Lady of the Star Wind (42 page)

“I can tell you what to do. You’ve seen wounded men in the field, surely?”

He held out his hands, palms up, as if baffled. “Of course, but I never learned anything beyond the basics of first aid. Officers don’t do battlefield medicine in the Sectors. The duty is left to the sergeants.”

“Stay focused on the exact task I give you and listen to my voice. You’ll do fine. I’ve talked many a new intern through their first surgery, and you’re tougher than most of them were.”

“All right.” Mark swallowed hard, but his voice rang with resolve. “We need to brief Rothan, and probably his mother as well, since the women are in charge of anything to do with giving birth. They both have to give permission.”

“I agree.” Sandy was so impatient she could barely stand still. “Now.”

She held out her hand. Mark folded his fingers over hers and walked across the garden and into the corridor leading to the birthing pavilion. Sandy drew strength from Mark’s touch, the idea that she and her man were a team, working together in this medical emergency. She’d no doubt about her ability to perform what would be a routine procedure on Throne, but it was going to be much more tricky here in the primitive conditions of Nakhtiaar.
 

A small crowd of courtiers and priests hovered outside Tia’s room. Rothan and his mother stood off to the side, conferring, but broke off their conversation as Mark and Sandy arrived.

“Tia and your son are going to die this morning unless I perform some of my own magic and save them.” Sandy launched right into the heart of the matter. No more pussyfooting around the issues, which she’d done for far too long the day before, she now realized. Despite the cold knot in her gut, Sandy refused to stand by and lose Tia.

Rothan didn’t seem surprised by her blunt pronouncement, although his face was a study in grief. He looked as if he’d aged ten years overnight. “We were just talking about how hard this labor goes for her and how she’s losing strength.” Passing his hand over his eyes, he said, “I fear for her. I think her difficulties must be because the cursed Maiskhan priest laid hands on her when we were taken before Farahna. I should have had a purification ritual performed for her once we reached home, but I never thought about it. Nor did she. So much happened.”

“And I was unaware,” Sharesi said, worrying the fringe of her blue-and-gold shawl. “We’d have performed the usual blessing at the Temple of Haatrin closer to the time the babe was due, but the Maiskhan curse brings the child disastrously early.”

Impatient to initiate preparations for surgery, worried about her patient, Sandy opened her mouth to speak. Mark forestalled her with a subtle squeeze of her hand.

“That’s what we believe as well,” he said, apparently accepting for now the superstitious explanation. “My lady has a solution, a ritual she can perform. But it must be done at once, and without a large audience in order to work.”

Princess Sharesi looked her age this morning, frail and hesitant. Even her voice sounded weak to Sandy’s ears. “I fear there’s more to this ritual than you want to share with us.” She glanced at Rothan. “Yet what other choice is there? In all my years of experience, when a woman labors this long and hard with no result, the counters are cast and the loss of mother and child is recorded. We’ve nothing more
we
can do for her or for my grandchild except to pray, and I know the entire city is engaged in private and public supplication.”

“I used the mirror,” Sandy said, hoping that might give her listeners some reassurance. “The cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck, and he’s in distress. I have to get him out soon if I’m going to save either of them.”

Rothan looked to his mother, but she tucked the loose ends of her cloak into her waistband and said nothing further. Taking Sandy’s hand in his, the king said, “I give my permission for you to do this.” He raised his voice, and the nearby courtiers and servants straightened to receive his commands. “Let all here be witness to my decree. There shall be no blame if this attempt fails and mother and child perish. Their lives are in the hands of the gods now.”

Princess Sharesi inclined her head. “As His Majesty wills it, so shall it be done. I’ll go clear the chamber of the midwives and the attendants.”

“I need all clean linens on the bed and a fresh set to drape over Tia as well. Get me two pots of boiling water. I need Mark in there to assist.” She laid her hand on Rothan’s arm. Speaking for his ears alone, she said, “Let me prepare Tia, and then you can come and stand by her head, hold her hand. I think you should be there.”

