The battlements overlooking the pass would bristle with archers, many using crossbows and quarrels supplied from Albek's packs.
"Nice of him to leave them," Theron had said. "Gives the whole situation a certain circular nature I'd like to consider a good omen."
Pjerin squinted into the east a while longer, then twisted to face Annice. "You're very quiet," he said. Noting her confused expression and the way she was staring down at her. legs, he asked, "Anything wrong?"
"I'm having a baby."
"I know that."
"You don't understand." She clutched his arm, conscious only of warm fluid dribbling down the inside of her thighs. "I'm having a baby now."
"Now?"
"Your Grace! There! Did you see it?"
"Now?"
She shook him. "Yes, now."
"But you're not due until Second Quarter! That's…"
He tried to count, but numbers failed him. "… days away."
"You think I don't know that?"
"Riders in the pass!"
"Annice, this isn't a good time."
"What are you talking about!"
"We're about to be attacked by the Cemandian army!"
"Fine!" She glared up at him. "You can tell them to wait!"
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"… because you've probably been in labor for the last few hours."
"But I've had worse cramping during my flows," Annice protested as Elica sat her down on the end of the bed.
"Good." The healer turned to a bow! of warm water a curious server had just brought in and began washing her hands. "You may breeze right through this. We'll get you cleaned up and into a smock and then we'll find the rhythm of the contractions." She shot a grin over her shoulder at Annice. "You can put it to music if you like."
Annice felt some of her apprehension fade and took a deep breath, unlacing tightly clasped fingers.
"What should I do?" Pjerin hadn't realized how small Annice actually was until he'd carried her down from the top of the tower—all the way from Elbasan, even before at the keep, she'd given the impression of being much larger. She'd convinced him to let her walk once they reached level ground, by the volume of her arguments if nothing else, but he'd kept her arm tucked in his while he sent the first person he saw running to find the healer. He paced to her side, then back to the door, then to her side again. "Should I boil water? Rip up sheets? Rub her back?"
"Ow! Pjerin!"
Elica sighed. "Don't you have a war to fight, Your Grace?"
"A war?" For a moment Pjerin's face went blank. "Center it!" Three long strides and he was almost out of the room, three more and he returned to gently hold her face cupped between his hands. "I can't stay, Annice. I'm sorry. But I've got to…"
"I understand." She pushed her hands up under his. "I'm fine."
He snorted. "You keep saying that."
"Then keep believing it."
Bending forward, he kissed her lightly, then, as the sound of someone shouting for him drifted in through the shuttered window, almost ran from the room.
"Did you want him with you?" Elica asked, helping Annice to her feet and pulling the damp shift up over her head.
Emerging from a fold of fabric, Annice winced at »a sudden contraction more powerful than the rest. "No." Her tone dressed the words in a multitude of meaning. "He got me here. I think he's done enough."
"Are they still holding back?"
Tadeus cocked his head into the breeze. "Yes, Majesty. Just out of bow shot."
Theron grunted and pulled on his gloves. "Stasya ready on the battlements?" The bards would not only use the kigh to carry orders beyond the range of his voice, but would see to it that everyone, regardless of what language they spoke would understand what was happening.
"She's there, but she's not happy. She'd much rather be with Annice."
"I know. I wish I could allow it, but we need her too badly out here. What about you?"
"Me, Majesty?" Tadeus grinned. "No, thank you. I've been with Annice when she's not having a good time, so all things being enclosed, I'd much rather stay here, be shot full of arrows, galloped over by heavy cavalry, have my throat slit by a camp follower, and my broken body left to rot under a merciless sun."
"Idiot," Theron muttered. "Are you sure my message got through to the captain in Elbasan?"
"Perfectly sure, Majesty."
"Then all we can do is wait." He squinted up at the sun. "Still, there's no question that waiting beats dying."
"How much longer is this going to go on?" Pjerin growled, stomping up from the barricades and yanking off his helm. With his hair clubbed back tightly into a wire-bound braid, the angles of his face enhanced an irritated expression. A knee-length vest of scale added a certain barbaric splendor compared to the simple breast-and-back of the king's company. Although he wore greaves, they were boiled leather rather than metal and both arms were covered wrist to elbow in laced leather guards. Waving his huge mountain bow at the keep, he snarled, "I thought the healer was going to tell us when something happened!"
Theron covered a smile. "Then nothing has happened."
"But it's been hours!"
"Pjerin, I sat with Her Majesty through the birth of each of our three children and I've learned from the experience—babies come in their own good time and there's nothing in the Circle you, as a father, can do to change that."
"Gerek was easier," Pjerin muttered, cramming his helm back on. "No one told me when it started, just when it was over. Handed me my son and that was that."
As the due stomped back to the barricade, Theron shook his head. "With any luck, the baby will get his looks, her voice, and someone else's temperament."
"Is he very beautiful?" Tadeus asked, sounding just a little wistful.
"I heard you sing 'Darkling Lover' just outside Caciz," Theron reminded the bard. "It contains some pretty explicit description, don't you think?"
"Explicit, Majesty, is not always accurate."
"Well, allowing for the passage of time, it's accurate enough."
Tadeus sighed. "Lucky Annice."
"How long does this usually go on?" Annice panted, right hand gripping the crook of Elica's elbow and her left pressed flat against the wall to support her weight. She'd lost track of how many times they'd walked up and down the hall, bare feet shuffling against the smooth stone. Although the contractions were definitely coming closer together and with greater intensity, as far as she could tell, nothing much seemed to be happening.
Elica shifted position slightly so that they both fit through the doorway. "It isn't over until it's over, Annice. Every woman is different. Every baby is unique."
"That's not very reassuring."
The village midwife stood as they came back into the room. She was a plump, grandmotherly sort of woman with tiny hands and a perpetual smile Annice was beginning to find extremely annoying. "So, how are we doing?" she asked.
"We," Annice began, but a contraction cut her off. She hadn't been able to talk through them for some time, and when it finally ended, she'd forgotten what she meant to say.
"Fifty-six," the midwife said. They'd established early on that her pulse would be used for timing.
"Good." Elica lowered Annice onto the clean sheet that draped the end of the bed. "I need to have a look and see how far dilated you are."
"A look?" Annice's eyes widened. "Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"
"Probably." They had a small fire going in the fireplace and a kettle sitting over it on a tripod. Elica poured some of the hot water into a basin and washed her hands.
Fingers twisting the sheet into two sweaty bundles, Annice reclined against the pile of pillows and tried to relax. "How come nobody warned me about all this?" she asked the top of the healer's head.