Lady of the Star Wind (41 page)

Mark grabbed Sandy and gave her a big hug even as he chastised her in a gruff voice. “Magic or not, promise me you won’t do anything so risky again.”

Trembling from head to toe, she forced herself to speak as she tucked the mirror into its pouch. “We had to get past them somehow.”

Shrieking filled the air, drowning out her voice before she could say more as the huge doors of the gate began to grind outward on their hinges. The sound reminded Sandy of men in agony as they’re being tortured. She hoped Mark wouldn’t have a flashback to his experience at the hands of Ekatereen’s interrogators. Jaw set, he kept a viselike grip on her hand as if she was a lifeline. Sandy tugged him forward. The immense portal began to close before she’d cleared the opening. Sprinting, she led her companion away, moving deeper into wherever it was they’d arrived.

The doors clamped together with a solid thunk. Echoes vibrated as the screaming noise died away.

In the space of a breath, the air filled with the sound of a thousand wings and melodic bird calls. Then those too faded, replaced by the whisper of a soft breeze, sweet and perfumed. A light sprang up, golden, blinding, intensifying. Sandy kept her grip on Mark’s hand, afraid she’d lose him in this incandescent display.
 

“Who arrives?” Coming from all sides, the booming voice was huge. “Who comes by this strange path? Who is to be announced to the gods?”
 

Better say something.
“Seekers, come to ask for the right to use the Mirror of the Mother as was intended,” Sandy said.

No answer from the voice, but the light intensified further. Sandy could see it now with her eyes closed. Mercifully, the glare dimmed to a more bearable level a moment later. Opening her eyes to check her location, she realized she was no longer beside the gate but standing with Mark in a vast room. Reminding her of Farahna’s throne room, back in the capital city in the real world, this celestial chamber had been created on a much grander scale, reducing the queen’s palace to nothing but a shabby imitation. A colorful tile floor was underfoot, and Sandy stood next to the first in a series of malachite columns entwined with painted, sculptured flowers, accented with gemstones and gold leaf. Impossible to see the ceiling clearly, details lost in shadows above. She thought she caught a glimpse of stars. “This place is beautiful.”

“Welcome to the Palace of Irilkon, my king and ruler of the Exalted Ones.” Haatrin walked toward them, toying with a musical instrument of some kind. She blinked, lush sable eye lashes sweeping to her cheeks. “You present a most unusual puzzle, Daughter of Queens. But we have watched, and it is now clear to us that this man is indeed your chosen and loyal consort, suitable for safeguarding the one who wields the Mirror of the Mother.”

“I’d give my life for her,” Mark said.

“In a sense, you did,” Haatrin answered. “Sacrificing all those years as a result of your love, yet fearlessly stepping up to repeat the sacrifice, even in what you thought of as a dream. We understand now much about both of you that was unknown to us. As to the mirror,” she said solemnly, “it sees above and below. It also remembers the totality of anything it has
ever
seen, Lady of the Star Wind, and can call upon those memories. But you must ask.”
 

“Ask?” Sandy said.

Haatrin laughed merrily and said no more, shaking her head.

“Sometimes a thing may be granted.” The disembodied, booming voice came for the last time.

A light shot from above, enveloping Sandy and spreading to Mark beside her. She felt as if she’d been hit by lightning, all the nerve endings in her body sparking and twitching uncontrollably. She fell to the sands, Mark falling across her as she shut her eyes against the burning glare.

All the bones in his body ached. Mark forced his eyes to open, finding himself facedown on the bed, Sandy curled next to him, moaning. Woozy, off-balance, he sat up. Smoothing her tousled hair off her face, he said her name, alarmed at how pale she looked. Shaking her by the shoulders, he called her name more insistently.

As if her eyelids had been glued shut, Sandy opened her eyes in slow motion. “We’re back here?” Struggling to sit, she stared wildly around the room in the predawn light.
 