He raised his eyebrows, his expression one of confusion. “The husband isn’t in the room during birth, according to our custom.”

“Well, he is where I come from.” Sandy was unyielding. “I think she’d want you there, don’t you?”

He swallowed hard. “Your words carry force. Tia is a warrior in this battle, and I’ll be her shieldmate, stand by her side for whatever comfort I can provide.”

“Good.” Sandy walked into the pavilion after the princess.
 

In a moment, all the many women who’d been gathered inside were streaming out, carrying damp and bloody linens, bowls, and other items. Several of the women were crying, and Sandy stared after them for a moment, glad to clear grief and defeatism from the room. Positive attitude was important in emergencies, which this situation had become.
 

“You can come in now,” Sandy said to Mark, lingering on the threshold.
 

They both washed their hands in the hot water brought by the servants, using a cleansing solution from her supplies. She took Tia’s pulse and then listened to her heart, shaking her head as she did so. “Come on, come on, where are the things I asked for? She’s sinking fast. I wish I could give her some intravenous fluids, but there’s no more time.”
 

Clean linens were brought, and Rothan held his semiconscious wife while Sandy, Mark, and Sharesi remade the bed with fresh bedding. Tia’s moans during each fresh contraction were heart-rending. “Lay her in the middle, right here.” Sandy indicated the spot to Rothan. “Mark, help me rig the sheet to cover her and obscure the operating field.” A bit clumsily, he followed her instructions, getting the desired arrangement in place a moment later.
 

The king laid his wife on the bed gently. “What next?” he asked Sandy.

“I want you to stand there, by her head, and hold her hand for me. I’m going to put her un—to sleep for a few moments.”

Jaw clenched, Rothan seemed at a loss for words. He took one of Tia’s slender hands and leaned over.

She opened her eyes at his touch and tried to smile at him. “I’m sorry, my love.” Her voice was a whisper.

“Sorry for what, sweetling?” The king’s tender voice nearly brought fresh tears to Sandy’s eyes, but she gave herself a mental shake. No time for sentiment if she was going to save Tia’s life.

“I can’t give life to our child. I try and try, but I can’t—”

“Hush, you’re doing fine.” He brushed her damp hair off her forehead. “I’m in awe of your strength. Sandy’s going to help you now. The Mirror of the Mother showed her what to do.”

“Tia, listen to me, okay?” Sandy hated to interrupt the tender scene, but time was of the essence. She kept her tone brisk, the way she handled medical situations. “In a moment, you’re going to feel a tiny prick on your arm, and then you’ll sleep for a short time. When you wake up, I’ll be handing you a healthy son.”

“Do whatever you can for the child.” The queen closed her eyes, plainly a woman at the end of her endurance. Rothan took a damp cloth and wiped her face, kissing her cheek.

“I’ve never seen you quite like this,” Mark whispered to Sandy.

“Well, I’m a doctor, what did you expect? Did you keep your hands sterile?”

“Yes.” He held them out for her inspection, but she ran the tiny sterilizer from her bag over them anyway, then over the exposed portion of Tia’s abdomen. She’d already redone her own hands, in the absence of surgical gloves. “You have to stand here.” Sandy indicated where she wanted him to be. “When I’ve made the incision, you’ll have to hold these force clamps here and here, pushing aside the uterine walls so I can get in for the baby. Anything gushes blood, you clamp it off with the cauterizing beam. Got it?”

“No, but once you’ve begun operating, I’ll manage.” He got a secure grip on the two tiny devices and rolled his shoulders. His expression was grim, as if he were going into battle.

Which he was, of a sort. “Good.” Sandy met Rothan’s gaze over the tented linen sheet. “I have to tell you, there’ll be blood, lots of it, but she isn’t going to die if I can help it. No matter what happens, I’ll ensure she suffers no pain.”

Rothan nodded, muscle in his jaw twitching. “We’re in your hands, Lady, and grateful to have you here.”

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, making sure her patient was unconscious, Sandy picked up the laser scalpel. “Here we go.”

