A Long Time from Home Pt. 02 Ch. 13

Author's notes:

This is the continuation of A Long Time from Home and if you haven't read that, I advise you to do so. The series is self-edited, so any mistakes are mine, though I now have a proofreader, that can catch missing words ect. Thanks to Jessejames932006 for doing that.

As you can see from the 'Flashback' part, this chapter takes place in the ancient past. While I have done a lot of research for that, there might be small errors here and there. If you think you found such an error in the story, please double check to be sure that you're correct and then PM me about it, so I can fix it. :)

Due to its length, I placed ALTFH under the 'Novels and Novellas' section, but as you can see, ALTFH II is placed in the 'Sci-fi and Fantasy' section, which fits it better due to the elements of magic that's in it. At least in my opinion :)

Have fun and while you're at it, please rate the chapter and leave a comment :)

About timing on uploads

Trust me, when I say that I do the best I can to upload as frequently as I can. Unfortunately, my RL is pretty hectic at the moment, and as this is a hobby and not a job, it can take a while from time to time. With that being said, thank you for your patience.

About the notation:

Mental communication is denoted by a , so a mental communication will look like this: ""

Some warnings:

This is erotic action adventure, meaning that there will be both sex and violence, but I don't mix the two.

This story is posted on the Literotica website and the author does not give permission for it to be reposted or reprinted anywhere else without consent.

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13 -- Flashback: Back in Bharat

The city of Kashi, Kashi Kingdom (present day Varanasi, Northern India), 1185 BC

Rocky shores

The crash that woke me also sent me tumbling across the deck, and I hit a wooden crate hard enough to break it and make my ribs hurt even through the iron silk armor.

Cursing, I got to my knees and looked around, trying to understand what had happened. That it was bad went without saying, because ships did not suddenly stop without cause, and the sound of breaking waves reaching my ears made the hair on my neck rise.

Waves only broke in shallow water, not in open water, and judging from the sound, we were about to become part of whatever shore waited out there in the dark.

I sighed.

We had anchored in a small bay as the day gave way to night, as most merchant ships did, but during the night the wind must have risen considerably, because I could feel it driving the rain against my face as I looked around.

The captain was shouting orders, and sailors rushed to obey them, but in the back of my mind, there was no doubt where this was going. No amount of seamanship could save a ship once it had grounded and was at the mercy of waves and wind.

Slipping into Vis-meditation for a moment, I activated Oculos Cati (Baylon: Eyes of the Cat), a Vis power that, as the name suggested, enabled me to see as well in the dark as a cat.

Then I cursed again, because it wasn't a sandbar the ship had been thrown against, but rocks. Huge rocks that looked like dull teeth just waiting to take a bite out of any ship unlucky enough to come within reach.

It also meant that the shipment of wine, tin and cotton I had planned on selling in Kashi was already lost. In a few hours, it would be on the bottom of the ocean, the ceramic jars of wine smashed against the rocks, the cotton torn, and the tin either spread or nestled between the rocks, from where it would be suicidal to retrieve it.

I allowed myself a moment of regret and then pushed the thought away, because survival was more important than goods.

Looking around on the deck, I located my pack, bow and quiver. At least they hadn't been thrown overboard in the collision, so I mounted my pack over my shoulder and the bow at the back, and then started to look to the coast for an escape route.

It didn't take long to determine that it wasn't going to be easy. The rocks made the use of a smaller boat suicidal, and the distance from the ship to any nearby tree was too great for a rope. On the bright side, the rocks formed a relatively thin line, and if we managed to get past them, the path to the coast looked survivable.

"Sir!" a voice shouted almost next to me, but the wind made it sound lower than it probably was. "I'm sorry, sir!"

Looking over, I nodded to Captain Mitra and sent him a smile to show that I didn't blame him. I had witnessed the care he had used when placing the anchors, and he was not to blame. It was simply one of those times where nature won over mankind.

"Not your fault, Mitra!" I shouted. "Let's focus on surviving this!"

The smile he returned was rueful. "Not going to be easy, sir! Half the men can't swim!"

I sighed again. Personally, I thought that being able to swim was a grand idea when you worked on water, but some of the sailors had the opinion that if they were going to drown, being able to swim only prolonged the pain. Consequently, they had purposefully never learned it, trusting whatever deity they offered their prayers to, to keep them alive.

A wave rolled over the ship, making it shake violently and causing the low mast to wobble dangerously. Two sailors were dragging a third, who had almost been swallowed by the ocean, back on the deck.

My mind sped up as I looked around. Wood, rope, waterskins, smashed deck cargo, clothes and everything else were scattered on the deck in a mess.

Dragging Mitra closer so he had a chance to hear me, I ordered him to have the men empty the waterskins, blow some air into them and reseal them.

At first, he looked doubtful, but then he grinned. "Flotation devices!"

"Exactly. Go!"

Looking up at the mast, I took a deep breath. With a bit of luck, it might be long enough to reach the rocks and give the men a way off the ship before the hull broke apart.

Another wave rolled over the ship, smashed it against the rocks and sent two crew members over the side, their screams swallowed by wind and waves.

Just a few minutes more.

I walked over to the mast and made sure to stand on the right side of it, so I wouldn't be hit by splinters if it broke before time.

A moment later, Mitra and eight sailors came up to me, fear written on their faces, but each had two waterskins filled with air.

"Ready!" shouted Mitra.

With a nod, I drew Shadow Fang and turned as I hit the mast. The adamant blade bit cleanly into the wood, and a moment later, the mast fell. It hit almost exactly as I had thought it would, creating a bridge from the ship to the rocks. Not that there was any great calculation needed. With the pressure from the wind, there was only one way it could fall.

"Go!"

Mitra nodded and sent the men off one by one, following the rhythm of the wind to ensure that they had time to run the length of the wood before the next gust of wind arrived.

Unfortunately, they didn't jump into the water, but stayed balanced on the rocks, and I guessed that there was something I couldn't see.

Taking a decision, I waited until the next lull in the wind and then ran the length of the mast until I reached the rocks.

There was nothing in the water, which made me wonder about their mental capacity for a moment... at least until I remembered that they couldn't see in the dark as I could and therefore couldn't see that jumping into the water was a better chance than staying here. The water was not calm, but the wind would at least drive them toward the shore rather than back onto the rocks.

"Jump!" I shouted at the nearest one, but he just shook his head and clutched the two waterskins.

"I'll throw you clear of the rocks!" I shouted and activated the Ars Mentalis trick that made me stronger.

Then I picked him up and threw him as far as I could. Fortunately, like most people in this area of the world, he was at least a head shorter than me and a lot lighter. It was like throwing a child, and he landed well clear of any rocks.

The rest of the crew looked at me like I had lost my mind, but after explaining once again that I would throw them clear of the rocks, they relaxed a little and allowed me to throw them.

Mitra stayed on the ship while I dealt with the men on the rocks, shouting orders and sending them across whenever the wind dropped enough to make the run possible. I could see where the water was safe enough to throw them, while he could see who was still on the ship, and for the moment that was the best arrangement we were going to get.

The next sailor came across with blood running down the side of his face and the two waterskins clutched so tightly against his chest that I was surprised he could breathe. I caught him before he lost his balance, made sure he had a proper hold on the skins, and threw him after the others before he had time to think too much about it.

"How many more?" I shouted back toward the ship.

"Four!" Mitra shouted. "One hurt!"

The ship shifted under him as another wave hit, and the fallen mast scraped against the rocks with a sound that made the sailors still aboard freeze for a heartbeat before Mitra shouted them into motion again. He grabbed one of them by the shoulder, pushed him toward the fallen mast, and then turned back toward the injured man while the sailor ran low along the wet wood with both arms out for balance.

I caught him when he reached the rocks and threw him clear, then turned in time for the next one, who came so close behind him that I barely had time to set my feet before catching him as well.

The third sailor needed more help. He stopped halfway across the mast when the wind hit him from the side, dropping to his knees and clinging to the wet wood with both arms as the sea sprayed over him. Mitra shouted something I could not hear, and when the man still didn't move, the captain went out after him, moving with the careful speed of someone who knew exactly how little time he had.

For a moment, I thought they would both go into the water, but Mitra reached him, grabbed him by the back of his tunic and hauled him forward until the sailor found his feet again. They came the rest of the way together, Mitra keeping one hand on him until they reached the rocks.

"Throw him!" Mitra shouted.

I did.

The sailor screamed all the way down, hit the water badly and disappeared, but the waterskins pulled him up again before the next wave reached him.

That left the injured man.

Mitra turned back without hesitation and crossed the mast again, while I stayed on the rocks and watched the ship move under the force of the sea. The hull was still holding together, but the sound had changed. Before, it had been the sound of a ship in trouble. Now it was the sound of wood being forced apart one wave at a time.

A few moments later, Mitra appeared again, half-carrying and half-dragging a sailor whose leg hung wrong beneath him. The injured man had two waterskins tied to his chest and another two lashed to his back, but he was barely conscious and would never have crossed the mast alone.

Mitra had one arm around him and one hand on the mast, moving step by step while the wounded man tried to help and mostly failed.

"Keep coming!" I shouted.

Mitra did not answer, which was probably wise, since he needed every bit of concentration he had to keep them both from falling. A wave struck the side of the ship hard enough to make the mast jump under his feet, but he stayed upright and dragged the injured sailor the last few steps until I could reach them.

I took the sailor from him, checked the waterskins with one hand and threw him as far as I could. He landed on his side, but clear of the rocks, and the waterskins kept him up while the other sailors in the water started moving toward him.

Mitra leaned against the rock for a moment, breathing hard, rain running down his face.

"Any more?" I shouted.

He looked back toward the ship, and I could see him counting in his head.

"No," he shouted after a moment. "The two who went over before are gone. Everyone else is off."

There was grief in his voice, but no uncertainty, and since he knew his crew better than I did, I accepted it.

"Then jump!"

He nodded, took two steps along the rock and jumped before the next wave could make the decision for him. He hit the water well, better than most of the men had, and came up almost at once with the waterskins under his arms.

I looked back at the ship one last time.

The mast was still there, though it would not be for long, and the deck was already half-submerged whenever the waves rolled over it. Somewhere inside the hull, more jars broke, and the smell of wine mixed with seawater and rain until it seemed as if the whole storm had turned sour.

There was nothing more to save.

I tightened the strap of my pack, checked that the bow was still secure on my back, and jumped.

---

When morning broke, the storm had lessened, but by then we were on the beach, out of drowning danger. That didn't mean that we could relax, since we still needed food and water.

Captain Mitra and several of the sailors set up some cloth to catch the rain, enabling everybody to fill their waterskins, while I focused my attention on the sailor with the busted leg. To my immense relief, the leg wasn't broken. There were muscle damage and some internal bleeding where he had been hit by a crate, but with some treatment he would be able to walk again in a few days, which was the first good news of the morning.

Smiling, I found my acupuncture set in the bag and went to work, watched closely by the rest of the sailors, who kept asking if it hurt and why I did like that and about a hundred other questions. I finally lost patience and asked them to let me work in peace, so he didn't lose his leg forever. That silenced them, and after I had the leg elevated, I inserted a needle that made him fall asleep.

The wreck was almost gone by the time it became light enough to see from the beach to the rocks, claimed by the elements. The only bright side was that some of the deck cargo, provisions among them, had been swept overboard and had made their way to the beach as well.

Strangely, there were no signs of the drowned sailors, proving that the currents here in the bay were unpredictable.

"Here you go, sir," said Mitra as he walked up to me, handing me a waterskin. "Fresh water."

"Thank you."

The water was refreshing with only a touch of salt from the seawater.

"Captain, you know this coastline," I said and looked at him. "How far to the nearest village?"

He considered it for a moment. "I'm tempted to say two days, but since we don't know the coast, will have to turn around a few times, need time to find water and food, I'm guessing four days."

I nodded and looked at the provisions in the surf. "Sounds good. So, one day here to gather all the food we can carry while Puru's leg heals. Then we can set out with him on a stretcher. On the second day, he should be able to walk a little. More on the next day and so forth."

He looked pleasantly surprised. "I thought the leg was broken."

I shook my head. "Hard blow to the muscle, some damage and bleeding, but the bone is intact."

"Good, then we better gather the provisions before the tide carries it out again."

Turning, he barked some orders to his men, who started to gather things.

After thinking it over an extra time, I opened my bag, took one of my Diucultro (Baylon: Long knives) out and handed it to him. "Here. You're going to need this."

Raising his eyebrows, he took it and slowly drew it from the scabbard, so he could see the blade.

Like all Diucultro, the blade was long, broad and slightly forward-curved, with a thick spine and a deep belly near the cutting edge that gave it excellent chopping power, while the tip swept upward into a sharp point that could still thrust if needed.

While not as good as my adamant weapons, the bronze-looking beryl-copper alloy was as hard, tough and sharp as steel, and it was an excellent work knife.

I was also painfully aware that the highly decorated blade didn't look anything like a work blade, but aside from my adamant weapons, it was the only tool I had that would be useful in the dense forest.

He looked from the blade to me and back again. "Are you sure, sir? This looks like a weapon fit for a king."

"It's a loan," I chuckled. "I will want it back when we're out of the forest... but trust me when I say that it is a work blade, not an ornamental piece. It can take a beating and stay strong."

He swallowed something and placed it in his belt. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome." I looked around. "Now let's go arrange things, so we're ready when tomorrow comes. What do we have?"

"Fourteen people including us, two waterskins per person and very little food." He considered that for a moment as he looked at my bow. "How many arrows do you have?"

I grimaced. When I had reached the beach after jumping from the cliff, I had discovered that the flap covering the top of the quiver had gone up from the impact of the water, leaving me with a lot less than the thirty arrows the quiver could hold. "Eleven. The rest fell out when I got in the water."

Mitra nodded. "At least there's a chance that some of them will wash up on beach." There was a faint smile on his face. "It would be useful if we were able to hunt down a wild pig or something of that size." He hesitated and then added. "At least if you're any good with it. Volley fire wouldn't help a lot here."

That almost made me laugh. Mitra sounded like someone who had seen bows in battles, where they were indeed used in volleys, because with a hundred bows sending off arrows at the same time, range was more important than accuracy. It also meant that good military bowmen weren't always good hunters, since it was two different ways of using the same equipment.

"No worries, Mitra. I usually hit what I'm aiming at."

"Good." He smiled. "And now I'll go organize the men."

"Do that." I looked at the bush. "Then I'll go scout the surroundings and try to find a better campsite."

"Mind the snakes."

"I will."

---

So while the sailors cleared the surf, I looked around for a decent place to camp that wasn't on the waterline.

I did find one, as there was a good campsite a little further up the slope, where the cliff created a shallow hollow without too much wind. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one who had thought so, because I could see evidence of extinguished fires and places where people had buried the remains of garbage and food. It wasn't a recent camp, but it was still clear that the place had been used several times before.

That might be a problem later. People who lived along dangerous coasts often learned to watch the sea, and if the bay was a natural trap for ships that anchored there, they might be used to supplementing their income by cleaning any wreckage they found here. While that itself wasn't really a problem for me, it could quickly become one if they decided that whatever we were carrying should be part of their loot.

A paw print in the middle of the ashes caught my eye.

The placement alone made it recently, and it wasn't some small jungle animal. It was the paw print of a great cat, though I didn't know the area well enough to determine the exact kind. Judging from the size, however, it was most likely one of the tigers I had seen the last time I was here.

With a shrug, I moved on.

