Mist Rising by Eve Langlais
Chapter Four
What a dumb thing to ask.Agathe got snarky with her Soraer. “What do you think happened? Or in your senility, did you already forget the monster?” No need to mention that parts of the battle were fuzzy for her. How had the monster really died? Because what she recalled just wasn’t possible. A baby couldn’t touch a creature and kill it.
“I wasn’t talking about the creature.” Venna waved a hand. “I meant…what happened to your face?”
Agathe grimaced. “I smacked it off the ground when the monster tripped me.”
“How come when I hit myself, I don’t lose any wrinkles?” Hiix noted.
“What are you yammering on about?” Agathe barked as she slammed the door shut. It clanged, and the bolts snicked into place with ease. Only then did she relax. Once more, the adage of nothing good happened in the middle of the night had held true.
Then again… She glanced at the baby and only caught part of Hiix’s words. “…magic is the only explanation.”
“Magic is the explanation for what?” Agathe asked, looking up.
“The fact that you appear to have lost a few decades.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the mist making you see things,” Agathe retorted.
“Am I? Because Venna sees it, too.”
Her other Soraer nodded. “You really should look in a mirror.”
“We don’t have any,” she retorted. The Abbaes of the Shield frowned on frivolous extras. Polished metal was for weapons, not mirrors. Even if they did have one, she wasn’t vain enough that she needed to look right now. Hiix’s eyes were probably misbehaving. It happened at their age. What looked like an ostrawk in a clear blue sky now often turned out to be a bird the size of her fist.
“If she wants to ignore the fact her face looks like it was dipped in a vat of youth, then let’s change subjects. I want to talk about the baby. Where did it come from?” Venna circled a finger over the child’s head, crowned in glossy black curls.
“It’s not an it,” Agathe pointed out. “And I have no idea where the child came from or who left it here. All I know is that someone rang the bell numerous times, and when I emerged, I found the babe on the ground by the tree.”
Venna’s eyes widened. “A good thing you went out to find the baby. That monster would have eaten the sweetling for sure.”
“Perhaps that’s what someone wanted. Why else abandon a defenseless infant at night on the edge of the Abyss? Who would do such a horrible thing?” Hiix couldn’t hide her indignation at such evil.
“They wouldn’t have rung the bell if that was their plan,” Agathe pointed out.
“Are you sure it rang? Because we heard nothing.”
“Probably because your snores drowned it out.” At the same time, Agathe had to wonder if she’d heard the ring or if her Goddess had meddled to ensure Agathe would be in time to save the child.
“I don’t snore!” Venna huffed.
“You obviously heard something, or you wouldn’t have joined me in time to fight the monster.”
“I heard something, all right,” Hiix muttered.
“A good thing we arrived.” Venna stroked a finger down the baby’s cheek.
The child’s head rested on Agathe’s shoulder, calm as could be. Unnatural given all that had happened. Agathe ignored her disquiet. After all, the Goddess had sent her to this babe.
“We won’t figure out anything standing in the courtyard.” A grand word for a vast cave. The entire Abbae was a network of tunnels linking to other caves, some natural, others dug and reinforced. At night, only a half-dozen globes glowed, enough to get around. “Put out the fire. We’ll get the baby into the communal hall and find a linen to wrap it in before he or she catches a chill.”
“I’ll carry the child.” Venna held out her hands, and Agathe almost turned with a hiss.
As if she’d hand the baby over. Agathe had a duty to protect it. Their Goddess had entrusted the child to her. Chosen her for this special task. Tell no one. “The child is used to me. Best not shock it too much.”
“I’ll wager the child is hungry. I’ll get some milk.” Venna hurried to their very small animal pen, now consisting of one goat and two chickens. Back in the day, they used to have more, but three people didn’t need much—and their last pig had tasted delicious once roasted.
“What do you think? Boy or girl?” Hiix asked, leading the way into the communal hall. The trestle tables—made of stone and from a time when the Abbae overflowed with acolytes—remained in three lines, with the head table for the Maeder and the higher-ranked Soraers long vacant. The Maeder who’d welcomed Agathe had long since passed, as had the one after her. By then, no one really cared who got the job. There were only three of them left. Venna, Hiix, and Agathe. Soraers in their faith and friends so long that they might as well be blood.
“I don’t know. One way to find out.” Plopping the baby on a trestle table, Agathe lay the child on its back and peeled the wet diaper from it. “Girl. Healthy-looking.” Well-fed, judging by the flesh on her bones. Good-humored, too. She’d yet to cry despite the action.
“Funny, I could have sworn earlier her eyes were purple,” Venna stated.
She didn’t need to say anything else. The King’s law was clear. Purple-eyed children were to be presented yearly at the Vionox held in the King’s City when the suns and moons aligned. There, they became property of the King and were never seen again. No one knew what happened next, and they tended to avoid the subject, given how much it upset Hiix.
“You must be mistaken. Her eyes are very clearly a grayish-brown.”
“What are we supposed to do with her?” Hiix asked as the baby reached for her. Hiix held out a hand for the child to grasp.
For a second, fear hit Agathe, and she wanted to yell at Hiix, tell her not to let the baby touch her. Ridiculous. As if a child could hurt an adult. “I’d say it’s obvious what we have to do. Raise her.”
“Us?” Hiix burst out in rusty laughter. “We’re old ladies. At least Venna and I are. A child like this will require much attention. Who will mind her when we have our needed daily naps?”
“We’ll share the task in shifts,” Agathe declared. “Or not. If you don’t wish to aid, then I will care for the child myself. It is, after all, the Goddess’s will.” She’d waited her whole life for this moment. She wouldn’t fail now.
“Never said I wouldn’t help,” grumbled Hiix. “Just that it’s a lot of work, and we don’t have any baby supplies.”
A good point. Agathe had never seen an acolyte younger than her join the Abbae. In her decades, they’d had barely a dozen new Soraers. Older women who, like Agathe, had thought about giving up when life became too hard to bear. They took the walk to the edge of the Abyss, and like the Goddess had with Agathe, sometimes she thought them worthy enough to change their minds.
“We don’t need anything complicated.” Agathe tapped her lower lip. “A way to feed her milk.” Their breasts were long dry. “A bed she can’t fall out of. We have cloth for nappies.” As clothing wore out and Soraers died, their pile of rags grew.
“And what if she ends up with the purple eyes?” Hiix asked. She’d joined the Order after losing both a son and a daughter for having that particular trait. She would have done anything to keep her children from entering the Citadel and never seeing them again. Not that she had a choice. One could either hand them over willingly or suffer the consequences. Hide them and chances were someone would tattle for the reward.
Hiix had told Agathe that the worst part was the money bestowed after. Her husband saw no reason not to enjoy their newfound wealth. Blood money that reminded her of their loss. Hiix left home the next day.
Agathe stroked a hand over the baby’s soft hair. “I don’t care what the laws say. I will not hand her over.”
“Whatever Venna saw was probably a trick of the light,” Hiix stated. “Babies are never born with the purple.” Most didn’t manifest until puberty. Only rarely did it happen younger.
“That child is a miracle,” Venna declared, returning with some warm milk and having the forethought to bring a leather skin with a polished wooden spout that made an imperfect nipple. But the baby didn’t care.
She drank, burped, farted, and went to sleep.
But Agathe got no peace, as her Soraers laid into her.