Her incision was straight, clean, fast, the way she’d done it a thousand times in the hospital environment. Mark moved in with the medical device to close off the bleeding as he’d been instructed, the need becoming obvious as soon as Sandy was done with her scalpel. Trusting him to carry out his assignment, Sandy lifted the small, unmoving baby free of his mother’s womb, holding him in one hand and unlooping the umbilical cord with the other.
 

“Tie off the cord so I can cut it,” she said.

“With what?” Somewhat wild-eyed, Mark stared at the items from her medical bag set out on a small table at the bedside.

Someone reached across the sheets to place a strand of catgut in his palm. With considerable annoyance, Sandy realized that despite her orders a young woman had entered the room while her attention was on the incision. Mark flicked off the cauterizer wand, set the instrument on the sheets, and tied a neat, fast knot in the cord. Sandy cut it then and took the baby boy a step or two away.

The child was blue, limp, silent.

“I can do this task, give me the child,” the newcomer said, reaching for the baby. “You attend to the mother, else she dies.”

Hoping the woman had an acceptable level of competence since she needed to concentrate on Tia right now, Sandy handed her the baby. Wrapping him in a blanket of soft cotton, the attendant held him by the heels and swatted him on the bottom. No reaction. She did it once again, and the baby startled, spread his tiny arms, hands in fists, and screamed, crying lustily.

Registering the strong cry with satisfaction, Sandy was hard at work, neatly closing the small incision in Tia’s abdomen with another implement from her emergency kit, applying healing compounds from her Outlier medical bag. She’d removed the placenta and placed it in an urn by the table, having been made aware the day before that this was the local custom.
 

“She lies so still,” Rothan said, voice despairing. “I can’t rejoice for the birth of my son if I lose my wife this day.”

“It’s the anesthesia, the sleep drug I gave her. Not a problem,” Sandy answered, summoning her best bedside manner to give reassurance. “She’ll come out of it in a moment, which is why I have to work so fast. There, see? She moved.”

Sandy finished her procedures as Tia stirred, attempting to sit. Rothan pressed her onto the pillows.

 
“My baby! Where’s my baby?”

“Here, Your Majesties.” The young woman, who’d silently been holding the crying infant, stepped forward and placed the screaming boy into Tia’s arms. Rothan shifted to help support his wife as the baby stopped crying and began rooting for his mother’s breast.

“Your son will be much blessed,” said the nurse. She made a sign in the air over the baby and the queen, which glowed green for a heartbeat before winking out. “He will live long. His reign shall be one of peace and plenty. You did well, Lady of the Star Wind,” she said with a sly grin and a wink over her shoulder as she walked to the doorway, passing Princess Sharesi.

“Who is that woman?” the princess demanded, turning to stare.

“One who takes an interest in these events,” the nurse said with a merry laugh as the drapes fell shut behind her.
 

Sandy thought the laugh and the voice were familiar. Running into the hall, where knots of birthing women and courtiers waited, she glanced in both directions as the crowd stared open-mouthed at her. “Where is she?”
 

“Who, my lady?” asked an official.

“The nurse, the woman who just left us.”

“There was no one.” Several in the gathering exchanged puzzled glances. “All the birthing nurses and the maids are waiting over there, as ordered. No one has gone in or out of the room except for Princess Sharesi a few moments ago.”

“Tell us, how fares it with the queen?” asked Sallea, standing with Khefer.

“She’s fine, a healthy boy,” Sandy answered a bit absently. Her nostrils were full of the scent of the purple river lily, which didn’t grow within hundreds of miles of this mountain plateau.

She re-entered the birthing pavilion.

Mark tilted his head in a silent question.

“The courtiers and servants all claim no one came into the hall. Do you think she might have been Ha—”

“No names!” ordered Princess Sharesi, cutting Sandy’s question off with an emphatic slice of her hand. “Speak no names of power! Always you’re so reckless on this score. Leave it as She said—the boy will be blessed. He’s blessed already indeed.”