Large cats were rarely a threat to a group of people as long as the cat was healthy and could hunt. People were generally more trouble than they were worth, and apparently, we did not taste that good to them either. That did not make them harmless, only reasonable in the way predators were reasonable. They weighed effort against reward, danger against hunger, and most of the time a group of loud, armed men did not look like food.

As Mitra had said, snakes were a greater problem because they were hard to see, easy to step on, and would strike if disturbed. If a man accidentally stepped near or on a viper or a krait, he could easily end up with the fangs of a large venomous snake buried in his leg, which would be a death sentence to most people.

A presence made me look to my right just as a tiger came out of the bushes with the slow, silent confidence of most great cats.

Thankfully, it wasn't a hunting prowl. It was more of a movement born from curiosity, but if I hadn't learned long ago that large cats rarely attacked Baylon Mentats, I would have been worried. I still was, but that was on behalf of the sailors rather than myself.

Reaching out with my mind, I gently contacted him and smiled when I discovered that he, because it was a young male, was indeed curious and not hungry. He was merely investigating something that clearly puzzled him.

Slowly, he walked closer, placing each broad paw with a care that made his size seem almost unreal, while his head stayed slightly lowered and his pale amber eyes watched me with alert intelligence.

His coat burned orange beneath the dappled light, crossed by black stripes that seemed to break up his shape one moment and emphasize it the next, while the white fur beneath his throat, along his belly, and around his muzzle gave sharp contrast to the darker markings of his face.

It was a beautiful sight in the way large predators often were, impossibly graceful for his weight and carrying the calm certainty of an animal that knew very few creatures could harm him.

With me being a possible exception.

That was the strange part about meeting great cats. They seemed convinced that I was some sort of fellow cat. Too dangerous to be prey, too peaceful to be afraid of, and too interesting to stay away from.

Finally, he was close enough, and somewhat to my surprise, he blinked slowly before pressing his head against my leg and rubbing along it.

With a low chuckle, I reached out and rubbed him back, whispering, "Yeah... it's a good day to meet new friends."

Since I had my hands on his fur, I could use Ars Mentalis without fearing a backlash, so while I gave him a back-rub, I inserted a few behaviour-regulating patterns into his mind, making sure he did not perceive unarmed people as food or something to fight, unless they threatened him.

That should ensure the safety of the sailors while making sure he did not become too trusting of humans. There were many people who thought a tigerskin looked better on a wall than on the tiger, and I did not want him to end up as a decoration in some local noble's house just because I had done a sloppy job with the mind patterns.

A thought hit me.

He was sated and relaxed, meaning that his prey had to be close, and since large animals required a good deal of food, there might still be meat worth finding.

Diving into his memory, I found his last kill. It was a pig, or rather one of several pigs in a small group. Just what our group of hungry sailors could use.

"What do you say we go hunting, new friend?" I chuckled. "Your scent should be enough."

He growled softly and stretched before ambling back toward the forest.

I took a moment to string my bow and then followed.

---

The sun was almost as high as it could get when I returned to the shore with one dead pig over each shoulder.

They were not small animals, and the weight made the sand unpleasant under my feet, but I had carried worse things over worse ground. At least pigs did not complain, argue, or ask why they had to be carried instead of walking.

"Where ha..." Mitra started the moment he saw me, but the question died when his eyes found the pigs, and a wide smile spread across his face. "Never mind. Good hunting."

"Thank you," I chuckled, lowering the pigs to the ground where the sand was dry enough that they would not immediately become coated in wet grit. "And there's a drier area up on the ledge over there. We can move our things there." I looked around at what they had pulled from the surf and dragged above the waterline. "How much did you get?"

"More than we can carry," he admitted.

Then he started listing it.

Fruit, dried meat and fish, four jars of honey, a lot of driftwood, rope, and some canvas from the sails. They had even found five arrows that had washed ashore, which was good, because the three pigs had cost me two arrows that could not be retrieved. I had cut the arrowheads out of the carcasses as I cleaned them, then left one of the pigs for the tiger as thanks for the help before carrying the other two back to the shore.

The sailors had even had time to construct a makeshift stretcher from wood and sailcloth, which surprised me, but probably shouldn't have. Most sailors knew how to work with wood, rope, and cloth as a natural part of their job, and a stretcher was not that different from a problem aboard ship. It only looked different because there was no deck beneath their feet.

The stretcher made it a lot easier to move the camp to the new place. Once we reached the hollow, the ship's cook started preparing one of the pigs while another sailor started a fire with old, dry driftwood. Two others began cutting sticks so the meat could be cooked over the flames, while three of the remaining sailors went back down to make sure Puru was transported safely to the new campsite as well.

All in all, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, and I was relaxing against a tree when Captain Mitra sat down next to me.

"You are aware that this campsite has been used before, right, sir?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Old fires, buried refuse and the kind of flattened ground that tells you people have slept here before." I looked toward the hollow, where the sailors were moving with the tired efficiency of men who had survived the first disaster and were now trying to outrun the second. "Not recently, but often enough that I noticed it."

Mitra followed my gaze.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

The fire had taken now, dry grey wood cracking as the flames found the older heart beneath the salt-bleached surface. The smoke rose slowly until the wind caught it and dragged it sideways along the cliff, which was good for our eyes and less good for hiding. Down on the beach, more wreckage kept coming in with the waves, pieces of ship and cargo that had once belonged to Captain Mitra and me, but now belonged to the sea until someone else dragged them ashore.

Mitra lowered his voice. "Then you also know what that means."

"That people know this place," I said. "And if they know this place, they may come to look after a storm."

He nodded slowly. "Wreckers. Scavengers. Fishermen with knives. Depends on who lives nearby."

"Sometimes those are the same men."

That earned me a brief look and then a small, humorless smile. "Yes, sir. Sometimes they are."

I leaned my head back against the tree and listened. The sea was loud enough to hide small sounds, which I disliked, but the hollow itself was better than the beach. We had cliff behind us, higher ground to one side and only two easy approaches unless somebody wanted to climb like a goat or crawl through thorn and stone. Not a fortress, but better than the beach.

"We can't run," I told him slowly. "We also can't really hide, since this is not only the best place in this area, it's almost the only place to make a camp in the area and they know this. When the sun comes lower and we've gotten something to eat, we post sentinels at the two paths up here, so we'll know if they come. The rest make spears of some straight branches."

"Wooden spears against fishermen with knives?" he asked, doubt in his voice.

"They're not supposed to win," I said dryly. "They're supposed to avoid losing. We're here as well. If they attack, I'll shoot the bowmen first. Then anyone with throwing spears. Once their ranged weapons have gone, and they have to attack uphill into a group of seven to ten sharpened sticks, they'll think twice."

He considered that for a moment and then nodded. "That might work." He stood. "I'll have some of the men make spears."

He walked away and I leaned back against the tree and relaxed, being happy that things had turned out the way they had.

My original plan had been to take Cassia and Agusaya along as I continued my travels once it became too noticeable that I didn't age. However, in the little more than ten years it took me to be mentally ready to throw my life as Zabu away, they had worked as healers under Kherta and with that in addition to their natural beauty, they had lots of suitors, resulting in them getting married. Kherta had also moved up the social ladder and when I left, she was one of the city's high priestesses.

Hallutush was still king and unlike his predecessor, he had no less than three sons, two of them with Merit and the last with a Babylonian princess.

All in all, everything was as good as could be, so I loaded two ships with goods and sailed to Dvārakā, where I sold half the goods. Wanting to travel lighter, I didn't buy new wares, but traded them for gems, gold and sealed letters of credit to several trading houses in Kashi. Since I had planned on going there anyway, that suited me just fine.

Then I had the rest of the goods loaded into a local ship under the command of Captain Mitra and continued my journey... which had ended on this rocky strip of coast, with my wares gone. Not that they mattered that much. I had enough valuables in the belt to continue my journey whenever we got to Kashi and that Captain Mitra and as much of the crew as possible survived this mattered more than some tin and wine.

-------

Evening and night came and went without any disturbances, and when I checked on Puru the next morning, his leg had improved a lot.

"Am I the only one who thinks that this is going suspiciously well?" asked Captain Mitra after we had finished eating a breakfast consisting of fruit and meat.

I shook my head. "No, you're not. I'll go scout and then you guys can pack up the camp. Leave everything too heavy."

Mitra smiled. "No worries. I'm not going to drag some useless piece of crap through unknown terrain while looking for snakes."

"Good call," I told him and took my pack, strung the bow and sneaked off.

The morning was almost gone when I returned, shaking my head. I hadn't encountered a single person on my scouting trip. Only snakes, a few pigs and the tiger from the day before, but otherwise it had been as peaceful as a walk in the gardens of Pi-Ramesses.

I had even found some markers that I assumed were left there so the locals could find their way to the bay without having to navigate the jungle too much.

"Let's move out," I told Mitra. "It doesn't get more peaceful than this."

He nodded, signaled to the crew and then we were off.

--------

We found the explanation a few days later. Or at least a possible explanation, as the path we had followed led to the smoking ruins of a small fishing village by a river that had been attacked by raiders. It wasn't a pretty sight, as the raiders hadn't just looted. There were dead bodies all over the place. Some burned, others just killed and discarded. All of them showed signs of having been hit by real weapons. Swords, axes and maces, not improvised weapons made from tools.

Normally after a raid, it was possible to find at least some survivors, but these raiders had been extraordinarily thorough, leaving nothing alive in the village.

"This is not normal," declared a pale-faced Mitra as we were assessing the damage. "It wasn't just a raid, it was extermination."

I just nodded. Even the goats and cattle had been killed, but unlike the unlucky inhabitants, the heads and innards had been left on the ground, and I assumed the rest had been loaded into the ships.

"And why leave the fishing boats?" asked one of the sailors, pointing in the direction of three boats that had been dragged onto solid ground.

The captain sighed. "Because there's nobody left to use them, and they can't take them along. My guess is that they have damaged the hulls enough to make them useless."

The carpenter and Puru went to check, while we searched the ruins, finding nothing but death and a well filled with the remains of dead animals and people.

"This is going to stink like nothing else in a day or two," Mitra remarked as he looked over the village. "I hope these boats are in reasonable shape, because if we have to repair them, we will have to throw the bodies in the river to prevent the stink."

I nodded in agreement as I noticed something.

One of the nearest bodies was missing an ear, and from the look of it, the ear had been cut off after death. Looking around, I discovered that every single corpse was missing the right ear.

"Proof of killing the village," Mitra explained with a sigh. "The same happened a few years ago further south. A local chief was offended that a village paid tribute to another chief, so the whole village was exterminated to make a point." He looked around. "The same might have happened here."

"A bad idea doesn't become better by being repeated," I said while looking around. "A raid, I can understand. Taking the whole village and selling them as slaves, I can understand. But this..." I gestured toward a corpse of someone who had clearly been killed slowly. "... this is cruel, evil and stupid."

Mitra looked like he was going to ask a question, but then he saw my face and changed his mind, which was likely for the best. I was in no mood to answer questions.

The carpenter came back with the only piece of good news. The raiders had indeed damaged the boats, but he could fix two of them by sacrificing the third, which would give us two functional boats.

"How long will it take?"

"A day." He shrugged. "They did a bad job."

"Take two men to help you and do it. We need to get out of here," Mitra said. "We'll remove the corpses, so they don't start to stink."

That made several of the sailors volunteer to help with the boats. Mitra selected those who had thrown up the most and sent them off, before looking at the rest of us.

"Well, no time like the present."

It was dirty, bloody and unpleasant work that took most of the day, but we got it done, and I had just sent the last corpse on its final journey with a whispered "Pax et bonnum "(Baylon. 'Peace and Salvation.'), when one of the others shouted.

I didn't get what the words were, but the warning was clear, and as I looked up, I saw three boats coming downstream in the evening light.

They were not small fishing boats, but full-sized riverboats, and from what I could see, there were at least ten armed men in each boat.

"Run!" Captain Mitra shouted. "Now!"

There was no hesitation among the men. They dropped everything and ran as fast as they could toward the path we had taken to arrive here, while I walked behind one of the half-burned huts and started to string my bow.

"Follow them," I ordered Mitra as I finished. "I'll make sure they don't follow you. Don't go too far. It'll be dark soon."

The half-burned hut had enough gaps for me to see the riverbank, where one of the riverboats had driven itself up onto the mud and armed men were jumping down. One of them pointed in the direction of Mitra and the last few sailors.

"Survivors! Get them!"

The rest of them howled.

I shook my head. It felt like I had suddenly become part of a bad theater piece where the villains had over-the-top stupid lines.

Mitra began to run as I lifted the bow and took two quick steps to the side to give myself a clear line of sight.

The first arrow sent a bowman staggering backward with an arrow through the chest. The next hit the other bowman in the mouth, killing him instantly.

The three foremost raiders sprinted toward me, seemingly convinced that they could reach me before I could get another arrow in the air. They were both wrong and right.

Wrong, because I did have time for it.

Right, because I chose not to.

With the limited number of arrows I had, they would be reserved for bowmen and men with throwing spears, not swordsmen.

So instead of shooting another arrow, I stepped behind the hut again as I shifted the bow to my other hand and drew Shadow Fang.

-------

The first man fell screaming to the ground as I struck under his swing and took off his leg at the knee. The second didn't fare much better, as a quick step backward brought me out of range of his sword and the counterattack neatly cut through his beard and throat. The third had taken the slightly longer route around the other side of the hut and arrived just in time to meet his death when Shadow Fang pierced his heart.

Then I walked back to the man with the missing lower leg and knelt beside him so I could lay a hand on him, ignoring the terror in his eyes.

A light mind reading was all it took to confirm that they were indeed the same group that had killed everyone in the village, and that they had done it again in the next village upstream.

That was all I had time for, as I could hear shouting and men moving along the riverbank, so I moved away from him, considered the situation for a moment, and then killed him. There was no way he would survive losing a leg like that, and killing him now would spare him from hours, if not days, of suffering.

Having done what I intended, I walked into the forest.

With five of them gone, they would want revenge, and I wanted them to stay so we could take the boats. Not that there was much chance of them leaving now. I had not killed enough of them to make them panic, only enough to make them angry, and it was becoming dark. Navigating a river in darkness was always a bad idea, and anybody arriving on a riverboat would know that.

Once inside the darkness of the forest, I found the scarf from my pack and wrapped it around my head.

It was going to be a bloody night.

-------

It was almost midmorning before Mitra and the rest of the crew showed up again, and by then I was sitting on a large stone, eating breakfast.

He walked over to me with wide eyes as he looked around at the empty ruin of a village, the dark stains of blood on the sand, and the three riverboats secured on the riverbank.

"Do I want to know, sir?" he asked quietly as he came to stand by the stone.

I shrugged lightly. "Depends on what question you're asking." I sent him a smile. "If you think some sort of magic did this, think again. Sneaking and sharp knives are to blame for this... along with a well-placed arrow or two."

"Are they all dead?"

"No, there are two bound younglings in the boat to the right," I told him, gesturing toward it. "Boys, really."

The two had been part of the boat crew, not the attackers, and since they had surrendered, I had spared them. Especially as a quick reading of their minds told me that they had not taken part in the killing and were just as horrified by the slaughter of the villagers as any sane person would be.

"I don't really know what to do with them," I continued. "But I had considered sending them downstream so they could tell their chieftain that killing villages is not acceptable."

"That... might work," he admitted. "If you supply proof, that is, so they're not just accused of stealing the boat and sailing away in a panic."

