“How am I supposed to make Polvo de Nicotina happy?”
“Don’t look at me,” Isabel replied. “You’re the healer, Maria. Go heal her soul or something.”
“I hate you.”
“Definitely don’t say that to her. You have basically no bedside manners.”
“My dad was an Inquisitor, what kind of manners do you think I inherited?” Maria regretted the words as soon as she said them, even before seeing the pained expressions on the others’ faces. It was far too soon for evil Inquisitor jokes, for any of them. “I’ll go talk to her.”
“That’s a good start,” Isabel replied.
Maria walked over and sat in front of Ana, like she had saw Selene doing.
Ana didn’t say anything at all, and Maria start fidgeting. “Selene says I’ve to make you happy.”
“For your brother.”
“Yes, but also for me and you. She seems to think it would help both of us.”
Ana was kneeling with her hands placed on her knees. She cocked her head to the side as she considered Maria’s words. “Why would it help you?”
“I have an Ability that stops me from feeling anything. It’s supposed to help with grief. My whole family died; Rafael is all I have left.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“No, I am. I’m supposed to make you feel happy, and even without my emotions, I just make everyone down. I don’t know how to help you, Ana, I can’t heal sadness.”
“Never tell people your weaknesses, child,” she said with a small smile.
“Ugh, is everyone going to quote that woman at me? Wait, you could hear us?”
Ana nodded.
“I’m sorry for calling you Polvo de Nicotina.”
“It was very funny.”
They shared a smile as Maria realised it had been amusing. She was never usually quick with a joke, but calling Ana after Spain’s most widely used pesticide apparently was funny. Reminding a bunch of traumatised Spanish teenagers that her father had been part of an organisation that killed more Spanish people than either of the world wars Spain had started was apparently not. There was probably a lesson in there, about what it was appropriate and inappropriate to joke about, but Maria was too tired to tell.
“Is there anything you want to do?” Maria asked.
“We could pray? I was going to pray before you came over.”
Maria didn’t want to pray. Either God was turning her brother into a tree, in which case she had no desire to speak to Him, or he simply wasn’t stopping Rafael from becoming a tree, in which case she still didn’t want to talk. This wasn’t about her, though, and all she had to do was sit here with her eyes closed until Ana was done.
She could do that.
She closed her eyes and started considering Abilities and levels again. Maria had four levels, Isabel had two, Ana had three, Dolores had four. Rafael had… maybe two. Definitely the one from their birthday, but had he levelled up again in the crypt?
She had no way to find out, because he couldn’t speak. Unless she found someone with a Skill to talk to plants. If he even was a plant. Oh, she could cut him. Not badly, just a little knick to make him bleed. Maria couldn’t heal plants, only people, another of those weaknesses she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, probably, but if she could heal Rafael then that would prove he was still a person.
Tonight
Well, she hadn’t expected helping Ana to actually help her, but it already had a good result, which meant Selene was right, damn her.
They were almost ready to leave Burnham Beeches, but there was a problem. Toma was throwing a tantrum.
“No, no, absolutely not,” he said, refusing to budge an inch.
“Toma,” Selene said, an edge of warning in her tone.
He shook his head and crossed his arms. “Look, I get it. They’re teenagers. You’ve told me. They’re hurting. I understand. Lots of scary, confusing, and evil things were done to them. I don’t disagree with any of that. But you know what happened last night. And I know it was an accident. But accidents happen and I will not let my wife anywhere near them. They’re powder kegs and she’s not getting caught in their explosion. She’s pregnant.”
Selene sighed. “Then you drive the tilt wagon.”
“No,” Mihai the peacemaker, who was always willing to compromise and see reason, was suddenly a wall.
“What? Why?”
“Men drive the vardo. We have three vardo, and three men.”
Selene squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. This was one of those family or Romani traditional things. They’d always be willing to negotiate until they hit some cultural wall. Farnika was incredibly stubborn about these things, too. If there was a wall, maybe there was a way around it. “Then I’ll drive the tilt wagon.”
“You’re not Romani, Selene,” he said in that same tone of voice.
She’d avoided the first wall and hit the second.
“I’ll drive the tilt wagon,” Esmerelda said.
Toma turned to her, a scowl on his face as if he was going to forbid her. “Granny…”
Esmerelda blinked up at him. Toma was a short man, but Esmerelda was tiny. “You going to forbid me, boy?”
“No granny.”
“Good boy.”
It only took a few moments after that for them to be on the road.
After around a half or so, Esmerelda handed the reins to Selene. “You’re driving the wagon.”
“I’m not Romani,” Selene pointed out.
“You and my granddaughter are raising a child together. That makes you family, even though you’re gadje.”
“Uhh,” Selene had nothing to say, flustered. Her face felt hot, as if she was blushing.
“Besides, I won’t make it to Maidenhead without a nap, and I’ll need all my strength later. It’s going to be a hard night, I can feel it in my water.”
Esmerelda took the reins back shortly before they reached the campsite at Maidenhead.
There was a moment, when people were piling out of wagons, when Maria, Ana, and Isabel were walking together and chatting lightly, sharing smiles and jokes that weren’t about the Inquisition, when the entire camp froze and turned to stare at Ana.
At the trail of footstep shaped flower patches she’d left across the grass from the wagon to where the campfire would be.
