That’s jest how Emmi was, says Mercy.
Emmi. Born early, denied a mother’s love to anchor her to the world, she barely hung on fer the first few weeks. Then, with Mercy’s care, somethin inside of her kicked an she started to fight to live. The commander checks the child over. He speaks to the women some more. He turns to the young Tonton an flicks his fingers. The boy slips from the room.
The copper-haired wet nurse starts to swaddle the baby agin. The commander stops her. With urgent distress, they talk at him, her an the midwife. They’ve raised their voices, so I can make out, Another few days, an Please, sir. He cuts ’em off short with a raised hand.
He’s decided, says Mercy. No hope fer this one.
After a few more words, the commander leaves the room. The young Tonton’s jest comin back in an they exchange nods at the doorway. He comes over to the women. The wet nurse hesitates, clutchin Rae’s baby to her. Then she gently kisses her head an hands her over, naked as she is.
I notice how carefully the Tonton takes her. How he supports her head with his hand. How he cradles her in his arms so easy, so natural.
An I think to myself, He’s done that before. Maybe had a little sister of his own. Was happy to help with her, loved her. Not like me. To my shame, I never touched Em once. I blamed her fer Ma bein dead. Lugh was the one who helped Pa with her.
Suddenly, the pound of runnin feet. We all hit the ground. A second later, two Tonton appear from the back of the babyhouse. They head fer the stables. The moment they’re outta sight, we scramble around the far corner of the buildin. We hold our breath. We wait.
The red hot quivers in me, strains to break free. My hand rests on my gunbelt—flew there at the sound of runnin feet. Essept I ain’t wearin it. Fer the very first time since I left Silverlake, I ain’t packin no weapons. None of us are. No bows, no guns, no knife in my boot sheath. It don’t feel right. I don’t feel right. I notice Jack’s hand rests where his gun ain’t.
The Tonton haul a double bench buggy from the stables. One runs back inside to fetch a horse an they ease him into the traces an hitch him up. It’s all done in double-quick time.
They’re gonna take Rae home, whispers Mercy.
You know where she lives? I says to Cassie.
She nods. She’s perfectly calm. I recall her steady nerve the night I first met her. When Jack snatched Emmi an it was only thanks to her an Bram’s cool heads that I didn’t git us all killed there an then.
While the Tonton bring the horse an cart to the front door, locks rattle, bars creak an it swings wide open. The commander walks Rae out, holdin her by the elbow. She hugs her little bundle to her chest. No sign of tears now. She wouldn’t dare make a fuss in front of him. She holds her head high. Doin her best to act the way a Steward should.
The commander helps her onto the buggy’s rear bench. He smiles an bows his head. She almost manages a smile back. She’s made of stern stuff, this girl Rae. Whether that’ll work in our favour remains to be seen. The two Tonton climb in an settle on the front bench. The grunt ridin shotgun lays his firestick on his knees. With a slap of the reins an a sudden jolt, the buggy rumbles from the yard an into the moonpath that lights the road north Silver.
As the front door shuts, locks rattle, bars creak, we can see Rae’s dark figger on the buggy’s back bench. She twists around to take a long, last look. Then she turns to face the road ahead.
Don’t worry, girl, I says. You’ll see yer baby soon. Then I says to Cassie, We ain’t gonna need yer play actin after all. We picked the right night to come. You an Mercy git the horses. Wait fer us by the first bend along that north road. There’s some rock cover there. Jack, yer with me. Let’s go git that scrawny little baby.
The young Tonton’s easy to spot. Easy to keep in our sights. The night’s clear lit an the land lies flat an he’s the only thing movin besides us. An the light breeze carries snatches of the baby’s thin wail. So we hang back an keep low in case he glances behind him. Nero coasts along above us, but nobody’d give a second thought to a crow flyin by night. That’s if they even noticed it.
With the Tonton’s head start, he must be well on the way to wherever he’s bin told to leave the child. I’m guessin it’ll be some fair distance from the babyhouse. Far outta hearin range. Nobody could take the sound of a baby cryin outdoors all night long. Not even the Tonton. The speed this guy’s goin, a sort of runnin walk, says he’s in a hurry to git the job over with. From his gait, you can tell that he’s hunched around the baby, huggin her close to his chest. He’s probly got her unnerneath his cloak.
What a grim task. He must be bottom of the peckin order. We follow him fer half a league or so, along a path through the low scrub. It ain’t worn ground, but it’s bin trampled down enough to make easy goin. Then he’s gone. Jest like that. Disappeared from view completely.
Jack snatches up the looker that’s hangin around his neck. Where’d he go? he mutters as he sweeps the night. Dammit. C’mon!