“So you—you had the same dream I did?” he asked, putting one arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Haatrin, Throne—”

“Giant snakes, black desert, yes, I was there with you. Where’s the mirror?”

“Here.” Getting a cramp where the handle dug into his leg, he pulled it out from beneath him, disappointed to find that while the artifact was in one piece, it was coated in dust, the surface dull. “Guess we wanted this crazy idea to work so much we dreamed the whole thing.”

As he handed it to Sandy, the dust floated away in motes on the air until the flat surface gleamed in the flickering light from the oil lamp on the table next to the bed.
 

She studied it for a moment, turning the mirror over and over. “Haatrin said I had to ask the mirror, right?”

“As best I recall. My memories are a bit jumbled. But how it works here in the real world—”

“Her cryptic comment is all the guidance we’re going to get, I think. At least she was friendlier about it than old Babsuket. I wonder…” Sandy rubbed her forehead as she contemplated the mirror.

“You wonder what?”

“Maybe I have to ask the right goddess.”

“Or the warrior,” he said, nudging her in the ribs.

She gave him a smile. “As a last resort. I never paid any attention to the alignment before when I was trying to make the mirror work for me.”
 

He gazed into the mirror, catching a brief glimpse of their faces, and then the surface clouded over again. “Now what?” he said. “Was all of it real? Any of it? Did we succeed?”

“I think so.”

“Do you feel any different?” he asked.

“Not really.” She stretched. “Just sleepy. Not a restful night.”

“It’s not dawn yet. We can get a few more hours of sleep,” he said, pulling her lower on the heaped pillows and drawing the sheets up. “I just hope we don’t dream again. Being on Throne again as an untried young man was an unsettling experience, one I hope never to repeat.”

He drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened a short time later by pounding on the bedroom door. Groggy, he reached for his blaster and swung out of the bed, pausing for a moment as his feet crunched on a dusting of glittering black sand sprinkled on the floor. Hoping there weren’t going to be any more uncanny dreams in their future, he hastened to open the portal.

A disheveled Rothan stood in the hall, accompanied by a servant with a torch. Two guards stood at attention behind them.

Yawning, Mark set the safety on the weapon. “What’s wrong? Is Tia okay?”

“Is she ill?” Sandy asked from behind Mark, leaning her chin on his shoulder as she circled his waist with one arm. “Should I get my medical bag?”

“She’s gone into labor, and there’s been so much blood,” the king said. “The women are worried, and I would take it as a great personal favor if you would attend her, my lady.”

“Of course. Let me get my robe and my bag.” Sandy raced across the room to shrug into a more concealing garment and grab her supplies.

Mark joined her, hastily donning a shirt. He leaned close. “Isn’t this too soon? She’s hardly been showing at all – how many weeks along is she, do you think?”

 
Sandy frowned. “Not all women gain huge amounts of weight, you know, especially those who have nausea the entire pregnancy. Based on what Tia told me about when she believes she conceived, this would be somewhat early for her to give birth, but that’s not necessarily an emergency. The bleeding could be worrisome, but let me see what the situation is.”

“My mother felt we shouldn’t bother you,” Rothan said as the three of them hurried through the halls, the soldiers and servants trailing. “But she wasn’t there when you saved my life when we first met at the oasis. I know of your magic firsthand. If anything happens to Tia—or to my unborn child—”

Sandy patted his shoulder. “Let’s don’t get too worked up yet. I’ll do my best, I promise, if I’m even needed.”

Rothan squeezed her hand and stood aside to let her enter the birthing chambers. He took Mark by the elbow and said, “We wait outside at these moments, drink beer, and pray.”

“Happy to keep you company.” Mark breathed a silent prayer to the Lords of Space to watch over Tia and her unborn child and set himself the task of trying to keep Rothan distracted from the worst of his thoughts. Not that he knew a thing about childbirth either, but he had confidence in Sandy.