"The thirty heads in the boat should provide proof enough," I said dryly and handed him a piece of cold meat. "Breakfast?"

He looked at me open-mouthed, ignoring the meat as he asked, "You stacked the heads in the boat?"

"Stacking might be a bit too generous. I just threw them in there." I shrugged. "I had to do something with the bodies, so they didn't start to rot, and I knew that proof was needed. Heads seemed like a good idea. Large enough to make a spectacle, not as grisly as cutting off ears." I thought for a moment. "And by the way, the reason they returned from upstream was that in the time it took us to get from the bay to here, they had wiped out the next village as well and were on their way back."

"May the Gods stri..." Mitra cursed, cutting himself off halfway with an odd chuckle. Then he shrugged. "I guess it's too late to wish the Gods to strike them dead."

That made me chuckle as well. "Yes, but not too late to ask Yama to treat them with less respect than most other people."

"There is that," he admitted and looked around. "I guess you gave their bodies to the river?"

"Better than leaving them for the dogs and pigs," I said and changed the subject. "Tell the crew that we have plenty of food and waterskins, so they should eat. After that, they can take a bronze weapon each. That should help them recover."

Real bronze swords and axes were expensive and in high demand, so it was something they could sell when we reached Kashi and help them get back on their feet again.

"That is generous of you."

I snorted. "It's not like I have anything to use twenty axes and ten swords for. They need them more than I do." I smiled a little. "We load the rest of the weapons into the boats and sell them in Kashi. That should be just enough for you to buy a new ship. You will owe half of it, and the crew will owe the other half. That should work out fine."

Just to be on the safe side, I handed him a pearl. The leader of the raiders had had three on him and it wasn't like he had any use for them where he was going. "Here. The leader had this."

He accepted it and then blinked in surprise a few times as he realized what I had given him. Then he looked up at me.

"Don't protest," I said mildly before he could form the words. "I found three and kept two. That seems fair to me. If it makes you feel better, consider it payment. I have no intention of rowing or handling the sails on the trip to Kashi. That is going to be you and your crew."

He laughed and shook his head. "Yes, sir."

The next few glass went with preparations. The crew had breakfast, weapons were chosen, and the rest were loaded into one of the riverboats. Mitra had a couple of the men free the boys in the last boat, which was then pushed into the water with instructions to tell their chieftain that if he wanted to avoid a similar fate, he needed to stop sending men upriver to kill innocent villagers.

Then we loaded the rest of the food and water into the two remaining boats, raised the sails, and took off in the direction of Kashi, hoping to avoid any more trouble on the way there. If fate decided otherwise, at least the raiders had supplied me with arrows enough.

------------------------------------------

Kashi

The teaching courtyard of the Gurukola ('School') lay in the morning shade between the reciting hall and the students' sleeping rooms, enclosed on three sides by low brick walls and wooden pillars that held up a roofed walkway. The ground had been swept smooth before sunrise, leaving the packed earth flat enough for drawing lines with a stick, and several reed mats had been laid out in a half-circle where the students could sit without crowding each other. A clay water jar stood near one of the pillars with a dipper beside it, and a shallow basket filled with small clay cubes waited at my feet. Beyond the courtyard, I could hear other lessons being recited in steady voices, along with the faint scrape of brooms, the call of birds from the roof beams, and the distant sounds of the harbour waking under the sun.

The students looked very concentrated as I picked up one of the small clay cubes and placed it on the ground. "This cube is exactly one angula on each side."

They nodded slowly, their eyes not leaving the clay cube.

I picked up another one and placed it next to the first one. "Now, how far is there from one end to another?"

"Two angula, Guru Iravan," Devavrata said, sounding just a little like I was telling him something he had learned a decade ago, which it most likely was. He was one of the older students, already more a young man than a boy.

I placed ten more end to end. "And now?"

"Twelve," he answered without hesitation, smiling slightly as he added, "also known as a vitasti."

"Good." I smiled and placed three more, this time so they formed an L shape, with twelve cubes on the long side and four on the short side. "Do we agree that this side has four cubes?"

They all nodded, so I continued. "How many cubes will I have to use in total to fill out the rest of the shape?"

Some of the students frowned, but most smiled and Maitreyi, one of the two young girls, raised her hand.

I nodded in her direction. "Yes?"

"Forty-eight cubes."

"Why?"

"Because you have twelve rows of four. Four times twelve is forty-eight," she told me, secure in her answer.

"Correct." I looked at the others. "Does this make sense to you as well?"

"Yes, Guru Iravan," they all said in chorus, and to my enjoyment, they were all speaking the truth.

"Fantastic." I quickly added three more cubes, building a four-cube high tower where the long and short part of the L-shape met. "Now, let's pretend that this is a box. One side is four angula long, the other side is twelve angula long and, as you can see, there are four cubes from bottom to top. How many cubes would it take to fill this box?"

Devavrata frowned and then started to scribble in the sand. A moment later, he looked up. "One hundred and ninety-two."

"How did you reach that number?" I asked with a little smile.

He hesitated but then said, "If each layer takes forty-eight cubes and we have four layers, that is four times forty-eight, which is one hundred and ninety-two."

Nodding, I looked at the other students. "Since each layer is four times twelve, we have forty-eight per layer, and since we have four layers, that is four times forty-eight, or one hundred and ninety-two cubes. Does this still make sense to you all?"

"Yes, Guru Iravan," they chorused.

"Very good." I smiled and stood. "Follow me."

They rose from their mats, and as we walked towards the reciting hall, I said, "The important thing about all this is that once you understand the idea, everything becomes much easier."

I stopped and gestured at the reciting hall. "How long is this building... and don't say you don't know." I chuckled. "You've been sweeping the floor in there for more than a year."

A ripple of humor ran through the students, and finally Satyaka, a quiet boy with serious eyes and a habit of thinking before he spoke, said, "Forty hasta."

"And how wide?"

"Twenty hasta," answered Aruni, who was younger than Devavrata but had the restless look of someone whose mind often arrived before his manners.

"So how much area does it cover?"

"Twenty times forty," Maitreyi answered and frowned as she calculated.

Devavrata was faster. "Eight hundred hasta."

"Eight hundred square hasta," I corrected gently. "A length is not the same thing as an area. If we measure from one wall to another, we speak of hasta. If we measure the floor itself, we speak of square hasta."

They nodded, and several of them looked at the reciting hall with the expression of people who had seen the same thing many times before and had suddenly discovered that it could be used for something.

"Exactly," I told them with a smile. "However, the only ones who really care about the floor area of the reciting hall are..." I looked around as if searching for people who might be listening and lowered my voice as I said, "the other gurus."

That brought some smiles out.

I turned to look at the hall again. "However, this building is almost exactly the same size as the warehouses by the harbour, except the warehouses are ten hasta high." I smiled and held up a hand. "So how many boxes of one hasta on each side could we place in that warehouse, using the same principle as with the clay cubes? And as usual, do not answer until I lower my hand."

Not all of them were equally fast when it came to calculating in the head, so I waited a while until most of them looked up. Then I lowered my hand. "Yes?"

"Eight thousand," several students said at the same time.

"Eight thousand cubic hasta," I said. "Because now we are not measuring length, and we are not measuring floor. We are measuring space."

They nodded again, and this time the understanding was deeper. They were no longer merely following the clay cubes. They were seeing the building itself as a box, and the warehouse as a larger box, and that was the step I had wanted them to take.

"Very good." I smiled. "Now let's go back and calculate how much the ships can hold, so we can figure out how many ships it takes to fill a warehouse."

-------

When the morning's lessons were over, I walked back 'home', which was the guest house the Merchant-Noble Nanda had provided me with.

It had been a surprise to see him alive and well, considering it had been forty years since I had last visited Kashi. Back then, I had helped protect both him and Dashala, his pregnant wife, against river pirates. Afterwards he had persuaded me to stay until his wife gave birth, which had turned out to be a wise precaution on his part, as the childbirth had become problematic to say the least.

In the end, I had sent the local healers out of the room and, with Nanda and Shava, the concubine he had given me, as my helpers, used the last resort known to me. Carefully, I had cut Dashala's stomach, removed his son, and sewn Dashala together again, before using just enough Vis healing to ensure that she would survive the treatment, but not so much that it would seem like an obvious miracle or divine intervention.

To Nanda, of course, it had still been a miracle and one of reasons he was convinced I was a Yaksha, a semi-divine or supernatural being who helped people from time to time when it suited them, and seeing me look the same forty years later had only made that belief settle deeper into him. From his point of view, I had not returned to Kashi so much as appeared there again, unchanged by age and once more proving that he had been right about me all along.

To make it worse, the Goddess of Luck had arranged matters so that I had arrived while Mālatī, the wife of Satyaka, the son I had saved, was pregnant again and due in a few months. Naturally, my reappearance made Nanda assume that the child would be a boy this time, after the two previous children had been daughters.

He was both right and wrong, as the first time I had examined Mālatī I had discovered that she was expecting twins. A boy and a girl. Just like Pandora and me, and my own children, Ivanka and Kaeso.

At times like that, I could almost hear the Goddess laugh while pulling the strings to put me into amusing situations. Amusing for her, that is. I found the whole thing more than a little embarrassing.

Fortunately, Nanda had remembered that I did not like receiving gifts unless I felt I had earned them and had kept his generosity to a minimum. His minimum, not mine. I had been given silk clothes, a place to live that was even more luxurious than the guest wing I had stayed in last time, and a small team of servants who made sure I never lacked anything to eat or drink.

He had tried to give me a concubine as well, apparently because Yakshas were rumored to have a healthy sexual appetite, but this time I could and did politely reject the offer. It had turned out well last time, but that was no guarantee it would turn out well again.

It was also Nanda who arranged for me to become a guest teacher at the Gurukola, after we had talked about ships and warehouses one evening and I had let slip that I needed something to do to keep my mind occupied.

All in all, I could not really complain about the situation, but it still felt like a trap was closing around me while I was being pampered.

Looking forward to some relaxation, I walked into the garden of the Nanda estate and started toward the guest house.

I made it halfway there before I was attacked.

Not by armed men but by Irā, Satyaka's six-year-old daughter, who came running at me. She hit my legs at full speed, wrapped both arms around one of them, and looked up at me with a delighted smile.

"Iravan! You're back!"

I grinned at her happiness and lifted her up on my arm. "Of course I'm back. I was at the Gurukola to teach, not travelling far away."

She pouted as she looked at me. "You were still gone."

With my free hand, I gently pulled her nose and chuckled when she grimaced. "Yes, but no matter how much you wish it, I cannot focus on you all the time."

Irā looked as if she seriously considered that for a moment, before she finally nodded. "I guess that is how the world is."

It sounded so wise, especially coming from a six-year-old, that I laughed as I carried her through an arch of flowers and suddenly discovered that I had walked straight into a family gathering.

Nanda and Dashala were sitting by a low table, talking with Mālatī, Satyaka's pregnant wife and Irā's mother. A few servants stood nearby, close enough to be useful and far enough away to pretend they were not listening, which in my experience meant they were listening very carefully indeed.

"Look!" Irā declared with a big smile when she saw them. "I found Iravan!"

"I see that," Mālatī said, her smile softening as she looked at her daughter in my arms. "Though I had begun to suspect he was not truly lost."

"He was," Irā insisted. "He was at the Gurukola."

Nanda's eyes warmed with amusement. "A dangerous place. Many men have entered such houses of learning and returned changed."

"As long as the change is for the better," I chuckled, shifting Irā a little more comfortably on my arm. "And I have hope for my students in that regard."

My eyes drifted over to Satyaka, who, as usual, did not say much when I was around. Then again, I supposed it was difficult to find something meaningful to say to a man who had cut your mother open to get you out, sewn her together again, and then appeared forty years later looking much the same as he had in the stories told about your birth.

Satyaka noticed me looking and bowed his head slightly, which was his usual answer to the problem. Polite, respectful and just distant enough to avoid getting trapped in a conversation where every ordinary sentence carried too much weight.

"Dad," Irā said from my arm, as if she had suddenly remembered that other people existed. "Iravan says he cannot focus on me all the time."

Satyaka looked at his daughter, and for a moment the seriousness left his face. "That seems reasonable."

Irā frowned. "I do not think it is reasonable."

"No," Mālatī said with the calm authority of a mother who had fought this war before. "You think reasonable means getting what you want."

Irā considered that, then leaned closer to my ear and whispered loudly enough for most of the garden to hear. "Mother says that when she has no better argument."

Mālatī closed her eyes for a heartbeat.

Dashala laughed softly, and Nanda's beard shifted with the smile he tried to hide.

I looked solemnly at Irā. "Your mother is wise. If she says that, then she probably has an excellent argument she is saving for later."

Irā opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly unsure whether I had defended her or betrayed her. "Is that good or bad?"

"You'll find out when you get older and she uses the argument," I said with a chuckle and sat Irā down on the ground, before looking over at Mālatī, taking in the way she sat, the heaviness of her belly and the way she seemed to have trouble breathing. "Mālatī, may I ask when the midwife told you that you were due?"

She smiled a little. "Any day now."

Tilting my head a little, I asked. "May I examine you?"

The garden became dead silent for a moment.

Her eyes widened. "Why? Is there anything wrong?"

I shook my head with a smile. "Not as far as I know, but you seem somewhat short of breath for someone sitting down."

Nanda nodded shortly and raised his voice. "Leave us."

The servants nodded and left the garden, as I walked over to her.

"No worries. This won't take long, won't hurt, and I'll try not to tickle you."

She blinked a few times and laughed a little. "I will hold you to that."

I smiled and crouched in front of her, careful to keep my movements slow enough that neither she nor Satyaka had reason to think I was worried.

"First, breathe normally."

"That is what I am trying to do," Mālatī said, which made Dashala smile despite the tension.

"A fair answer." I chuckled and took her wrist first, resting two fingers against the pulse. It was a little fast, but not wildly so, and the rhythm was steady. Her skin was warm without being feverish, and when I turned her hand over, the colour in her palm was healthy.

"Now take a deep breath."

She did, though not as deeply as I would have liked, and I watched the movement of her chest, shoulders and belly. There was no sharp pain on her face and no catching in the breath that I could hear from where I crouched. Mostly, she looked like a woman near the end of pregnancy, with the child sitting high enough to make breathing more work than it ought to be.

Since there was no way of knowing If both children would survive the pregnancy and birth, I haven't told her or any of the family that she was carrying twins, but it was the cause of her being sort of breath.

Still, there wasn't a problem, so I looked at Mālatī and Satyaka. "Everything is as it should be, and the midwife was right. It can happen any day now." I thought for a moment. "My best guess is tonight, but life has its own rules."

Mālatī placed a hand on her belly, and Satyaka watched me with the stiff, controlled expression of a man trying not to hear more fear than I had actually spoken.

"Tonight?" he asked.

"Perhaps," I said. "Perhaps tomorrow." I sent her a smile. "Children have terrible manners when it comes to schedules."

That earned me a small smile from Mālatī, which was good. Fear was easier to work with when people could still smile.

"What should be done?" Nanda asked.

"Nothing foolish," I said. "Send for the midwife. She will most likely tell you to have clean cloth prepared, water boiled and allowed to cool, lamps filled, sharp knives cleaned, and fresh cord ready for tying the birth-cord if needed. Mālatī should rest, eat lightly if she can, and not be surrounded by people staring at her belly as if it might answer questions."

Irā, who had been staring at her mother's belly with exactly that expression, looked offended.