We belt across the plain. We nearly tumble down on top of him. He’s sat cross-legged at the bottom of a dry little gully with the baby laid across his lap. We duck behind a boulder an peek out. The baby’s whimperin now, but the steep rocky sides will blanket any sound she makes. The Tonton’s took off his own sheema to wrap her. That’s somethin he ain’t meant to do. He’s makin a tidy, careful job of it as well. His firestick’s on the ground next to him.
He’s sayin, Don’t look at me like that. This ain’t my fault. Yer too small an whose fault is that? Yers, that’s who. You should of stayed inside yer ma till you was growed big enough. But oh no, you was in too much of a hurry. An fer what? Look at the pickle you got yerself into.
He talks to her like you would anybody. Jest normal conversation. It’s the only way he can do this. Me an Jack look at each other. An, fer the briefest of moments, in the starfallen night, I see the father he was fer the briefest of times. Gracie’s father. A girl child like this one. I always ferget Jack had a child. Only now does it occur to me that this might be hard fer him.
Okay, yer done, says the Tonton. He takes the baby in his arms an gits to his feet. I gotta put you somewheres outta the wind. You don’t wanna catch cold. An we don’t want them coyotes catchin wind of you. Over there? Good idea. He settles her in a nook between the rocks. There you go, look at that. Yer snug as a bug. Now listen to me, an this is real important, okay? You cain’t cry, not a peep an I mean it. If a coyote was to find you— His throat works as he fights not to cry. Suddenly, he turns an scrambles up the other side of the gully. He rushes off into the night.
Jack an me do a silent finger count to ten. He stands slowly an checks with the looker. He’s goin, he whispers.
You stay here, I says.
I pick my way down the rocks, takin good care every time I move a foot or a hand. I mustn’t make no sound. But my last step sets off a slide of pebbles. I freeze. Stare up at Jack. He checks through the looker.
He’s outta sight, he says. Go on.
The baby’s started to mew agin. I hurry to her along the gully. She gringes a feeble protest as I try to winkle her out from where she’s tucked between the rocks. I ain’t quite sure how to go about it. I don’t wanna hurt her by mistake. Shhh, I tell her. My hands feel clumsy. About as useful as feet fer the task. The Tonton’s sheema seems to be caught on somethin.
Emmi. Born early, denied a mother’s love to anchor her to the world, she barely hung on fer the first few weeks. Then, with Mercy’s care, somethin inside of her kicked an she started to fight to live. The commander checks the child over. He speaks to the women some more. He turns to the young Tonton an flicks his fingers. The boy slips from the room.
The copper-haired wet nurse starts to swaddle the baby agin. The commander stops her. With urgent distress, they talk at him, her an the midwife. They’ve raised their voices, so I can make out, Another few days, an Please, sir. He cuts ’em off short with a raised hand.
He’s decided, says Mercy. No hope fer this one.
After a few more words, the commander leaves the room. The young Tonton’s jest comin back in an they exchange nods at the doorway. He comes over to the women. The wet nurse hesitates, clutchin Rae’s baby to her. Then she gently kisses her head an hands her over, naked as she is.
I notice how carefully the Tonton takes her. How he supports her head with his hand. How he cradles her in his arms so easy, so natural.
An I think to myself, He’s done that before. Maybe had a little sister of his own. Was happy to help with her, loved her. Not like me. To my shame, I never touched Em once. I blamed her fer Ma bein dead. Lugh was the one who helped Pa with her.
Suddenly, the pound of runnin feet. We all hit the ground. A second later, two Tonton appear from the back of the babyhouse. They head fer the stables. The moment they’re outta sight, we scramble around the far corner of the buildin. We hold our breath. We wait.
The red hot quivers in me, strains to break free. My hand rests on my gunbelt—flew there at the sound of runnin feet. Essept I ain’t wearin it. Fer the very first time since I left Silverlake, I ain’t packin no weapons. None of us are. No bows, no guns, no knife in my boot sheath. It don’t feel right. I don’t feel right. I notice Jack’s hand rests where his gun ain’t.
The Tonton haul a double bench buggy from the stables. One runs back inside to fetch a horse an they ease him into the traces an hitch him up. It’s all done in double-quick time.
They’re gonna take Rae home, whispers Mercy.
You know where she lives? I says to Cassie.
She nods. She’s perfectly calm. I recall her steady nerve the night I first met her. When Jack snatched Emmi an it was only thanks to her an Bram’s cool heads that I didn’t git us all killed there an then.