A full day and a night passed, and Tia continued to labor in the birthing pavilion. Dawn was coming again. Walking through the billowing curtains, Sandy stretched and inhaled the cool morning air before walking to where Mark sat half drowsing next to Rothan on the bench right outside the pavilion entrance.
 

Tapping him on the shoulder, she said, “I need to talk to you. Now. In the garden.”

He cleared the sleep from his eyes and staggered to his feet, peering past her. “Is the baby—?”

Glancing at the throng of courtiers, guards, and servants hovering a few feet removed from the king, she shook her head. “We can’t talk in here.”

She walked ahead of him to the edge of the gardens, checking left and right in the predawn gloom to be sure she and Mark were alone. Once they reached the small pond, Sandy paused, taking a deep breath, fighting tears, but she gave herself a mental shake. No time for sentiment if she was going to save Tia’s life.

“The baby and Tia are both in danger of dying.” She stopped, struggling for control.

Mark pulled her into his arms and held her shaking body. “I’m sorry, Sandy. I’m so sorry. What’s happening?”

She drew back but kept her hands on his forearms, as if maintaining contact with him grounded her. “The labor isn’t progressing, and Tia’s losing strength. I’m thinking there was much more blood loss yesterday than what I was told when I got here. If only I’d—” She broke off again, tears of misery swimming her eyes.

“You had no way of knowing her distress was so serious.”
 

Sandy allowed herself to relax into the hug Mark offered for a moment, resting her head on his shoulder. The backrub he gave her felt heavenly, but she couldn’t stop the chorus of worries in her head.

“What exactly is happening? What can you do to help? You’ve got medical skills that physicians on this planet haven’t even dreamed of.”

Aware Mark sought to be reassuring, she hated to disillusion him. “The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck. I don’t think it was that way during the whole time she’s been in labor. It may have happened when we tried to shift him from the breech position last night. He can’t be born the normal way.”

“How do you know? I didn’t think you brought any large scanners in your bag.”

She gestured toward her belt. “I used the mirror, and I could see as clearly as if I did have a scanner. The cord is tight around his neck.”

He frowned. “Used the mirror? How?”

“I don’t know. I wished for a scanner, for a fetal monitor, for—oh, for a modern hospital! I was frustrated and helpless. The mirror started glowing, and when I took it out of the pouch, the reflection was clearly the baby in the womb. I only caught a glimpse, scarcely long enough to diagnose the problem.”

“What can you do?”

“I have to operate. If we were on Throne, I could deliver her baby in two to four minutes, depending on whether there were complications. Minimal risk to mother and child.” She sank onto the bench. “But we’re not on Throne.”

“Can you perform the surgery here?” Mark gestured at the empty sands.

“I know how to deliver a baby surgically. I’ve done it many times at home, where I specialized in obstetrics.” She tried to give him a smile, which she knew was halfhearted. “But I need help. You’re going to have to scrub in and assist me.” She wasn’t going to leave any room for argument. As a soldier, he should be able to handle the sight of blood.
 

“But how will you do it? You don’t have what you need—how much did you bring in that medical kit of yours anyway?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Since I thought I was leaving Throne never to return, I packed a hell of a lot, including things I wouldn’t normally carry. Why do you think the damn satchel is so big and so heavy? I can dilute one of the drugs to create a mild anesthesia that won’t endanger the baby. I have a small traveling kit of laser scalpels, force clamps, cauterizers. I can do it, but I need at least one more pair of hands. We can get clean linens, boiling water…we’ll make the operating field as sterile as we can. Technical issues don’t concern me.”

“What does?”

“How these people will handle the idea of surgery. Do you think we can talk Rothan into giving permission? And fast?”

Mark rubbed his chin, clearly considering her worries. “Maybe if we tell them it’s a form of magic and we make sure he sees as little as possible of the actual procedure. Nakhtiaar medicine includes crude surgery, I know. I’ve heard Djed and the other soldiers talk about amputations for battle injuries and the like. But medicine for them is all tied up in their superstitions.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve never done anything like this, but I’ll try to help.”