I pointed gently at her. "That includes you."

She frowned. "I was not asking it questions."

"Not out loud."

That made Mālatī laugh softly, though she had to stop halfway through and breathe again.

I watched the movement of her shoulders and the tightness around her mouth. "Rest," I said. "Not because something is wrong, but because birth is work, and it is better to begin work after resting than after worrying."

She nodded, and Satyaka helped her stand with the careful attention of a man handling something more precious than bronze, gold or polished stone.

Nanda had already turned toward one of the archways. "I will send for the midwife."

"And tell the servants not to run," I added.

He glanced back at me.

"If they run, everyone else will think there is trouble. There is not. There is only work that should be done before the result is needed."

Nanda gave a short nod. "Slow feet. Fast hands."

"That is usually best."

Dashala rose and came to Mālatī's other side. Her face was controlled, but her eyes were full of memories she did not need to speak aloud. She touched my arm as she passed me.

"Will you be nearby?"

I nodded. "I will be in the guest house."

That was enough for her. She nodded and went with Mālatī and Satyaka, while Irā followed them with the grave expression of a child who had just been given a position of enormous importance and no actual authority.

For a moment I remained where I was, listening to the garden settle around the news. Then I walked to the guesthouse and went directly to bed.

------------------------------------------

Birth

As I had expected, a servant woke me before the evening meal, asking me if I could come to the main building where the birth had started.

With a slight smile, I took my case with acupuncture needles and followed her to Mālatī and Satyaka's bedroom, which had become the center of activity in the house for the evening.

Servants moved in and out with cloth, warm water, oil lamps, clean mats and quiet faces. The corridor outside the room smelled of smoke, hot water, sandalwood and the sharp nervous scent of people trying not to be afraid.

Inside the room, Mālatī sat propped against cushions on the wide bed, her hair unbound and damp near the temples. She was breathing carefully, not yet with the hard rhythm of full labour, but with the controlled discomfort of a woman who knew that the road had opened beneath her feet and could no longer be refused. Satyaka knelt beside her, one hand in hers, silent as usual, though this time his silence had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the memory that had lived in him since before he was old enough to understand it.

Two women stood near the bed.

The older one turned as soon as I entered.

She was short, broad-hipped, grey-haired and solidly built, with the face of a woman who had spent most of her life telling frightened families what to do and expecting to be obeyed. Her arms were bare to the elbow, her hands scrubbed clean, and the lines around her mouth deepened the moment she saw me.

"No," she said.

It was not a question.

The younger woman beside her was perhaps twenty-five, perhaps a little older, with dark hair tied back and a bundle of clean cloth held against her chest. She was also gorgeous, with large dark eyes, a fine nose and full lips. She looked from the midwife to me, then quickly down again, choosing silence with the good sense of someone who knew where authority stood in the room.

The older midwife pointed toward the door. "He cannot be here."

Mālatī's fingers tightened around Satyaka's hand.

Nanda, who had followed me in, stopped just inside the door. "Vaidikā."

The midwife did not look at him. "Merchant-Noble, I have delivered children in this house and half the houses that matter in Kashi. I have buried some too. A man does not stand in the birthing room."

"I have stood in one before," I said dryly. "This is not special."

That made her look at me properly and for a moment there was only the sound of Mālatī breathing and the soft crackle of an oil lamp.

"I know who you are," the midwife said at last.

"I'm Iravan."

Her eyes narrowed. "You are the foreign healer Nanda speaks of."

"I am a healer," I said, relieved that Nanda haven't revealed to anyone that he thought that I was a Yaksha. "The rest depends on who is speaking."

"You are a man."

"Yes." I shrugged slightly. "What is your point?"

"This is women's work."

"Mostly."

That was apparently not the answer she wanted, because her mouth tightened further.

Mālatī drew a slow breath and said, "Vaidikā, I asked for him."

The midwife turned back to her. "You are frightened."

"Yes," Mālatī said, and there was no shame in her voice. "I am also not stupid."

Satyaka lowered his head slightly, as if the words had struck somewhere too deep for speech.

The older midwife looked at him, then at Dashala, who had entered quietly behind us and now stood near the wall with her hands folded before her.

Vaidikā looked back at me. "You will not touch her unless I say."

"I will not interfere with ordinary birth," I said. "If this is ordinary, I will sit there, remain quiet, and be grateful for your skill. If it becomes dangerous, I will help."

"That is not how a birthing room is ordered."

"It is how mine is ordered." I said mildly but made sure she could hear the certainty in my voice.

Nanda's beard shifted, not quite a smile, but close enough that I noticed.

The younger midwife glanced up, eyes wide, then looked down at the cloth again.

Vaidikā stared at me for several heartbeats. Then she looked at Mālatī. "Do you consent to this?"

Mālatī gave a short nod. "Yes."

"And if he says something different from me?"

Mālatī's face tightened as another wave of pain moved through her. She breathed through it, gripping Satyaka's hand hard enough that his knuckles paled. When it passed, she opened her eyes.

"Then I will listen to both of you," she said. "And decide if I can. If I can't, Dashala will."

Vaidikā made a sound in her throat that might have been irritation or reluctant approval. "Men bring trouble into rooms because they think pain is a problem to solve."

"Pain is information," I said.

This time she almost smiled. Almost. "Then sit. Listen to the information."

I sat where she pointed, on a low stool near the wall, close enough to observe, far enough away not to crowd the work and to the side, so I wasn't looking directly up between Mālatī's legs. Leaning against the wall, I placed the case of needles beside my foot, unopened, where everyone could see it and no one could think I was hiding anything.

The younger midwife came forward with water. She knelt beside Mālatī, dipped a cloth, wrung it out and laid it across Mālatī's forehead with careful hands and a delicate tough that caught my attention even more than her beauty.

"What is your name?" I asked her.

She froze for a heartbeat, then glanced at Vaidikā.

"Anupamā," she said softly.

"A good name," I said. "Your hands are steady."

Her cheeks coloured, and she looked down again.

Vaidikā gave me a look that suggested I should not distract her assistant by being kind at inconvenient moments.

I accepted the correction and stayed quiet.

For a while, there was nothing dramatic, which was the best kind of birth. Mālatī breathed, sweated, gripped Satyaka's hand, and endured. Vaidikā watched her with the fierce attention of a commander reading the field, one hand on Mālatī's belly now and then, the other checking cloth, water, posture and pulse with practiced efficiency. Anupamā said almost nothing, but she was always where she needed to be before Vaidikā asked twice.

I watched too.

Strange as it might seem, male Ars Mentalis Healers were trained more thoroughly in midwifery than female Healers. Mostly because Ars Mentalis worked by healing yourself. If you needed to heal someone else, you first had to transfer the wound to yourself using a technique called Tralativa, and then heal it there.

That worked for most injuries, but it had limits. It was impossible to transfer damage to a body part you did not have, and I could not use Ars Mentalis to take damage from a womb or other parts of the female anatomy into myself the way a female Healer could.

Thus, I had been trained in midwifery as a separate discipline, because childbirth was the most common serious danger women faced outside Baylon, and one of the few I could not solve with Ars Mentalis.

So, I did exactly what my training dictated and used eyes, ears and experience. Mālatī's breathing was strained but not wrong. Her colour was good. Her pains came with order. The room was warm but not stifling. The lamps had been placed well. The bed coverings were clean. Vaidikā might dislike me, but she knew her work, and that mattered far more than whether she liked my face.

After some time, Mālatī turned her head toward me, sweat shining along her cheek.

"You are very quiet," she said.

"I was ordered to listen to the information."

Even Vaidikā's mouth twitched at that.

Mālatī managed a breathless laugh, which turned into a groan as the next pain took her. Satyaka bent closer, murmuring something too soft for me to hear. She held onto him and rode through it, shoulders trembling, jaw clenched, breath hissing through her teeth.

When it passed, Vaidikā looked at me. "You have seen births before," she said.

I nodded. "Yes."

"How many?"

"Enough to respect those who do it well."

That answer did not satisfy her curiosity, but it satisfied something else. She nodded once, sharply, and turned back to Mālatī.

"Good," she said without looking at me. "Then you know when to keep quiet."

I was silent as my attention shifted to the things the midwife had lined up. The cloth, the water, the cord and the knife. Then I sighed as I realized what had been bugging me. Everything was ready for one baby, not two.

Quietly, I stood and walked to the midwife's side, stopping close enough that I could speak without the others hearing, but not so close that I crowded her work.

"Remove yourself," Vaidikā whispered in what was almost a hiss.

Ignoring her, I quietly said, "In case you..."

"I said..." she interrupted, causing me to move closer to her ear and add mental power to my next word. "Listen."

Her mouth closed, and for a moment she looked almost offended by her own obedience, but I ignored that and continued in a low voice. "In case you missed it, there are two babies. You need more cloth and cord."

Vaidikā remained still for a moment, as I walked back to my seat.

Not long enough for the others to notice, perhaps, but long enough for me to see the thought strike, settle, and begin rearranging the room in her mind.

Her eyes moved to Mālatī's belly and then to Mālatī's face, before they went to the cloths, the water, the lamps, the space around the bed, and the young woman waiting by the jars.

"Anupamā," she said.

The younger midwife straightened at once. "Yes?"

"More cloth. More warm water. Another cord. Another knife, clean. Put them where I can reach them, not where the house thinks they look tidy."

Anupamā's eyes widened, but she did not ask why. Her gaze flicked once toward Mālatī's belly, then toward me, and then back to Vaidikā. Whatever she had heard, and she had clearly heard enough, she was wise enough not to make it heavier by speaking.

"Yes," she said quietly, and moved.

Vaidikā leaned closer to Mālatī and put both hands on her belly, slow and firm, testing the weight and shape beneath the skin. After a moment she looked over her shoulder at me and gave a short nod, before turning back to Mālatī.

"Breathe when the pain comes. Do not fight it before it arrives. Save your strength. We may need more of it than I first thought."

Mālatī looked at her for a heartbeat, then nodded.

Satyaka bent closer and murmured something to her, too soft for me to hear. Whatever it was, it helped. Her grip on his hand tightened, but her breathing steadied.

After that, I mostly just watched.

Vaidikā handled the birth with calm efficiency. Anupamā brought cloth, water and tools when needed, speaking only when Vaidikā asked her something directly. Dashala remained near Mālatī's shoulder, wiping sweat from her face and helping her drink between the contractions. Nanda had been sent out early, which was wise. He would only have added another worried face to a room that already had enough of them.

Then the contractions started for real, causing Mālatī to look at me with frightened eyes, gasping "Iravan!"

Standing, I nodded and opened my needle case. "May I?"

Mālatī nodded and I walked over to her, staying out of Vaidikā's workspace as I placed three needles, activating each one with a small burst of Vis as it settled. One to steady her breathing, one to ease the pain a little, and one to settle the rhythm of her body. It was nothing dramatic, but it gave her a little less work to do.

Vaidikā watched the effect, gave a short nod, and continued.

The boy came first. He was wet, red and furious, and announced himself loudly enough that everyone outside the room probably heard him. Vaidikā cleared his mouth, checked him quickly, tied and cut the cord, then handed him to Anupamā to be cleaned and wrapped.

Satyaka stared at him without speaking, while Mālatī began to cry, though not from fear now.

"Do not spend all your strength on that," Vaidikā said. "There is another."

For a moment, both Mālatī and Satyaka simply stared at her.

Satyaka looked from the wrapped boy in Anupamā's arms to Mālatī's belly, while Mālatī blinked as if her exhausted mind needed a moment understand that the work was not finished.

Then another contraction rippled through her, and the room returned to what mattered.

The girl took longer, but not dangerously so. Vaidikā changed Mālatī's position, waited through two pains, then guided the child out with the same steady hands.

She was quieter than her brother at first, which made the room hold its breath for a moment, but Vaidikā cleared her mouth and rubbed her back until she gave a small, angry cry.

"Good," Vaidikā said with a satisfied smile.

I silently agreed as I checked the things that mattered. The afterbirth came complete. The bleeding was within reason. Mālatī was exhausted, pale and shaking, but alive and clear-eyed.

Satisfied, I walked over and removed the needles from Mālatī. They had done their job and from now on they would just be in the way.

Vaidikā watched me do it and nodded.

"You may be useful," she said with a faint smile. "Even if you are a man."

"I try," I smiled.

She snorted. "You also talk when told to be quiet."

"That makes two of us," I said with a chuckle, causing Anupamā to look down quickly, but not before I saw the smile.

Mālatī lay back against the cushions with one child on each side of her. The boy was still complaining softly at the world. The girl had already quieted, her tiny face turned toward warmth.

Satyaka sat beside them, one hand on Mālatī's shoulder and the other hovering near the children as if he was afraid to touch them without permission.

Dashala touched his arm. "They are yours. You may touch them."

He swallowed, then laid two fingers very gently against his son's cheek.

That was when Vaidikā stood and looked toward the door.

"Tell Nanda before he destroys the floor outside."

------------

I didn't linger for long after that but offered my congratulations and walked back to the guesthouse. Parents of newborn children needed their family more than they needed an audience, and after spending hours in a room filled with heat, tension, sweat, blood, frightened relatives and two newly arrived voices, I was more than happy to leave them to the quieter business of becoming a family.

The house might have been built to breathe, with high ceilings, wide openings and lattice shutters that encouraged every available movement of air, but this part of Bharat was almost as hot as Kemet and considerably more humid. Kemetian heat usually dried the sweat almost as quickly as it appeared, while here the air seemed determined to wear it with me. By the time I reached the guesthouse, the thin cloth against my body felt unpleasantly damp, my hair was sticky at the temples, and after sitting in Mālatī's bedroom for hours I wanted nothing more complicated than water.

Thus, I stripped almost as soon as I entered the guesthouse and stepped down into the pool, letting the cooler water close over my legs, hips and finally my chest before I leaned back against the smooth edge with a long breath of relief. The heat remained in the air above me, carrying the scent of flowers, wet earth and distant cooking fires, but beneath the surface the accumulated warmth finally began to leave my body.

Even with the added complication of twins, it had been a good birth, and there was no doubt in my mind that Vaidikā and her beautiful assistant could have handled it without my presence. Despite her grumpiness, or perhaps partly because of it, Vaidikā was a skilled and competent midwife who had spent enough years watching childbirth go well and badly to understand that panic was merely another problem in a room that already had enough of them. An unexpected second baby would have surprised her, certainly, but she would simply have adjusted, reorganized the room and continued doing what needed to be done.

A knock on the front door disturbed my thoughts.

For a moment, I considered ignoring it. The water was cool, my muscles were finally relaxing, and whoever wanted me could presumably survive long enough to knock twice. Then the knock came again, firmer this time, with the persistent rhythm of someone who knew I was inside and had no intention of returning to whoever had sent them without an answer.

Probably one of Nanda's servants.

With a quiet sigh, I pushed myself out of the pool. Fortunately, people here dressed sensibly for the climate, and the principal lower garment was a simple wrapped cloth called a *paridhana*, which could be pleated or folded around the waist and added very little to the heat.

I wrapped one around myself, pulled it secure at the waist and walked toward the door while water continued to run from my hair and shoulders.

I really needed to stop doing that, I decided a moment later, because I opened the door expecting a servant and instead found myself standing face to face with Vaidikā and Anupamā.

