?” Cara demanded.

He halted, turned, and went back out.

“Did Ilya come with him?” Tess asked in a small voice.

The flap stirred again, and Maggie pushed through. She raised her hands up. “Sealed and approved. What can I do, Cara?”

“Sit here with Tess while I go argue with Charles.” Cara bent and kissed Tess again, and eased her hands away. “David, come with me.”

“What are you going to argue about?” Tess asked, managing a tenuous smile.

“The Soerensen family stubbornness. I don’t want him to do anything rash.”

“Oh, gods, Cara. Don’t let him intervene now.”

“We’ll do what we have to, Tess. Don’t argue with me. David?”

In the outer chamber, Charles had thrown off his quilted coat and stood leaning over the table, keying in to a slate laid out on the flat surface.

“What are you doing?” asked Cara.

“Calling in a shuttle.”

“Charles!”

He looked up at them, and David saw how drawn, how tense, his expression was. “This is Tess, Cara.”

“This planet is interdicted, Charles. Do you intend to call a shuttle down in the middle of camp?”

“If I have to.”

“Against Tess’s express wishes?”

“If I judge that she’s incompetent to decide, yes.”

“Charles!” exclaimed David.

“I meant at this moment, under these conditions, dammit. Don’t argue with me.” He continued keying in.

“All right,” said Cara. “Let’s compromise. Call one in but keep it circling at a high enough altitude that it won’t be spotted, unless they think it’s some kind of a bird. There’s no guarantee you can even get it here before she delivers in any case. She’s already over halfway to full dilation.”

“There’s still the baby to consider. Surely this early it’ll need special care that you can’t provide. Most of your provisions were made for Tess’s care, not for this premature a child.”

“The point is moot, Charles.” Her voice cracked.

He straightened. “What do you mean?” His eyes narrowed.

Even this far from the siege, David could smell smoke on the air, the perfume of distant burning, a hint of dust tickling his nose. He sneezed.

Impatiently, Cara wiped another tear from her cheek. When she spoke, she spoke in a whisper. “No heartbeat. She went into labor because the fetus died.”

David felt sick with anger and shock. His throat tensed, choked, and he couldn’t swallow.

“Sometime in the last twenty-four hours,” Cara went on, her voice still soft, slipping into a cool, clinical mode although a third tear, and a fourth, trailed down her face. “There’s preliminary evidence that the placenta ripped away from the uterine lining, but I don’t know yet. Charles.”

He sat down. He said—nothing.

“Is Bakhtiian here?”

Still he said nothing. He covered his face with his hands and rested there, not moving.

David felt impelled to do something, anything. He walked to the entrance and peeked outside. Aleksi attended the great pots of water warming over two fires. He glanced back, saw David, and lifted a hand in acknowledgment. Already a crowd of children had gathered, and beyond them, a line of guards ringed the camp, Anatoly Sakhalin’s jahar, guarding Bakhtiian’s wife. A woman broke through the line and jogged toward them. David let the curtain fall and turned back. “Incoming,” he said. “It’s Sonia. I know she’s going to want to see Tess.”

“Here, Charles,” said Cara briskly. “Go in and pull the curtains over the countertop, and disguise the table. Let me see. David, what can I do with her? I need to start an IV, so I’ll need some excuse to get Sonia outside after she’s seen Tess.”

Charles lowered his hands. “Does Tess know? About the baby?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s got enough ahead of her as it is. I didn’t think—”

“I’ll tell her.” He rose.

“Charles! You will not!”

He was angry now. “She has a right to know
now.
Or do you think it’s better for her to go through it and then find out? That we make that decision for her?”

Cara rounded on him. “Why, Charles, this is new. That’s your usual mode of operation, isn’t it? Hoard all the vital information to yourself. Make the decisions for others.”

“You’re very protective and self-righteous all of a sudden.”

“I’ll thank you,” said David curtly, “not to argue. Don’t be stupid. Now, what do we do about Sonia? Where is Bakhtiian?”

Charles moved abruptly. He crossed the chamber and embraced Cara, and they stood together for a long moment, silent.