Rafe gave her the once over. “Can she be trusted?” He spoke in Xyian.

“I don’t know,” I answered in the same language. “But I won’t let that stop me from healing someone.”

Rafe looked at Prest.

Prest shrugged.

Rafe rolled his eyes, and let out a soft, exaggerated sigh. “You are of no help.” He turned back to Amyu. “Show us the way.”

She gave a quick nod, and moved silently away in the darkness.

We followed, quietly, as she took us on a path between the tents, careful to disturb no one. While the Heart never stops beating, it does sleep, and there were very few people about, and most were focused on their own tasks.

As we walked, I moved close to Rafe. “How is Keir?” I asked, keeping my voice as soft as I could.

Rafe smiled, his eyes twinkling under his hood. “Frustrated. Furious. But determined, Warprize. He hasn’t killed anyone.”

“Yet,” Prest added.

I sighed. “He’s not the only one.”

Rafe gave me a sympathetic look. “I’ll tell him, Warprize. Provided he doesn’t kill me for letting you do this.”

“Look.” Prest pointed.

Ahead of us lay a series of tents, alive with torches and movement. Amyu guided us to the largest one and threw open the flap. The tent was filled with light, heat, and people, both men and women. And the all too familiar smell of blood, sweat, and fear.

“Call out if you need us,” Rafe’s voice came from behind me, and I absently nodded in response. All of my attention was on the figure on a pallet in the middle of the tent.

It was a woman, a very naked, very pregnant woman, sprawled on the bedding. Her skin gleamed with sweat, and she was clearly exhausted. Her eyes were glazed, unseeing. Surrounded by the others, she was gasping, panting through her pains. Her distended belly shone in the light, looking tight enough to burst.

“How long?” I asked. It had to be hours, by the look of things.

All heads turned as I spoke, and Amyu pushed in from behind me.

“Why have you brought her here?” A woman who looked as old as Keekai stood before me, as if to bar my way. She was naked from the waist up, and sweating as well.

“She is a healer.” Amyu stood her ground, even as her voice trembled. “If there is any chance to save Eace—”

“That is not your place, child,” the woman snapped. For a moment I thought I’d be thrown out of the tent, but her features softened. “What is done is done.” She turned away, then, towards the woman on the pallet. I followed, to look between the woman’s legs. She was open, and I could see a tiny foot, trying to emerge.

“I am Reness, Eldest Thea.” The one who’d barred my path was speaking. “This is Eace’s first. I’ve tried to turn the babe, but it will not shift.” She reached out, and a man handed her a knife, its blade bright in the light. The flames from the braziers flickered on its surface, and in her eyes as she looked at me. “I have heard of your skills, you who would be a warprize.”

She held up the knife, and looked at me, her face a mask of pain. “I’ve cut babes out before, but the woman always dies.” She took a deep breath. “I would ask that you use your skills to bring her back from the dead, once the baby is born.” She turned away, and brought the knife to bear on the woman’s stomach.

One quick step, and I had my hand on the clenched fist that held the dagger, preventing it from touching the skin. I looked at Reness’s stark face, and gave her a serious grave look, even as my heart sang with happiness. “I’ve cut out babes before, and the women have lived.”

Hope flared in eyes where there’d been none. Some of the faces about us mirror’d hers. Reness stilled her hand. “You have?”

“I have.” I looked around at hopeful faces, including Amyu’s. “It is difficult and dangerous. But let me try.”

There was silence for a moment, as the theas around us considered each other.

“She is not of the Plains.” One spoke softly.

“Do not trust in this woman, Eldest Thea,” another urged. “The winds may rise up in anger.”

The woman moaned and writhed in pain. I didn’t look away from Reness, who stared at me.

Then Reness nodded her head and sheathed her dagger. “Do it.”

“Get a table in here, and get her on it,” I ordered. “I need water, cloths for the blood, and the sharpest, smallest blade you can find me. Quickly. This has gone on long enough.”

There was a flurry about us as they acted as quickly as I could ask. I concentrated on digging out one of my precious needles from my satchel, and some of the dried gut that I always kept there, trying to keep my joy off my face. My heart swelled, filled with a sense of comfort, of pure satisfaction and delight. Here was a task I could do, and do well, in a situation I’d been in many times before. A wonderful sense of being needed filled me, a sense of being wanted.

Of being home.

I schooled my face, and braided my hair up to get it out of the way as I watched the preparations.

Amyu was kneeling by my patient’s head, smoothing back her damp hair, and murmuring something in her ear. She stayed with her even as they lifted Eace onto the table. I caught the words ‘warprize’ and ‘help’. Eace’s eyes seemed more rational now, her head straining up so that she could see me over her belly.

A small knife, probably a skinning blade, was pressed into my hand. I recognized the black flint that was used in the tips of their throwing lances. Ironic that such an instrument of death could be used to save a life. Everyone else was stripping off their tunics, men and women, due to the heat. One of the men offered me a bowl and a pitcher of water, and I held out my hands for the ritual blessing, praying as the water poured over my hands and the knife. Goddess, please guide my hands.

I took my place, and watched as another contraction wracked through my patient. “Scream, Eace,” I of fered. “It will help with the pain.”

“I will not,” Eace panted, laying flat, her face white as snow, sweat pouring off her. “I am a warrior of the Plains. I will not move, I will not flinch. I will chant battle cries.”

I exchanged glances with some of the older women in the room, about to roll my eyes at that comment. But their faces were grim, and I realized that they expected the pain. They thought that was normal. I sighed, and shook my head. “I will not take a chance. Hold her down.”

Many hands reached, and Eace started to chant. “Birth of air, death of—”

Warrior that she was, the poor thing didn’t scream. She jerked under their hands at the touch of my blade, and then conveniently fainted away. I worked swiftly to take advantage of that, making my first cut carefully. Two men stood off to the side, and used cloths to keep the site as clean as possible.

Eln had developed a new technique with these births, pushing the muscles aside instead of slicing them, cutting only where absolutely necessary. I strained, working my hands in, trying to keep my cuts as small as possible.

Once through the womb, I handed the knife out, and reached in to sort out the babe, feeling for the cord, to make sure it wasn’t wrapped around—

I laughed right out loud as my fingers told me what I needed to know.

The theas looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. I just shook my head, and eased forth the babe, who popped out screaming. One of the men stood close, with a clean cloth held open for the child. I placed the crying boy in the blanket, the cord still attached.

“Heyla!” The man laughed and grinned at me. “Hear a warrior’s cries!”

The others broke out into smiles, but I just plunged my hands back inside. “Then here’s double the joy!”

I carefully pulled forth another baby, a girl, red-faced and furious, screaming at this new world. She was even louder than her brother, and she had every right to be, since it was her foot that had blocked the canal.