Vaidikā's eyes moved over me once with the complete lack of interest of a woman evaluating an inconvenient piece of furniture, while Anupamā's reaction was considerably more flattering. Her large brown eyes reached my face, slipped downward almost immediately, returned to my face with visible effort and then drifted again before she caught herself. The flicker of embarrassment in her expression was accompanied by enough attraction through my mental senses that I had to keep myself from smiling.

"Sorry to disturb you, but do you have a moment to talk?" Vaidikā asked, pointedly ignoring my wet hair and the water still tracing paths down my chest.

"Certainly, as long as you don't expect me to put on more clothes," I said, stepping back from the doorway while the warm air pressed against my wet skin. "It's rather hot outside."

Vaidikā walked past me without hesitation, and Anupamā followed a little more slowly. "I have survived two husbands," Vaidikā said dryly as she entered the house. "I think I can survive the sight of a bare-chested man once more."

I wisely kept silent, closed the door behind them and followed them into the living room, where the open shutters admitted enough moving air to keep the room bearable. Vaidikā chose a chair with the confidence of someone accustomed to entering other people's houses on urgent business, while Anupamā settled slightly behind and beside her teacher. I took another chair opposite them, leaned back enough to keep the wet cloth from sticking unnecessarily to my legs and opened one hand toward Vaidikā.

"So, how may I be of service?"

Another small spike of desire came from Anupamā, probably helped by the fact that I was still dripping water onto my own floor, but I ignored it and kept my attention on Vaidikā. The older woman had settled herself with the compact, self-possessed posture of someone accustomed to being obeyed in rooms where hesitation could kill, while her apprentice sat with her hands folded in her lap and her cheeks still faintly coloured from trying rather too hard not to look at me.

"I'm one of the best midwives here," Vaidikā said without any false modesty, meeting my eyes directly, "and because of that I have several important clients. One of them will go into labour soon, but the child has not turned. I have tried twice to turn it from outside and it refuses. What would you do?"

That caught my attention completely. I leaned forward and rested my forearms on my thighs, the lingering amusement about Anupamā giving way to the older habits drilled into me by people who had taught childbirth as seriously as combat.

"How is it lying?"

"Buttocks down, head high, back along the mother's left side, and the legs are upward," Vaidikā answered immediately, shaping the child's position with one hand against her own abdomen. "She has borne three children already. All living, all head first, and none of the births were difficult."

I pictured the child from her description, buttocks toward the birth passage with both legs stretched upward alongside the body. It was not the position I would have chosen, but there were much worse ways for a child to present.

"Then I would stop trying to turn it and prepare for a breech birth," I said, and the short nod Vaidikā gave me suggested she had already reached much the same conclusion and had come here partly to see whether I would contradict it. "Buttocks first is better than feet first, because the buttocks make a broader passage before the shoulders and head must come through."

Vaidikā rubbed her thumb slowly across two fingers while she considered that. "I have lost children when the feet came first. The legs came easily, and the head did not."

"That is exactly the danger." I raised my hands between us and shaped the child's position in the air, which finally drew Anupamā's attention completely away from my body and onto what I was explaining. "With this one, the important thing is not to become impatient because you can see or touch the child. Let the mother and womb deliver the buttocks and body as far as possible. Support the child when you must, but do not pull simply because there is something to hold."

"I know that much," Vaidikā said, and there was no offence in the correction, only the dry response of a master craftsman establishing where her existing knowledge ended.

"I assumed you did," I replied, acknowledging the point with a slight inclination of my head. "The part I would watch most carefully is what happens once the body has been delivered far enough for the cord to become trapped between the child's head and the mother's pelvis. Before that, patience usually helps. Once that happens and the child is no longer receiving enough blood and air from the mother, time becomes important."

Vaidikā's hands stopped moving, and Anupamā looked toward her teacher and then back to me.

"So that is why some are strong until the body is born," Vaidikā said slowly, and I could almost see older births rearranging themselves in her memory as she attached a reason to something she had already observed.

"Often, yes. Before that point, patience is useful. After it, every delay matters more."

She nodded once, sharply, filing the explanation away.

"If the arms catch?" she asked.

"First, rotate the child until one shoulder comes forward, then sweep that arm down across the chest and out. Turn the child the other way and do the same for the second arm." I demonstrated the motion carefully with my hands, showing how the rotation changed the position of the shoulder rather than simply dragging on the limb.

Anupamā copied the movement unconsciously in her lap until Vaidikā reached across and adjusted the angle of her wrist.

"Not there," Vaidikā told her apprentice, turning Anupamā's hand slightly. "You would be pulling against the joint."

Anupamā immediately repeated the movement more carefully. "Here?"

"Better."

I nodded as she completed it. "Exactly. The movement should bring the arm across the child's own chest rather than wrenching it outward."

Vaidikā looked back at me. "And if it still will not come?"

"Then change the angle, rotate again and try to free whichever arm is preventing the shoulders from descending. If there is absolutely no other way, the child is failing and you cannot free the shoulders, a collarbone can be broken deliberately to reduce the width of the shoulder. But that is a last resort, not the next step."

Anupamā's eyes widened. "You would break the child's bone?"

"If the choice had truly become a broken collarbone or a dead child, yes," I answered, keeping my voice matter-of-fact because horror was of little use when discussing desperate choices. "The collarbone usually heals. A child trapped without enough air does not."

Vaidikā looked at her assistant and gave a small, grim nod. "A living child with a broken bone can be cared for afterward."

"Exactly." I reached for a cloth left over the arm of my chair and wiped some of the water from my skin before another line of it reached my waist. "The goal is to get the child out of the mother and for both of them to survive."

Vaidikā's attention remained fixed on me. "And the head?"

"Keep the chin toward the chest. A bent head presents a smaller shape, while if the child's head tips backward, it becomes much harder to pass." I touched my own chin and then the upper part of my chest to make the relationship clear. "When the body is out, support it without letting it hang, and keep the child curved rather than pulling straight downward. Pressure beneath the jaw can help keep the chin tucked while the head follows the curve of the mother's body."

Vaidikā touched beneath her own jaw, thinking about the movement, and gave a quiet grunt. "I press there when the head is slow."

"Then you already know part of the movement," I said, and I could not keep a slight smile from appearing. "Now you know why it works."

A faint answering smile touched one corner of her mouth. "That is useful."

She shifted slightly in her chair, the matter apparently not finished. "And the mother? How should she be positioned?"

"What do you normally use?"

"Squatting if she has the strength," Vaidikā replied. "Kneeling if she prefers, and sometimes supported against another woman."

"Keep doing that. Upright positions give the pelvis room to move and let gravity help. If the child becomes stuck, change the mother's position rather than simply pulling harder. Hands and knees can change the angle of the pelvis, and if she is lying back for some reason, bringing her thighs strongly toward her body can sometimes create a little more room."

Vaidikā sat quietly for several heartbeats after that, and the room seemed to settle around her concentration. Somewhere outside, a bird called from one of the trees, and from farther away came the faint voices of servants moving through Nanda's household. Anupamā remained attentive beside her, but I barely noticed the attraction radiating from her now because Vaidikā's expression had become distant in the unmistakable way of an experienced practitioner comparing new explanations against dozens or perhaps hundreds of old cases.

Finally, she looked directly at me.

"You would attend?"

I smiled slightly. "Earlier today you told me men do not belong in a birthing room."

"They do not," she replied, although the faint movement at the corner of her mouth ruined the severity of the statement. "That does not mean I cannot ask whether one knows something useful. Which you obviously do."

Anupamā lowered her face to conceal a smile, although the movement merely made it more obvious, and Vaidikā pushed herself to her feet before smoothing the folds of her clothing.

"I will speak with the mother," she continued. "If she wants you there, I will send for you, and if you come, you will remember that I am still the midwife."

"I had assumed so."

"And you will keep quiet unless you have something worth saying."

The words settled between us, and the faint amusement I had felt up to that point disappeared.

I had tolerated Vaidikā's sharpness because I respected her competence, and because a woman who had spent decades carrying responsibility for mothers and children had earned a certain amount of territorial pride. I had no interest in taking her place, directing her room or making her feel that some foreign man had arrived to explain her own profession to her. But there was a difference between allowing someone their pride and accepting contempt, and I had no intention of entering a difficult birth at her invitation only to spend the night being treated like an apprentice whose presence she barely endured.

I stayed seated and looked up at her.

"Midwife Vaidikā, you come to my door asking for my knowledge. I give it to you freely. Then you ask for my help, and again I agree. However, if you even dream of continuing to treat me like an apprentice whose presence you barely tolerate, I'm afraid that I have to decline."

I locked eyes with her.

"Is that understood?"

The room became very still.

Anupamā's lingering amusement vanished, and her hands settled motionless against the folds of her clothing as she looked between us. Vaidikā had been halfway through smoothing her garment, but her fingers stopped where they were, and for several heartbeats she simply stared at me.

I felt the first flash of irritation from her, sharp and immediate, the instinctive response of a woman accustomed to commanding rooms where people obeyed because hesitation could cost lives. Beneath it, however, came something more useful. Thought.

Something tightened briefly around her eyes.

"I have buried women after men who knew less than they believed they did interfered with births," Vaidikā said, and the dry humour had gone from her voice. "I have watched husbands order exhausted women about because they thought shouting made them wiser. I have had priests tell me what a goddess required while a woman bled beneath their words, and healers arrive after everything difficult was already done and explain what I should have done differently."

That explained a great deal.

I nodded once. "Then you have good reason to distrust interference."

"I do."

"But that is not what I have done."

Vaidikā's mouth tightened, and then she gave one small nod.

"No," she admitted. "It is not and when I came here, you answered every question I asked."

"I did. I have also learned healing from masters and pulled more people back from the brink of death than you have years. What I ask isn't that hard. I respect your craft. You respect me."

I smiled a little, letting some of the tension ease without taking anything back.

"I will also promise you that anyone endangering the woman will leave the room. Either by door or window, depending on how they behave."

Anupamā's eyes widened, and the tension in her expression broke just enough for amusement to appear around the edges. Vaidikā continued staring at me for another heartbeat, then the corner of her mouth moved despite herself.

"That," she said dryly, "I may find useful."

"I suspected you might."

Vaidikā inclined her head, and the gesture was different now. There was no test in it, only acknowledgement.

"Then we understand one another."

"We do."

She shifted her attention toward Anupamā, perhaps because the younger woman had finally released a breath she had apparently been holding, and Vaidikā's familiar dryness returned.

"Do not look so relieved, Anupamā. You still have to work with both of us."

Anupamā's lips twitched. "I was beginning to wonder whether I would have to choose which one to offend."

"That would have been educational," I said.

Vaidikā glanced back at me. "For whom?"

"I suspect all three of us."

That earned a small sound from Anupamā, almost a laugh but carefully contained, while Vaidikā shook her head once as if reconsidering the wisdom of having come to my door at all.

Then Anupamā stood, and as she straightened, her eyes slipped down my wet chest once more before she caught herself and abruptly looked toward the door. Vaidikā saw the entire thing and placed one hand on her apprentice's upper arm, steering her toward the entrance with renewed satisfaction.

"Come along, Anupamā. You have learned enough anatomy for one afternoon."

Anupamā went scarlet, and I felt another sharp pulse of embarrassment mixed with desire from her as she suddenly became fascinated by everything in the room except me. I had no intention of making that worse, so I merely inclined my head toward her with a small smile.

"I'm always happy to be of service when further anatomical instruction is required."

Her eyes snapped back to mine, and for a moment embarrassment fought with amusement before the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

Vaidikā gave me a long look, clearly deciding whether our newly established professional understanding included permission for that particular kind of assistance.

"I will remember that," she said dryly.

"Please do."

That finally drew a small, helpless smile from Anupamā as Vaidikā led her outside.

I closed the door after them and stood there for a moment, feeling the quiet amusement of the exchange linger without any need to turn it into more than it had been. Anupamā desired me. There was nothing ridiculous about that, and I certainly had no intention of making her regret allowing it to show. If anything, the knowledge was flattering, and the fact that she had tried so hard to behave properly only made me respect her more.

Then I went back to the pool.

The water had not become any warmer in my absence, and I lowered myself into it gratefully, stretching my legs beneath the surface while the heat left my skin again.

My thoughts returned to Vaidikā almost immediately.

There was no doubt in my mind that she was exactly as good as she claimed to be, but what had really earned my respect was that she had come here at all. She had decades of experience, the confidence to contradict noblemen inside their own houses, and enough reputation that important families apparently called for her by preference, yet she had still walked to the foreign healer's guesthouse and asked what I would do, simply because there was a chance I knew something she did not.

Her manner could use some work, but that mattered less than the fact that she had come.

Whether she had done it for the sake of her reputation, her pride in her craft or the women under her care mattered less to me than the result. Knowledge accumulated. The next difficult birth became slightly less mysterious than the last, and if she taught Anupamā what she learned, the knowledge would survive her as well.

That was how people became better at keeping one another alive.

Eventually my thoughts drifted from Vaidikā to her assistant, which was a rather less scholarly direction.

Anupamā was beautiful. There was no complicated reasoning required there. I remembered those large brown eyes continually losing their battle with curiosity, the softness of her mouth when she tried to hide a smile, and the sudden heat of embarrassment when Vaidikā had caught her looking. My body responded to the memory with happy enthusiasm, reminding me that it had been quite a while since I had enjoyed female company.

Unfortunately, I knew almost nothing about Anupamā beyond her name, her work and the fact that she had steady hands, but that particular deficiency could easily be corrected by asking the household staff about her at some point.

My thoughts wandered again, and this time the movement was less pleasant.

Ivanka and Kaeso.

Even thinking their names brought back the strange combination of joy and pain that accompanied almost every memory I had of them. Considering how little actual time I had been given with my own children, I missed them far more fiercely than the number of hours we had spent together should have allowed.

Then again, the playground had changed the meaning of those hours.

The mental technique had allowed us to meet inside a shared space where thought moved faster than the outside world, and instead of merely talking, we had exchanged memories, images and feelings. Kaeso had shown me the pride of catching his fish. Ivanka had shown me her wonder the first time she had held a sword. They had opened pieces of their lives to me, and I had tried to answer by opening mine, walking with them through memories of people and places they had known only through stories.

For a little while, I had been permitted to catch up. Not enough, but more than ordinary time should have allowed.

I let my head rest against the side of the pool and closed my eyes.

Jia had kept them secret because she had wanted them to herself for a few years. She had believed that she possessed only a human lifetime while I, Verina and the children had centuries ahead of us, and from inside that mistaken belief her decision had possessed a painful kind of logic. She had thought every year she surrendered to us would be a year taken from the tiny number available to her.

Then I had told her that she had far more Baylon blood than she understood and, if everything worked as it should, centuries rather than decades waited for her as well. All that secrecy, all those lost years, had been built on a mistake neither of us had recognized soon enough.

I understood why she had done it, but understanding did not make the lost time hurt less.

Hopefully, Ivanka and Kaeso were alive and well in Baylon's home dimension now, with Jia and Verina somewhere close and the house available to them. Hopefully they had grown up in safety. Hopefully Kaeso had caught bigger fish, and Ivanka had become as good with a sword as the expression on her face in that memory had promised.

I drew a slow breath and released it, but the pressure beneath my ribs refused to disappear with the air.

After another moment, I pushed myself upright and climbed out of the pool. Water streamed down my body onto the stone while I reached for a cloth, and by then I already knew there was little chance of simply lying down and sleeping.

If I wanted any chance of rest tonight, I needed to meditate first, because right now I felt like hitting something.

