“What were the babies like?” Ellemir asked eagerly, and Callista grimaced. “All newborn babes look to me like hairless rabbithorns for the spit, Elli, surpassingly ugly.”
“Oh, Callie, how can you say that!” Ellemir reproached. “Well, I shall simply have to go and see them for myself! Four at a birth, what a marvel!”
“Still, it is hard for the poor woman. I managed to encourage two women of the village to share the suckling, but even before they are weaned, we shall have to send them a dairy animal.”
News of the quadruple birth spread far and wide around the hills, and Ferrika said she was glad it was still winter and the roads not too good — though indeed it was a mild winter — or the poor woman would be bothered to death by people coming to see this marvel. Andrew found himself wondering what a severe winter would be like, if this was a mild one. He supposed that some year he would find out.
He had lost track of the passing time, except insofar as he carefully registered expected dates of foaling in the horse ranch’s studbooks and got into long, involved discussions with Dom Esteban and old Rhodri about the breeding of the best mares. The days were lengthening perceptibly when he had the passing of time brought forcibly to his attention.
He had come in from a long day in the saddle, and was going upstairs to ready himself for the evening meal. Callista, in the Great Hall, was with her father, teaching the old man to play her harp. Ellemir met him at the door of the suite they shared and drew him into her half of the rooms.
This was not uncommon. Damon had been absorbed in research, and now and again made lengthy journeys into the overworld. His efforts were fruitless so far, but it had the normal consequence of matrix work, and Ellemir had, matter-of-factly, welcomed Andrew into her bed at these times and others. At first he had accepted this for what it had always been, a substitute for Callista’s inability. Then, one night, when he merely slept at her side — she had turned away intimacy, saying she was too tired — he had realized that it was not only this he desired of Ellemir.
He loved her. Not as a substitute for Callista, but for herself. He found this intensely disturbing, having always thought that falling in love with one woman meant falling out of love with others. He carefully concealed the thought, knowing it would trouble her, and only when he was far out in the hills, away from them all, did he let his mind carefully explore the thought: God help me, have I married the wrong woman? And yet when he saw Callista again, he knew he loved her no less than ever, that he would love her forever even if he could never again touch even her fingertips. He loved both of them. What could he do about it? Now, as he looked at Ellemir, small and smiling and flushed, he could not forbear taking her in his arms and kissing her heartily.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “You smell of the saddle.”
“I’m sorry, I was going to bathe—”
“Don’t apologize, I like the smell of horses, and in winter I can never get out and ride. What were you doing?” When he told her, she said, “I’d think the coridom could handle that.”
“Oh, he could, but if they get used to seeing me handle their problems, they’ll be willing to come to me instead of bothering Dom Esteban. And he looks so tired and worn lately. I think the winter is weighing on him.”
“On me too,” Ellemir said, “but I have something now to make the waiting worthwhile. Andrew, I wanted to tell you first of alclass="underline" I am pregnant! It must have happened shortly before Midwinter—”
“God almighty!” he said, shocked and sobered. “Ellemir, I’m sorry, love — I should have been—”
It was like a slap in the face. She moved away from him, her eyes flashing with anger. “I wanted to thank you for this, and now I find you begrudge me this greatest of gifts. How can you be so cruel?”
“Wait, wait—” He felt confused. “Elli, little love—”
“How dare you call me love-names after… after slapping me in the face like that?”
He put out a hand to her. “Wait, Ellemir, please. I don’t understand again, I thought… Are you trying to tell me you are pleased about being pregnant?”
She felt equally confused. “How could I possibly not be pleased? What sort of women have you known? I was so happy, so very happy when Ferrika told me this morning that now it was sure, not just my own wishes confusing me.” She looked ready to cry. “I wanted to share my happiness and you treat me like a prostitute, as if I were unfit to bear your child!” She sobbed suddenly. Andrew drew her against him. She pushed him away, then lay weeping against his shoulder.
He said helplessly, “Oh, Ellemir, Ellemir, will I ever understand any of you? If you are happy about this, then of course I am happy too.” He realized that he meant it as he had never meant anything in his life.
She sniffled, raising her head, like a day in springtime, all showers and sunshine. “Really, Andrew? Really glad?”
“Of course, darling, if you are.” Whatever complications this might cause, he added to himself. It must be his child or she would have told Damon first.
She picked up his confusion. “But how could Damon feel? He shares my happiness, of course, and is glad!” She leaned back, looked up into his face and said, “Would this also be something wrong for your people? I am glad I do not know any of them!”
Repeated shocks of this kind had made Andrew almost numb to them. “Damon is my friend, my best friend. Among my people this would be considered treachery, a betrayal. My best friend’s wife would be the one woman forbidden to me.”
She shook her head. “I do not think I like your people at all. Do you think I would share my bed with any man my husband did not know and love? Would I bear a child for my husband to father, by a stranger or an enemy?” After a moment, she added, “It is true, I wished to bear Damon a child first, but you know what happened, and might happen again. We are too closely kin, so now we may decide to have no children between us, since he does not need an heir of Ridenow blood, and a child you give us is likely to be healthier and stronger than one he might give me.”
“I see.” He could admit it made some sense, but he paused to examine his own feelings. A child of his own, by a woman he loved. But not by his beloved wife. A child who would call some other man father, on whom he would have no claim. And how would Callista feel? Would it seem another mark of her distance, her exclusion? Would she feel betrayed?
Ellemir said gently, “I am sure she will be glad for me too. Surely you do not think I would add a feather’s weight to her sorrow when she has had so much to bear.”
He still felt uncertain. “Does she know?”
“No, though she may suspect, of course.” She hesitated. “I always forget you are not one of us. I will tell her if you wish, though one of our own would want to tell her himself.”