Ana felt their gazes, and started to apologise, but she was interrupted by Esmerelda’s round of applause. They didn’t share a language, but delight was culturally universal, and then Eleni and Esmerelda sat picking daisies from footsteps and chaining them together. Toma hovered nearby, watching them carefully.
He should have been watching his wife, instead. She was carrying a bag of carrots towards the fire when she suddenly stopped halfway. She just stood still, in the middle of the campsite for a moment, and then there was a splash as her water broke.
“I knew it was gonna be a long night,” Esmerelda muttered as she picked herself up and hobbled over to Elena.
“Bender or vargo?” Toma yelled.
Mihai glanced towards Selene. “Bender,” he yelled back, then Petri and Toma were racing to unpack the bender and set it up as quickly as they could. “Ilona,” Mihai yelled, “watch the children. All of them.”
Anika was helping Elena to sit on a dry piece of grass as their husbands readied the tent the new baby would be born in. Esmerelda reached them and settled down on the grass. Selene grabbed a pot and ran to the stream, then came back to boil the water. Lenka, Toma’s eleven-year-old daughter, was sent for wash cloths to be boiled.
“Kannika, Kisa Susa,” Selene said, “can you make everyone food later?”
They quickly agreed and began taking stock of what there was and what they knew how to make over an open fire. Mihai slipped off into the woods in the direction of the nearest town. The locals didn’t always like Romani families, and there might be trouble if they heard screaming coming from the woods at night.
Selene took the pot of boiled cloths from the fire to let them cool as the men finished laying the Persian rugs in the bender they’d thrown up.
Then Selene and Anika helped Elena into the tent, and onto some blankets that had been set down for her. When she was secure, Selene rushed back outside and grabbed the pot of boiled cloths, and followed Esmerelda and Lenka into the tent.
Esmerelda shrugged when Anika frowned at Lenka. “She’s old enough to see what it’s about, and we might need someone to run for things.”
Within moments, Esmerelda was sitting beside Elena, her hand up the other woman’s skirt. “Ah, not yet. We’ve got some time before the little one comes out.”
“We should have brought the dice in,” Anika joked.
Stella would have loved to be here, Selene thought to herself. She’d have learned so much from all the swearing Elena did in Kalderash at the idea of her midwives playing dice.
Lenka was just staring at her mum, wide-eyed. Selene rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, your mama will be fine.”
It was three hours before Esmerelda, after regular checking, announced that Elena was ready. This was her sixth baby, she knew what to do, and with a grimace she started to push. She tried to keep the noise down, but the pain was too much, and she was shouting and screaming when she had to.
“Come on, push,” they encouraged her. “Once more, push.”
“Heads clear,” Esmerelda said.
“Push!”
There was a last push, and the baby was out. She was handed off to her mother, who looked exhausted and pleased.
“I don’t know how you do that,” Selene told her honestly. “Once was enough for me to know never again.”
“Ah, they’re worth it,” Elena replied, a slight smile still on her face. She looked unsteady.
“You tired?” Selene asked gently.
“C-cold.”
Esmerelda looked up from where she was sitting, her hands still between Elena’s legs. She pulled a blood-soaked cloth away and quickly pressed another one there. “Lenka, we need a brew of yarrow or shepherd’s purse.”
“But-”
“Now, girl. Go.” Lenka burst from the tent at a run and Esmerelda turned to the other two. “Bleeding’s not stopping. She needs warm towels, Anika, we have to keep her warm. Yarrow and Shepherd’s purse will replace blood loss.”
“She’s not going to find any in the forest at night,” Anika pointed out.
Esmerelda sighed. “I know, but at least she isn’t in here, watching…”
Selene burst from the tent at a run. She didn’t even bother going around the fire, she just leapt over the flames, rolled across the grass on the other side, scattered surprised and yelling Spanish teenagers, and grabbed Maria by the arm. “With me, now.”
Maria didn’t ask questions. The two of them sprinted back towards the tent, and stopped when they saw Toma in front of it. “No,” he said, simply.
“Toma, your wife is dying right now. So you either go in that tent, take her in your arms and tell her you love her for the last time, or you get out of the way of the one person here who has healing magic and can save her. Make your choice.”
He glared at Selene, and stepped aside.
She pushed Maria into the tent in front of her, and watched as the healer dropped beside Elena. She set her hands on the woman’s thighs. “What? No.” She glanced back over at Selene, her face confused and distraught.
“Tell me what’s happening, Maria.”
“My Ability isn’t working.”
“Tell me about your Ability.”
“It doesn’t work on the-” her head whipped around to Esmerelda, who was holding the baby. “She’s not dead yet, is she?” her question was in Spanish, and the old woman looked confused, so Selene repeated it in English.
Esmerelda shook her head. “Unconscious and losing a lot of blood. She doesn’t have long.”
“Unconscious,” Selene said in Spanish. “Dying.”
“I don’t understand why she’s losing blood. She can’t have a wound, or it would heal.”
“Maria,” Selene said, her voice steady, a little harsh, undeniable. “Tell me about your Abilities.”
“My Lay On Hands heals wounds. Organ Knit for organs, Bone Repair for bones, and Vital Scan to see what’s wrong.”
“What does your scan say is the issue?”
Maria turned back to Elena, then focused. “Her uterus won’t contract. The blood vessels can’t close, but it isn’t a wound.”
“It’s not a wound, but the uterus is an organ.”
“It is?”
“When we’re established, we’re getting you anatomy books or lessons, but for now, heal her please.”
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