------------------------------------------

Emergency

The next morning had settled into the familiar rhythm of Nanda's household by the time I finished breakfast. Servants moved through the courtyards with quiet purpose, carrying water, food and folded cloth between buildings while the first real heat of the day gathered over the stone and packed earth. I had lived with Nanda long enough now that the household knew my habits without turning them into ceremony, although Nanda's standards of hospitality remained absolute enough that I doubted anyone would ever allow an honoured guest to go hungry, thirsty or unattended for more than a few moments without expecting questions from him afterward.

I was sitting in the shade beside the guesthouse with a cup of tea when Nanda crossed the courtyard toward me, moving at the unhurried pace of a man who had come for conversation rather than business. He wore fine cloth as always, although more simply than he would have for a formal meeting, and when I looked up and saw him approaching, I smiled and gestured toward the empty chair opposite me.

"Good morning, Nanda," I said as he reached the shade.

"Good morning, Iravan." Nanda lowered himself into the chair with the ease of familiarity while one of the nearby servants immediately noticed his arrival and brought another cup. He waited until the tea had been poured, thanked the servant with a small nod and then wrapped both hands around the warm cup before looking back at me. "I wanted to thank you for yesterday."

I smiled and shook my head, letting the cup rest against my palm. "Then you should thank Vaidikā and Anupamā. They did the work. I barely did anything."

Nanda raised his eyebrows at that and leaned back slightly, clearly unconvinced. "Mālatī says otherwise."

"I eased her pain," I replied, and lifted my own tea again. "That was useful, certainly, but it did not deliver either child. Vaidikā handled the birth, Anupamā assisted her, and Mālatī did considerably more work than all of us together."

Nanda watched me over the rim of his cup for a moment, amusement slowly gathering in his eyes. "You have always possessed an interesting way of deciding what counts as doing something."

"There is a difference between helping and doing the work," I said, and gave him a small smile because I knew perfectly well what he was thinking.

"There may be," Nanda answered as he lowered the cup to his knee, "but I doubt Mālatī cares about the distinction. According to her, your needles made the difference between pain she could endure and pain she thought would break her."

"That I will accept." I took another sip and felt the heat of the tea settle pleasantly through me. "But the rest belongs to the midwives."

Nanda gave a slow nod, conceding enough of the point to let it go, and the tension in his face softened as the conversation turned naturally toward the newborns.

"They are both well," he said, and pride warmed his voice as surely as the morning sun warmed the courtyard. "The boy eats as though his life depends upon emptying Mālatī completely, while the girl objects loudly whenever anyone takes her away."

"That sounds encouraging," I said, and his expression brightened further.

"Dushala says so too." Nanda smiled into his cup and glanced toward the main house, as if he could somehow see through the walls to where the babies were sleeping or crying. "She has already decided the girl resembles Mālatī."

I tilted my head and looked at him. "At less than a day old?"

Nanda gave me a helpless little shrug, although his mouth twitched with amusement. "She is very certain."

"Then I recommend agreeing with her," I said, and deliberately kept my expression solemn enough to make the advice sound serious.

Nanda looked at me for a heartbeat, then laughed quietly and shook his head. "You have learned."

"I learned forty years ago," I replied, and the memory of Dushala's temper brought a faint smile to my face.

"That is true," Nanda said, still smiling as he settled more comfortably into the chair.

For a few moments we sat in companionable silence while the sounds of the household moved around us. Somewhere nearby a woman was giving instructions about grain, farther off I heard a child laughing before another voice called them back, and from the main house came the distant murmur of a family that had suddenly become larger by two.

Nanda's expression softened again as he listened to it.

"Satyaka has hardly slept," he said, turning the cup slowly between his hands. "He wakes every time either child makes a sound."

"That will probably continue for a while," I answered, and when Nanda looked at me with the faint concern of a father who still worried about his grown son, I added, "Eventually exhaustion will teach him that children can make sounds without requiring immediate intervention."

A smile returned to Nanda's face, though this time it carried memory with it. "I remember thinking much the same thing when he was born."

The words brought the image back so quickly that for a heartbeat the courtyard seemed to fall away. I remembered Dushala pale and weak beneath my hands, remembered the blood, the heat, the fear in Nanda's face and the tiny body of Satyaka after I had pulled him into the world. Now that same infant was a grown man with children of his own, and Nanda sat across from me discussing the sleeping habits of the son whose life had once rested quite literally between my hands.

Time occasionally had a strange sense of humour.

"He seems happy," I said, and Nanda's attention returned from the main house to me.

"He is." Nanda rested the cup against one knee and let out a quiet breath. "Mālatī is exhausted, but happy as well. Dushala is already trying to reorganize half the household around the babies, so within another day I expect none of us will be permitted to make any decision without consulting her."

"That also sounds familiar," I said, and the old memory drew another smile from me.

Nanda looked across at me with open amusement. "You remember her well."

"I remember being told what to do by her while she was barely able to sit upright," I replied, and I could still hear the tone she had used even after four decades.

"She has not changed much," Nanda said, and the fondness in his face made it clear that he considered that a blessing rather than a complaint.

"I noticed," I answered, and raised my cup to him in acknowledgement.

We were still smiling when the sound of running feet broke through the ordinary noise of the courtyard.

It was fast enough and uneven enough to catch my attention immediately, and Nanda turned toward the entrance at almost the same moment I did. A young boy came through the gate at a run, weaving past two servants before reaching us, and by the time he stopped he was so completely out of breath that his chest heaved and his first attempt at speech emerged as little more than a gasp.

I was already rising before he managed the first name.

"Vaidikā..." The boy bent forward for a heartbeat, one hand braced against his thigh while the other reached toward me. "Anupamā... they need you. Quickly."

The warmth of the morning vanished from my thoughts.

"How quickly?" I asked, stepping toward him.

"As soon as possible," he managed, forcing the words out between breaths.

I turned toward the guesthouse and crossed the short distance quickly, already considering what I might need. If Vaidikā and Anupamā were there, then the ordinary things required for childbirth would already be present, and there was no reason to waste time carrying half a room with me. I took my needle case and the small container of healing oil I kept with it, placed both into a leather pouch and returned outside.

Nanda had risen while I was gone, and the boy was still trying to recover enough breath to stand properly.

"I have to go," I said as I came back into the shade.

"Of course." Nanda looked from me to the boy, and whatever remained of our quiet conversation disappeared behind immediate concern.

I clasped his forearm briefly. "Give Mālatī and Satyaka my congratulations again."

"I will." Nanda returned the grip firmly and released me at once. "Go help whoever needs you."

I turned toward the boy and gestured toward the gate. "Lead the way."

He immediately started running again.

I followed him through the entrance and into the street, letting him choose the route while I matched his pace easily. For the first short stretch he managed through determination alone, but he had already run hard to reach Nanda's house and the strain showed quickly. His breathing became harsh again, his stride shortened and his shoulders began to sway with each step.

There was no reason to let him exhaust himself further.

I accelerated until I came alongside him, caught him securely around the waist without breaking stride and lifted him. He gave a startled yelp as his feet left the ground, but I shifted him upward in the same movement and settled him onto my shoulders before he had time to protest.

"Hold on and tell me where to go," I said as his hands closed instinctively around my shoulders.

"Straight to the shrine, then right," he answered almost immediately, the surprise in his voice already giving way to urgency.

I ran.

His weight changed my balance but did little else, and with him no longer wasting strength trying to keep up, we moved considerably faster. The streets passed beneath my feet in a blur of packed earth, stone and startled pedestrians while the boy gave directions from above me with increasing confidence.

"Right here!" he called, leaning slightly as I reached the shrine.

I turned sharply around the corner without slowing.

"Straight through the market street," he continued, one hand lifting from my shoulder long enough to point ahead, "then left by the well."

I followed the route he gave me, threading between carts, merchants and pedestrians while people shouted or jumped aside. More than one face turned after us as we passed, and I could hardly blame them. A tall foreigner running through Kashi with a child perched on his shoulders was probably memorable even here.

"Left at the well!" the boy called, and I changed direction at once.

"Then all the way to the large gate," he added, tightening his legs slightly against my chest as I accelerated again.

We moved into a different part of the city, where the buildings became larger and the walls higher, with guarded entrances, broad compounds and enough ornamentation to announce wealth without anyone needing to ask who lived there. I could feel the heat building across my back and shoulders now, and sweat gathered beneath the strap of the pouch, but my breathing remained controlled while I followed the boy's directions.

Then the wall ahead came into view.

It dominated the street, built of dressed stone and timber with a broad gate beneath carved decoration, and armed guards stood beneath the shade on either side. Beyond the outer wall, the upper portions of several buildings rose farther inside, larger and more ornate than anything belonging to an ordinary merchant or noble household.

I slowed only enough to take it in properly.

"This is where they are?" I asked, glancing upward as much as I could without breaking stride.

"Yes," the boy answered immediately from my shoulders. "Inside."

Vaidikā had said she had important clients.

Apparently, she had been rather modest about what that meant.

The guards noticed us before we reached the gate, and their posture changed at once. Two men stepped forward, hands moving toward their weapons as I slowed, and I had just begun considering how best to explain myself when Anupamā appeared inside the entrance.

She had clearly been waiting for us.

Her hair was bound securely away from her face, her clothing arranged for work rather than appearance, and all of yesterday's shy amusement had vanished beneath concentration and worry. Relief flashed across her face when she saw me, and she immediately moved toward the guards.

"He is the healer Vaidikā sent for," Anupamā said quickly, lifting one hand toward me as she addressed them. "Let him through."

The men looked from her to me and then to the boy on my shoulders, but whatever authority her presence carried was enough. They stepped aside.

I stopped just inside the gate and reached up for the boy, lifting him down from my shoulders and setting him carefully on his feet. His knees wobbled for an instant after the long run, and I kept one hand on his upper arm until he steadied himself.

"You did well," I told him, and the boy looked up at me, still flushed and breathing hard.

"I ran as fast as I could," he said, embarrassment and pride competing across his face.

"I know." I gave his arm a brief squeeze before letting go. "You got me here."

That seemed to matter. His shoulders straightened slightly despite the exhaustion.

Anupamā stepped closer, and the urgency in her expression pulled my attention back to why I had come.

"We need you inside," she said, already turning her body toward the inner buildings.

I adjusted the pouch against my side and fell into step beside her. "How is she?"

Anupamā glanced toward the buildings ahead, and the tension in her jaw told me the answer before she gave it.

"Vaidikā will explain," she said, quickening her pace. "Please come."

I nodded and followed.

The scale of the compound became obvious almost immediately. What I had seen from outside had only been the outer wall and highest roofs. Inside lay a broad courtyard bordered by pillared galleries, carved doors and shaded passages, with servants, guards and richly dressed household members moving between them in tightly controlled urgency. Beyond the first courtyard another set of buildings rose around a garden, and farther still I could see the upper levels of the central residence.

This was not simply the home of some wealthy client. This was a ruler's palace, which in this case meant Rājan Vīrasena of Kashi.

Anupamā moved quickly across the courtyard, and I followed close beside her while people glanced toward us as we passed. Some looked at her, some at me, and several stared long enough to make it obvious that a foreign man being hurried through the ruler's private residence was not an everyday sight.

As we passed beneath the shade of a gallery, I leaned slightly closer to her.

"You neglected to mention yesterday that Vaidikā's client was Rājan Vīrasena's household," I said, keeping my voice low enough that the guards behind us would not hear.

For the first time since I had seen her at the gate, a faint trace of dry amusement touched Anupamā's eyes, and she turned her head just enough to look at me while still moving. "You did not ask."

I looked ahead at the next guarded doorway and the servants gathered beyond it, then gave her a small smile. "That is becoming a dangerous habit of mine."

The amusement vanished from her expression almost immediately as she quickened her pace again.

"Come," she said, gesturing toward the inner rooms. "She has been waiting for you."

I followed her deeper into the palace, and as the smell of hot stone and incense gradually gave way to oil, water and the close warmth of rooms where women had been labouring for hours, whatever remained of the peaceful morning at Nanda's house disappeared completely from my mind.

Anupamā led me through another doorway and into a room that was far too crowded for the work being done inside it.

The heat struck first, close and heavy from too many bodies sharing too little air, and it carried the mixed smells of sweat, oil, incense, damp cloth and fear. Women stood along the walls and near the bed, several men occupied the space closer to the door, servants hovered with bowls and folded linen, and farther back two older women whispered to one another while watching everything with the fixed intensity of people who had no useful task but every intention of remaining present.

On the bed lay a woman somewhere in her thirties, exhausted enough that the strain had hollowed her face. Damp hair clung to her temples and neck, her breathing came slowly between contractions, and one hand gripped the bedding while Vaidikā sat close beside her, speaking in a low, steady voice that seemed intended as much to hold the woman's attention as to reassure her. Whatever sharpness Vaidikā carried outside a birthing room had narrowed into concentration here, and when she glanced toward me I caught immediate relief in her face before her attention returned to the mother.

Before I could reach them, an elderly man in expensive-looking clothes stepped away from the cluster near the foot of the bed and came toward me. His garments were fine enough to make his position obvious even without the palace around us, and despite the worry tightening his face he greeted me with a smile and extended one hand slightly in welcome. "Ahh, the foreign healer. I hope you can be of assistance."

I looked past him at the room again, taking in the people pressed around the bed, the servants waiting for instructions from several directions, the relatives blocking the easiest paths through the room and the mother trying to labour while half the household watched her do it, then I looked back at him. "I can, but first I want to know if you want the mother and child to live."

The smile vanished from his face so quickly that for a heartbeat he simply stared at me, and several people nearby stopped speaking and turned toward us while Anupamā drew in a small breath behind my shoulder. Even Vaidikā looked up sharply from the bedside before the old man recovered enough to answer, his voice carrying genuine offence. "Of course I do."

I nodded once and let my gaze travel around the room again. "Good. Then everybody who does not have a job to do leaves now."

Several people stiffened immediately, one of the older women near the wall looked personally insulted, a younger man near the foot of the bed frowned as though he had misheard me, and two servants glanced toward the elderly man for permission while the room filled with the rustle of people deciding whether the order really included them. I held the old man's gaze long enough for the point to settle, then gestured toward the bed and the narrow spaces around it.

"The mother needs air, space and quiet, and Vaidikā and Anupamā need room to work. Anyone carrying water, cloth or anything else they are actually using can stay, and anyone helping the mother can stay. Everyone else is making this harder."

His eyes moved around the room, and I watched understanding replace surprise as he finally looked at the crowd as an obstacle rather than a collection of worried relatives. People blocked the bed, servants had to squeeze around them and every contraction happened beneath the eyes of an audience. His jaw tightened, and he turned toward the others. "You heard him. If you have no task, leave."

The murmuring rose for a moment, but this time movement came with it. People began filing toward the door, some reluctantly and some quickly, while one of the older women hesitated long enough to receive a look from the elderly man that apparently answered whatever objection she had been preparing. Within moments the room opened around us, air began moving more freely through the doorway and shutters, and Vaidikā finally had space around the bed instead of a wall of bodies.

I crossed to the head of the bed, and up close the woman's exhaustion looked worse. Sweat shone across her face and neck, her lips were dry, and when another contraction moved through her, the fingers gripping the bedding tightened only weakly before going slack again. I stopped where she could see me clearly and gave her a small smile. "My name is Iravan. Vaidikā sent for me because she thought I might be able to help."

The woman's tired eyes moved over my face, then toward Vaidikā as if asking whether this strange foreign man truly belonged in the room. Vaidikā gave her a brief reassuring nod, and when the woman looked back at me I continued, keeping my voice gentle. "I need to examine you, but I want your permission first. May I touch you?"