While the Tonton bring the horse an cart to the front door, locks rattle, bars creak an it swings wide open. The commander walks Rae out, holdin her by the elbow. She hugs her little bundle to her chest. No sign of tears now. She wouldn’t dare make a fuss in front of him. She holds her head high. Doin her best to act the way a Steward should.
The commander helps her onto the buggy’s rear bench. He smiles an bows his head. She almost manages a smile back. She’s made of stern stuff, this girl Rae. Whether that’ll work in our favour remains to be seen. The two Tonton climb in an settle on the front bench. The grunt ridin shotgun lays his firestick on his knees. With a slap of the reins an a sudden jolt, the buggy rumbles from the yard an into the moonpath that lights the road north Silver.
As the front door shuts, locks rattle, bars creak, we can see Rae’s dark figger on the buggy’s back bench. She twists around to take a long, last look. Then she turns to face the road ahead.
Don’t worry, girl, I says. You’ll see yer baby soon. Then I says to Cassie, We ain’t gonna need yer play actin after all. We picked the right night to come. You an Mercy git the horses. Wait fer us by the first bend along that north road. There’s some rock cover there. Jack, yer with me. Let’s go git that scrawny little baby.
The young Tonton’s easy to spot. Easy to keep in our sights. The night’s clear lit an the land lies flat an he’s the only thing movin besides us. An the light breeze carries snatches of the baby’s thin wail. So we hang back an keep low in case he glances behind him. Nero coasts along above us, but nobody’d give a second thought to a crow flyin by night. That’s if they even noticed it.
With the Tonton’s head start, he must be well on the way to wherever he’s bin told to leave the child. I’m guessin it’ll be some fair distance from the babyhouse. Far outta hearin range. Nobody could take the sound of a baby cryin outdoors all night long. Not even the Tonton. The speed this guy’s goin, a sort of runnin walk, says he’s in a hurry to git the job over with. From his gait, you can tell that he’s hunched around the baby, huggin her close to his chest. He’s probly got her unnerneath his cloak.
What a grim task. He must be bottom of the peckin order. We follow him fer half a league or so, along a path through the low scrub. It ain’t worn ground, but it’s bin trampled down enough to make easy goin. Then he’s gone. Jest like that. Disappeared from view completely.
Jack snatches up the looker that’s hangin around his neck. Where’d he go? he mutters as he sweeps the night. Dammit. C’mon!
We belt across the plain. We nearly tumble down on top of him. He’s sat cross-legged at the bottom of a dry little gully with the baby laid across his lap. We duck behind a boulder an peek out. The baby’s whimperin now, but the steep rocky sides will blanket any sound she makes. The Tonton’s took off his own sheema to wrap her. That’s somethin he ain’t meant to do. He’s makin a tidy, careful job of it as well. His firestick’s on the ground next to him.
He’s sayin, Don’t look at me like that. This ain’t my fault. Yer too small an whose fault is that? Yers, that’s who. You should of stayed inside yer ma till you was growed big enough. But oh no, you was in too much of a hurry. An fer what? Look at the pickle you got yerself into.
He talks to her like you would anybody. Jest normal conversation. It’s the only way he can do this. Me an Jack look at each other. An, fer the briefest of moments, in the starfallen night, I see the father he was fer the briefest of times. Gracie’s father. A girl child like this one. I always ferget Jack had a child. Only now does it occur to me that this might be hard fer him.
Okay, yer done, says the Tonton. He takes the baby in his arms an gits to his feet. I gotta put you somewheres outta the wind. You don’t wanna catch cold. An we don’t want them coyotes catchin wind of you. Over there? Good idea. He settles her in a nook between the rocks. There you go, look at that. Yer snug as a bug. Now listen to me, an this is real important, okay? You cain’t cry, not a peep an I mean it. If a coyote was to find you— His throat works as he fights not to cry. Suddenly, he turns an scrambles up the other side of the gully. He rushes off into the night.
Jack an me do a silent finger count to ten. He stands slowly an checks with the looker. He’s goin, he whispers.
You stay here, I says.
I pick my way down the rocks, takin good care every time I move a foot or a hand. I mustn’t make no sound. But my last step sets off a slide of pebbles. I freeze. Stare up at Jack. He checks through the looker.
He’s outta sight, he says. Go on.
The baby’s started to mew agin. I hurry to her along the gully. She gringes a feeble protest as I try to winkle her out from where she’s tucked between the rocks. I ain’t quite sure how to go about it. I don’t wanna hurt her by mistake. Shhh, I tell her. My hands feel clumsy. About as useful as feet fer the task. The Tonton’s sheema seems to be caught on somethin.
