Assassin's Quest

Then the child was in his grasp, head in one cupped, callused hand, his other supporting the tiny, curled body, and Burrich sat down suddenly on the floor, looking as amazed as if he had never seen anything born before. The women's talk I had overheard had made me expect hours of screaming and pools of blood. But there was little blood on the babe that looked up at Burrich with calm blue eyes. The grayish cord coiling from the belly looked large and thick compared to the tiny hands and feet. All was silence save for Molly's panting.

Then, "Is he all right?" Molly demanded. Her voice shook. "Is something wrong? Why doesn't he cry?"

"She's fine," Burrich said softly. "She's fine. And as beautiful as she is, what would she have to cry about?" He was silent for a long time, a man transfixed. Finally he reluctantly set her gently aside on the blanket, turned a corner of it up to cover her. "You've a bit more work to do here, girl, before we're done," he told Molly gruffly.

But it was not long before he had Molly seated in a chair by the fire, a blanket about her to keep her from taking a chill. He hesitated a moment, then cut the cord with his belt knife before wrapping the child in a clean cloth and taking her to Molly. Molly immediately unwrapped her. While Burrich was tidying the room, Molly examined every inch of her, exclaiming over her sleek black hair, the tiny fingers and toes with their perfect nails, the delicacy of her ears. Then Burrich did the same while he held the baby and turned his back so that Molly might change into a nightgown that wasn't soaked through with sweat. He studied her with an intentness I'd never seen him give to a foal or a pup. "You're going to have Chivalry's brow," he told the babe softly. He smiled at her and touched her cheek with one finger. She turned her head toward the touch.

When Molly came back to her seat by the fire, he handed the child back to her, but crouched on the floor beside her chair as Molly put the babe to her breast. It took the baby a few tries to find and hold the nipple, but when she finally suckled, Burrich heaved such a sigh that I knew he had been holding his breath for fear she would not nurse. Molly had eyes only for the child, but I marked how Burrich lifted his hands to rub at his face and eyes, and that those hands trembled. He smiled as I had never seen him do before.

Molly lifted her gaze to him, her face like a sunrise. "Would you make me a cup of tea, please?" she softly asked him, and Burrich nodded, grinning like a simpleton.

I came out of my dream hours before dawn, not knowing at first when I passed from thoughtfulness to wakefulness. I became aware my eyes were open and I was staring at the moon. It would be impossible to describe my feelings at that time. But slowly my thoughts took shape, and I understood the previous Skill dreams I'd had of Burrich. It explained much. I'd been seeing him through Molly's eyes. He'd been there, all this time, with Molly, taking care of her. She was the friend he'd gone to help, the woman who could use a man's strength for a bit. He'd been there with her, while I had been alone. I felt a sudden rising of anger that he had not come to me and told me that she carried my child. It was quickly quenched as I suddenly realized that perhaps he'd tried. Something had brought him back to the cabin that day. I wondered again what he had thought when he'd found it abandoned. That all his worst fears for me had come true? That I'd gone feral, never to return?

But I would return. Like a door swinging open, I suddenly understood that I could do that. Nothing truly stood between Molly and me. There was no other man in her life, only our child. I grinned suddenly to myself. I would not let so small a thing as my death come between us. What was death, compared to a child's life shared? I would go to her, and explain, I'd tell her everything this time, and this time she would understand, and she'd forgive me, because there would never be any other secrets between us.

I didn't hesitate. I sat up in the darkness, picked up my bundle that I'd been using as a pillow, and set out. Downriver was so much easier than up. I had a few silvers, I'd get onto a boat somehow, and when they ran out, I'd work my passage. The Vin was a slow river, but once I was past. Turlake, the Buck River would rush me along in its strong current. I was going back. Home, to Molly and our daughter.

Come to me.

I halted. It was not Verity Skilling to me. I knew that. This came from within me, the mark left by that sudden and powerful Skilling. I was certain that if he knew why I had to go home, he'd tell me to hurry, not to worry about him, that he'd be fine. It would be all right. All I had to do was keep walking.