She breathed for several moments before answering, gathering enough strength to speak, then gave me a small nod. "You may."

"Thank you," I said as I moved closer and placed one hand gently against her forehead.

Her skin was hot and damp beneath my palm, and I let my awareness sink inward.

The room faded as my Vis senses spread through her body, following the familiar patterns of muscle, blood, bone and life. The strain announced itself immediately because exhaustion was everywhere. Her womb had been working for far too long, each contraction demanding more from muscles already close to their limit, and the rest of her body was paying for it. Her breathing was shallow with fatigue and her reserves were thin, and before I even reached the child I understood why Vaidikā had sent for me.

The child lay exactly as she had described the day before, buttocks toward the birth passage, head still high and both legs stretched upward alongside the body. It was awkward, but manageable. The mother was the greater problem because she was exhausted almost to the point where she had very little strength left to push effectively, and the contractions were accomplishing less with each attempt. Aside from that, however, I found nothing wrong. There was no bleeding that worried me, no hidden injury and no sign that the child was failing.

I withdrew my senses gradually and let the room settle around me again, then gave the woman's forehead a gentle stroke with my thumb before lifting my hand away. "You and the child are both still doing well. You are simply very tired."

Her eyes closed for a moment at that, and some of the strain around her mouth eased as though hearing that nothing worse was happening had given her permission to stop fearing something she could not name.

I turned toward Vaidikā. "How long has this been going on?"

The older midwife shifted her weight beside the bed and rubbed two fingers briefly beneath one eye before answering, and only then did I really notice how tired she looked as well. "I was called here after only a few hours of sleep. She had already been labouring for hours before they sent for me."

That explained far too much. I looked down toward the woman again, then back to Vaidikā. "Is she open enough for birth?"

Vaidikā nodded tiredly, one hand still resting near the mother's hip. "Yes. She has been for some time."

I nodded as my mind speeded up. The woman was exhausted and needed energy, which again meant Vis. At the same time, she needed contractions.

I suppressed a smile as the solution presented itself and looked toward the elderly man who had remained near the foot of the bed, then gave him an apologetic little smile. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea who is who here. Are you the father?"

For the first time since I entered, some of the strain eased from his expression, and he smiled as he inclined his head. "Yes. I am."

"Good. Then I have a job for you, and everybody else leaves the room. Now."

The old man blinked in surprise while Anupamā glanced at me from beside Vaidikā, and I saw the briefest flash of approval in her face before she turned toward the remaining attendants. Vaidikā simply looked around the room and gave the smallest nod, as if I had finally said what she had been too busy to spend breath on.

One of the older women who had somehow survived the first clearing stiffened and protested, "But I am her aunt."

I looked at her and answered evenly, "Then you can be her aunt just as well outside."

She stared at me, offended enough that under different circumstances I might have found it amusing, but the father turned toward her before she could answer. "Go. All of you. If they need something, they will call."

That ended it. The remaining relatives and attendants moved toward the door, some reluctantly and some with visible relief, and within moments only Vaidikā, Anupamā, the father and I remained with the woman on the bed.

I stepped aside enough to give him space and pointed toward the place beside her shoulder, then met his eyes because what I was about to ask would sound absurd if he had never encountered the idea before. "Please believe me now, because I am going to ask you to do something that you will probably find very strange. Do you know what the bhagāṅkura (Indian for 'clitoris') is?"

For the first time since I had met him, the old man looked genuinely stunned. His eyes widened, and he glanced toward his wife before looking back at me as if checking whether he had understood correctly, but after a moment he gave a slow nod. "I do."

"Good." I kept my voice quiet and matter-of-fact, giving him no reason to feel embarrassment about something that was simply part of his wife's body. "I need you to stimulate it. Be as gentle and loving as you were when this child was made, and give her pleasure. However, as soon as she reaches the peak, I need you to remove your hand so Vaidikā can work."

His mouth opened slightly, but no answer came immediately. Beside the bed, Anupamā had gone very still, her eyes moving from me to the father and then toward Vaidikā, who watched me with the tired concentration of someone trying to understand where I was going.

I let the man absorb it, then softened my voice. "You made this child together, and together you can help get it out."

His expression shifted from shock to uncertainty and then gradually to understanding as he looked down at his wife, who had opened her eyes enough to watch him through the exhaustion. He bent close to murmur something into her ear, and after listening she gave the smallest nod, which seemed to settle something in him.

When he looked back at me, concern had replaced embarrassment. "You believe this will help her?"

"I believe pleasure can give her body another kind of strength when exhaustion has taken most of the rest," I explained, keeping my hands loosely together in front of me while I watched them both. "It will not replace the work she still has to do, but it may give us something useful at the moment she needs it most."

Vaidikā frowned slightly and looked between me and the woman. "You want her to experience rati while giving birth?"

"I want the strength that comes with it," I replied, meeting her eyes. "Pleasure produces life energy, and I can use that energy to strengthen the muscles doing the work."

Vaidikā absorbed that in silence, then gave a slow nod.

I opened the leather pouch and took out my acupuncture needles, setting the small case within easy reach before turning my attention fully to the mother. I rolled the first needle delicately between my fingers and placed it into the upper part of her chest before adding two more nearby, then continued with another group of four along her shoulders and upper body.

Vaidikā leaned closer without crowding my hands, watching the placement with the focused curiosity of someone who had already decided that anything useful was worth learning. As I placed the next group, I explained, "I am using them to direct her energy toward where it will be needed. The body spends strength everywhere, but right now I want as much of it as possible available for the muscles involved in the birth."

Vaidikā's gaze moved from the needles to my face and back again. "You can truly move strength through the body this way?"

"To a degree," I answered while placing another needle and feeling the subtle change in the woman's breathing. "The needles persuade the body to send its own strength where I want it. They do not create energy from nothing, but they can keep some of it from being wasted where it is less useful."

The husband had begun gently, exactly as I had asked, and within moments I realized I had underestimated him. One of his hands worked carefully beneath the cloth covering his wife while the other stroked damp hair away from her face, his fingertips moving with the slow familiarity of someone who knew exactly how she liked to be touched. He bent close to murmur something against her temple, and the look he gave her was so openly loving that it surprised me.

Whatever titles or wealth surrounded them outside this room, here there was only a man looking at the woman he loved and trying to reach her through pain and exhaustion.

Her face changed gradually beneath his attention. The lines of pain remained, but something softer began to move through them, and her breathing shifted as pleasure mixed with exhaustion and labour. Her fingers tightened weakly around his wrist and then relaxed again, and when she opened her eyes, they found his immediately.

I had seen enough to know he could do what I needed.

I placed one hand lightly against her shoulder and let my Vis senses sink back into her body. The child remained where Vaidikā had described it, buttocks toward the opening and head still high, while the mother's reserves remained dangerously thin. Every contraction was stealing strength I wanted to preserve until the moment it could actually accomplish something.

So I reached deeper and used the pattern established by the needles to damp the signals driving the labour for a little while. The hard rhythm eased, the womb relaxed and the woman drew in a deeper breath as the pressure released enough to give her a brief respite.

Vaidikā noticed immediately, her head coming up sharply as she looked from the woman's abdomen to me with one hand still resting near the mother's hip. "The contraction stopped."

"The needles do that, but only for a short while," I told her, keeping most of my attention inside the woman's body while I held the effect steady. "It gives her a little time to recover before we need the womb working again."

Vaidikā watched the woman for another moment, then glanced toward her husband and clearly understood where the pause was leading. "And you will release it when the rati reaches its height?"

I nodded once while letting some of my own Vis flow through the hand resting against the woman's shoulder.

The transfer was familiar, a controlled draw from my own reserves followed by the warmer pressure of energy flowing into her, and I fed it carefully, stripping away some of the crushing exhaustion from muscles that had worked for hours and returning enough strength that she would have something left when the labour resumed. The trembling in her arms eased, her breathing deepened and some of the leaden weakness inside her loosened its grip, while everyone else had their attention elsewhere and saw only a woman finally receiving a brief respite.

The pleasure inside her began to build more strongly. Her pulse quickened, her breathing changed and tension gathered through her pelvis and abdomen in a pattern different from the labour contractions I was suppressing. Through my senses I could feel the rising surge of pleasure, and while it gathered I continued feeding a measured amount of my own Vis into her, replacing enough of what she had lost to make the coming effort worthwhile.

Vaidikā moved closer to the woman's lower body and adjusted her position, then glanced toward Anupamā, who immediately shifted beside her and prepared to assist. The two women worked together with the ease of people who had done this often enough that most instructions no longer needed words.

The husband remained bent close to his wife, one hand still working beneath the cloth while the other caressed her hair and cheek. Every so often he murmured something too quietly for me to hear, and each time her mouth softened or her fingers tightened around his wrist. I found myself unexpectedly touched by the sight of them.

The energy inside her continued climbing, and I loosened the block on the labour without releasing it yet while I kept feeding a little more of my own Vis into the tired muscles of her abdomen and womb, readying them for what was coming.

The woman's breath caught sharply, her back arched and her fingers closed hard around her husband's wrist, but he stayed with her exactly as I had asked, continuing until the pleasure finally reached its height and she came in an orgasm.

Only then did he remove his hand and almost the same instant, I released the block.

The labour contractions returned just as the involuntary contractions of her pleasure rolled through her pelvis and abdomen, and for several heartbeats the two rhythms overlapped. I caught the surge of Vis that came with the orgasm and redirected it into the muscles already working to move the child, while at the same time I added another measured pulse of my own energy and stripped away a little more of the exhaustion that had been smothering her strength.

Her whole body tightened with sudden force.

Vaidikā felt the change beneath her hands and immediately shifted lower, her concentration sharpening as the child began moving again, and she gestured sharply toward the woman's leg. "There. Now, Anupamā. Support her there."

Anupamā moved at once and braced the mother exactly where Vaidikā indicated, while the husband withdrew fully toward the head of the bed and returned his hand to his wife's hair, speaking softly to her as she dragged in another breath.

From there, the birth became almost ordinary. The child's position still required attention, but the woman had given birth before, her body knew the work, and with some of the exhaustion lifted and the contractions strong again, the difference was immediate.

Vaidikā settled fully into the rhythm of delivery while Anupamā supported the mother and followed each short instruction with practiced precision, and I kept my senses inside the woman, watching the child descend and making certain nothing changed in a way that demanded intervention.

The mother bore down with the next contraction, her face tightening while her husband held her hand near the head of the bed and murmured encouragement close to her ear. She was still tired, but the helpless weakness I had felt when I first examined her had given way to the more familiar fatigue of a woman who had already done this before and now understood that the end was close.

As the child moved lower, Vaidikā glanced briefly toward me and then returned both hands to her work. "Good," she told the mother, keeping her voice low and steady while Anupamā adjusted the woman's leg beside her. "Again when it comes. Save your strength until then."

The woman nodded weakly and breathed through the short pause while her husband wiped damp hair from her forehead with his free hand. When the next contraction arrived, she gripped him hard enough that his face tightened in sympathy, but he stayed close and let her use his hand as an anchor while Vaidikā guided the child downward.

I felt the buttocks pass first and then the body, and although I remained ready to intervene if the shoulders caught, they followed with little difficulty. Vaidikā supported the child without pulling, exactly as we had discussed the previous afternoon, turning only as much as necessary while Anupamā watched her hands with complete attention.

"There," Vaidikā murmured as she adjusted the child carefully. "One more."

The mother dragged in a breath and pushed again, and the head followed.

For one heartbeat the room seemed to hold itself completely still, and then the child cried.

The sound filled the room, sharp, furious and wonderfully alive, and the tension that had been sitting between my shoulders since I entered finally released. The husband made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob as he bent over his wife, pressing his forehead against hers while Vaidikā supported the child and Anupamā reached for the cloth beside her.

Then the door opened. Only a handspan at first, just enough for one of the people waiting outside to push a face into the gap and look toward the bed, and apparently the sound of a crying child had erased every instruction given earlier.

My irritation arrived considerably faster than my patience.

One of my knives left my hand and struck the wooden frame beside the intruding face with a hard crack, burying itself deeply enough that the handle quivered. The person in the doorway froze, and I turned my head and looked directly at them. "Out!"

The face vanished instantly, and the door slammed shut so quickly that the knife continued vibrating in the frame afterward.

Anupamā stared at the knife, then at me, while Vaidikā remained occupied with the child, although the corner of her mouth twitched as she said, "I thought you promised the door or the window depending on how they behaved."

"I used the door," I replied, and the husband looked from me to the knife embedded in the frame before a tired smile spread across his face.

"That was my brother," he said, sounding somewhere between embarrassed and amused.

I glanced toward the closed door. "He has excellent reactions."

The mother managed the faintest exhausted laugh.

Before Vaidikā placed the child against her, I moved quickly back to the head of the bed and began removing the acupuncture needles. I took them out in the same small groups in which I had placed them, working carefully but without wasting time, and when the last one came free I closed the case and gave Vaidikā a nod.

Vaidikā brought the child up and settled the small warm body against the mother's chest. Her arms closed around the baby with exhausted instinct, and her husband shifted closer immediately, one hand still resting against her hair while the other hovered near the child as if he still could not quite believe both of them were safe.

For a while we simply let them have that moment.

The after-birth came without difficulty a short time later, and Vaidikā examined it with the same care she had shown through the rest of the delivery before setting it aside. Once she had finished, I reached into my pouch and took out the small container of healing oil, then held it toward her. "This is for her."

Vaidikā accepted the container and turned it once in her hand, her tired eyes sharpening with curiosity while I gestured toward the mother. "If you smear a little of that over the wounded parts, it will help prevent infection and help the flesh heal. You only need enough to cover the injuries."

She nodded and placed the oil carefully among the things beside her, then returned her attention to the mother.

I looked back at the parents, and this time the smile came more easily. "Congratulations to the two of you. You made it together, despite the little rascal being stubborn from even before birth."

The father laughed softly, relief roughening the sound, and bent to kiss his wife's forehead while she looked down at the child and then back at him with an exhausted smile. "He gets that from his father."

Her husband lifted his head and gave her a wounded look that would have been considerably more convincing if he had not still been smiling. "You have known him for less than a minute."

"That has been enough," she answered, and Vaidikā gave a quiet snort beside the bed while Anupamā's mouth curved despite herself.

I let them enjoy the moment, then looked toward the father again. He still stood close beside the bed with one hand resting lightly against his wife's hair, and only now, with the danger gone, did he seem capable of seeing anything beyond her and the child.

I gestured toward Vaidikā and Anupamā, both of whom looked as though stubbornness had become the principal thing keeping them upright. "With the size of this palace, I assume you have a few rooms to spare. Could I persuade you to put Vaidikā and Anupamā in one or two of those rooms? They need food and sleep after this."

His gaze followed mine, and I watched him finally notice how exhausted both women looked. Vaidikā had been awake since before dawn after only a few hours of sleep, and Anupamā's movements remained competent but had slowed now that the urgency no longer held her upright. The father straightened slightly and nodded at once, then raised his voice toward the closed door. "Of course. Have two rooms prepared nearby, and bring food, water and anything else they ask for."

Vaidikā looked up from the mother with the expression of someone preparing to object on principle, but I caught her eye before she could begin. "You can argue with me after you have slept."

Her mouth tightened as she looked toward the door, then back at me. "I am capable of walking home."

"I know," I replied with a small smile. "But walking home exhausted when there is a perfectly good bed ten paces away would be stupid."

Anupamā lowered her face to hide a smile, which immediately earned her a look from her teacher promising that the matter would be remembered later.

The father watched the exchange with a tired chuckle before turning his attention fully toward the two midwives. "You will both stay. You have earned more than that."

Vaidikā exhaled through her nose, looked once toward Anupamā and finally surrendered with a small nod. "Very well. Food first."

"Excellent," I said with a slight smile and glanced over at the door. "Then I better remove the knife and tell people that they can have a quick look at the newborn child. I have a feeling that they wont leave before that happens."

I crossed to the door, wrapped my hand around the knife handle and pulled it free from the wood with a short twist. The blade came loose with a faint scrape, leaving a narrow gouge in the frame, and when I opened the door I found exactly what I expected outside.

The corridor was full. Relatives, servants, household women and several men had collected in a loose half-circle beyond the threshold, all trying to appear patient while leaning subtly forward as if proximity alone might let them see through the wall. The brother who had nearly caught my knife stood nearest the door, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and indignation, but he wisely kept his face well clear of the frame this time.

I rested one hand against the open door and looked over the group until the murmuring died down. "You can come in and see the child, but you will move quietly, you will not crowd the bed, and you will leave again quickly. The mother has worked hard enough today without having the entire palace standing over her."

Several heads nodded immediately, and the older women began exchanging looks that suggested they were already calculating the order in which everyone ought to enter.

I pointed toward the doorway before that discussion could become a battle of rank. "A few at a time. If the room fills up again, everyone goes back outside."

That settled matters with surprising efficiency.

The father's brother gave me a cautious look as he stepped forward with two elderly women, then glanced toward the mark in the doorframe and apparently decided that quiet obedience remained the safer choice. I moved aside and let them enter, watching long enough to make certain they actually remembered the instructions. They did. The first woman approached the bed slowly, her hands clasped together against her chest while relief and delight transformed her face, and the others followed with the same instinctive softening that newborn children seemed capable of producing in almost anyone.

Behind me, palace servants had already descended on Vaidikā and Anupamā.

One woman took Vaidikā gently but firmly by the elbow while another gathered the few things she had set aside, and a third appeared with water before the midwife could decide whether she wanted it. Anupamā received much the same treatment from the opposite side, and within moments the two women were being shepherded away toward the rooms the father had ordered prepared.

Vaidikā looked back at me as she was carried along by the small procession of determined servants, tired annoyance competing with relief in her face. "You appear very satisfied with yourself."

I smiled and inclined my head toward the woman holding her arm. "I merely admire efficient people." I gave her a small bow. "You did an excellent job, Vaidikā."

The servant hid a smile, while Vaidikā narrowed her eyes at me with the expression of someone who lacked the energy to formulate an adequate reply. Anupamā, walking beside her with a cup of water already pressed into her hands, looked considerably less inclined to resist the palace's hospitality and gave me a small, exhausted smile before they disappeared around the corner.

I turned back toward the room.

The next group of relatives was already slipping inside, moving quietly now and keeping well away from the bed, and the first group was filtering out with the particular dazed expressions of people who had spent hours fearing the worst and had finally been given something small, red-faced and loudly alive to look at instead. The father remained beside his wife, speaking softly to her while she held the child against her chest, and for the first time since I had entered the palace there was nothing in the room that required me, which suited me just fine.

I wiped the knife clean, returned it to its sheath and took one last look toward the bed. The mother was exhausted but safe, the child had enough strength to complain about the world, the father had rediscovered how to breathe, and the midwives were on their way toward food and sleep.

There was no reason to stay when everything was in order, so I stepped away from the doorway while another pair of relatives passed me, then followed the corridor back toward the outer courtyard without announcing my departure. Nobody stopped me. The household had turned inward around the newborn child, servants moving between rooms with trays and water while relatives whispered excitedly and guards relaxed now that the crisis had become a celebration.

By the time I reached the palace gate, the morning had moved well toward midday.

The sunlight outside struck hard after the shaded corridors, and the heat wrapped around me almost immediately as I stepped back into the streets of Kashi. For a few moments I stood there adjusting to the brightness and the ordinary noise of the city, carts rattling over uneven ground, merchants calling from shaded stalls, animals complaining somewhere farther down the road and people moving around one another in the endless flowing disorder of a city that had no idea a child had just been born behind the palace walls.

Then I started walking back toward Nanda's house, following the route through the market streets at an easy pace, passing the same shrine where the boy had directed me earlier and the same well where I had turned while carrying him on my shoulders. The difference between the frantic run toward the palace and the walk back was almost absurd, and as the rhythm of the city settled around me again, the tension slowly drained from my muscles.

By the time Nanda's district came into view, I was hungry, hot and increasingly aware that my tea had probably gone cold hours ago.

That, at least, was a problem Nanda's household would be delighted to solve.

--------------

I did have peace for the rest of the day, until Nanda came over to hear how my emergency went, so I told him what had happened, leaving out the pleasure part as I considered that too private to share, and when I was finished, Nanda looked at me with a slightly stunned expression on his face.

"So you helped save Rājan Vīrasena's child and then walked away?" Nanda asked, still watching me as though he was trying to decide whether I was joking.

"I don't know," I said truthfully, and lifted my cup before taking another drink of tea. "He never got around to giving me his name and it's not like I'm a regular guest at the palace. I have no idea if it was Rājan Vīrasena, his son, uncle or cousin." I shrugged and lowered the cup again. "It doesn't matter. What mattered more is that he loves his wife."

Nanda laughed softly and shook his head. "Iravan, you have just described Rājan Vīrasena and his wife, Rājñī Lila, to me. To make it even more fun, the man you threw a knife at..."

"I didn't throw it at him, but at the door frame," I clarified, although the amusement in Nanda's face told me that the distinction was unlikely to improve matters.

"... has to be Rājakumāra Devadatta," Nanda continued, ignoring my interruption. "As far as I know, he's the only one of Rājan Vīrasena's brothers who's in the city at the moment."

I sighed. In many countries it was illegal to carry a weapon in the presence of a ruler, and I had thrown a knife in the presence of one in order to scare his brother, Prince Devadatta.

"I seriously hope that I haven't broken too many laws."

Nanda was still looking very amused as he shook his head. "No. If you had carried or used a sword it would have been different, but everyone is allowed to carry a knife." He paused to drink tea before he continued, and the grin returned as he lowered the cup. "And you didn't hit Prince Devadatta. Though I suspect that it's the closest he has ever been to a sharp weapon in his life."

That made me raise my eyebrows. Traditionally, princes were taught fighting and warfare from a young age so they could act as generals, but apparently Prince Devadatta was an exception from that rule.

Nanda saw my expression and leaned back a little in his chair. "Since Prince Devadatta was the youngest of three, he received a scholarly education rather than a martial one, and he oversees trade." The grin came back as he turned the cup slightly between his hands. "I've worked with him many times and while he's not much of a fighter, he is very smart and well-educated."

I sighed again and rubbed a thumb along the side of my cup. "I wasn't really thinking. They needed to stay out and that was the fastest way... or at least the first thing that came to mind."

Nanda's grin widened at my expression, and he settled more comfortably into the chair as though the possibility that I had nearly impaled a royal prince had improved his afternoon considerably. "I would be more concerned about what happens when the story spreads," he said, turning his cup slowly between his hands. "The Rājan's wife nearly dies in childbirth, two respected midwives call for a foreign healer, and afterward both mother and child live. Then the healer leaves the palace before anyone can even properly thank him."

"That sounds considerably more dramatic than what happened," I said, although I could already see from his expression that Nanda disagreed.

"It will become more dramatic every time somebody tells it." Nanda took another drink and watched me over the rim of the cup. "By tomorrow you will probably have fought Yama himself for the child."

That made me snort, and I shook my head as I lifted my tea again. "Trust me when I say that the Lord of the Dead did not make an appearance at the palace and no fighting took place."

"I am relieved to hear it," Nanda said, although the smile at the corner of his mouth rather ruined the seriousness of the words. "But I still can't believe you didn't recognize Rājan Vīrasena."

"Recognition generally requires that you have seen the person before," I said drily, looking at him over the edge of my cup. "Rājan Vīrasena hasn't made any public appearances I have seen and it's a large palace. He could have been any of the high nobility that normally live in a palace, the Rājan's brother or cousin." I thought for a moment and set the cup down. "And I didn't really have time to think once inside. I had more immediate concerns."

Nanda's gaze held mine for a moment, and something in his face softened before he looked down at his tea. "That may be another reason the Rājan will remember you."

That made me frown. "Because I cared about their well-being?"

Nanda shook his head and looked back at me. "Because you thought of them before thinking about status or rewards." The smile returned as he shifted in his chair. "And because you ordered the royal family out of the room. Not even Vaidikā would suggest that, and her reputation is already considerable. You are an unknown and, as with all stories, the unknown stranger is always interesting."

I sighed and looked toward the courtyard, where sunlight had begun to take on the deeper colour of late afternoon. "I was enjoying being unknown."

Nanda laughed again and lifted his cup toward me slightly. "You may have chosen the wrong emergency."

------------------------------------------

At the palace

The summons came the next morning, delivered by a palace servant who arrived at Nanda's house with enough ceremony that several people in the courtyard stopped what they were doing to watch. I had just finished breakfast and was considering whether to spend the morning at the market or simply remain somewhere quiet for a few hours when Nanda appeared in the doorway wearing an expression that told me immediately that my hope of being forgotten had failed.

"The palace," he said, and there was far too much amusement in his voice for a man delivering a royal summons.

I looked past him toward the waiting servant, then back at Nanda, and let out a quiet sigh. "Of course."

Nanda's smile widened as he folded his arms. "You did say you were enjoying being unknown."

"I remember saying something remarkably foolish along those lines."

Nanda's smile turned into a grin. "You may wish to enjoy the memory."

I gave him a look, but there was little point delaying matters. I changed into cleaner clothing and strapped the two throwing knives to the inside of my forearms beneath the sleeves, where they sat hidden and familiar against my skin. I suspected the palace might have questions about exactly how much control I had possessed when I threw the knife the previous day, and it seemed sensible to bring the means to answer them. Then I followed the servant through the streets toward the palace, where the morning heat was already gathering against the stone, and when we reached the entrance the guards recognized me quickly enough that I suspected the story had travelled considerably faster than Nanda had predicted.

The servant led me through two courtyards and along a shaded passage before bringing me into a smaller audience room, far less formal than the great halls I had glimpsed the day before, and I immediately recognized several of the people waiting inside. Rājan Vīrasena stood near the centre of the room, while Rājñī Lila sat nearby with an attendant behind her and a cradle placed close enough that she could reach it without rising. She still looked tired, but there was colour in her face and awareness in her eyes, and the sight of her upright and alert eased something in me before I had time to think about it.

Rājakumāra Devadatta stood a little farther away, dressed with the restrained elegance of a man accustomed to court rather than armour, and Vaidikā and Anupamā were also present, the older midwife looking as solid and unimpressed by royal surroundings as she had looked in the birthing room, while Anupamā kept her hands folded before her and greeted me with a brief, warm glance before returning her attention to the Rājan.

I stopped at the proper distance and bowed respectfully to the Rājan. I had spent far too many years in courts, camps, merchant houses and royal compounds to forget that directness and courtesy were perfectly compatible, and there was no reason to become careless simply because the previous day had been chaotic.

"Iravan," Vīrasena said as he studied me for a moment.

"My lord," I answered, straightening again and allowing my gaze to move briefly toward Lila. "I am pleased to see that Rājñī Lila is recovering."

The Rājan followed my glance toward his wife, and the expression on his face softened immediately before he looked back at me. "My wife is alive, my child is alive, and both are recovering well," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had spent enough hours believing that one or both might be lost. "For that, I owe you thanks."

I inclined my head, but my attention moved toward Vaidikā and Anupamā before I answered. "Your gratitude honours me, my lord, but it belongs equally to three people. Vaidikā knew what was happening before I arrived, had already done everything she reasonably could, and kept both mother and child safe while I worked, and Anupamā assisted throughout and did exactly what was required whenever it was needed. I could not have done what I did without either of them."

Vaidikā turned her head slightly toward me and gave me one of those hard, assessing looks of hers, but there was approval beneath it this time, while Anupamā lowered her eyes for a moment before looking toward the Rājan again. Vīrasena noticed both reactions and considered the three of us in silence.

"You were the healer who came when the birth became dangerous," he said after a moment, and there was no accusation in the words, only a quiet testing of how I saw the matter.

"I was one of three people who helped your wife, my lord," I replied calmly. "Nothing more."

That earned me a longer look, and I saw Devadatta's attention sharpen as well, perhaps because he had expected either pride or false modesty and had found neither.

Vīrasena finally nodded once. "I intended to reward you."

I bowed my head slightly. "Then I would ask that whatever reward Your Lordship considers appropriate be divided equally between Vaidikā, Anupamā and myself."

The Rājan's brows rose. "Equally?"

"If it pleases you, my lord." I opened one hand in the direction of the two women. "People will remember the foreign healer because I arrived late in the story and because I am unfamiliar to them, but that does not make my part more important than theirs. Vaidikā brought years of skill and experience into that room, and Anupamā worked beside her through the entire birth. Any reward given for saving Rājñī Lila and the child should acknowledge all three of us."

For a few breaths Vīrasena said nothing, while Lila watched me with a thoughtful expression and Vaidikā's posture became just a little less rigid.

"Three equal shares," the Rājan determined with a slow nod.

I bowed again. "You are generous, my lord."

"So be it."

The formality in the room eased slightly after that, though Vīrasena continued to study me for a moment, and then the corner of his mouth shifted with restrained amusement.

"There is another matter," he said. "You said yesterday that you were aiming at the door frame, but several people have brought that into doubt."

I glanced briefly toward Devadatta, who had become very attentive, and then returned my gaze to the Rājan. "I usually hit what I am aiming at, my lord."

Devadatta breathed out through his nose, and Lila's eyes flicked toward him before returning to me.

Vīrasena regarded me for a moment. "Usually?"

"Nobody is incapable of missing, my lord," I replied evenly. "But I have had a great deal of practice."

That answer seemed to satisfy him more than a boast would have, and he turned his head toward the far side of the room, where several wooden chairs stood against the wall beneath a painted panel. One of them was more ornate than the others, with a carved back and a narrow decorative wooden projection rising from the centre of the crest, scarcely broader than two fingers.

Vīrasena looked at it for a moment and then back at me. "Could you hit the small point at the top of that chair?"

I followed his gaze, judged the distance and the size of the target, and then looked back at him. "Yes, my lord."

"From where you are standing?"

"Yes, my lord."

Devadatta shifted his weight and glanced at his brother, while the expression on his face suggested that he had already guessed where this was going. "Brother, I suspect this conversation exists mostly for your amusement."

Vīrasena's mouth curved slightly, but his eyes remained on me. "Then I would like you to demonstrate, Iravan."

I inclined my head once. "If that is your wish, my lord."

"It is."

I turned toward the chair, and my right hand moved across my body, slipped beneath the left sleeve and closed around the hidden knife strapped along the inside of my forearm, and in the same smooth motion I drew and threw the knife using the same technique I had used for half a century.

The blade crossed the room in a brief silver blur and struck the exact centre of the narrow wooden projection with a hard crack, splitting the carved piece and burying itself deeply enough that the handle shivered once before becoming still.

For a few heartbeats the room was quiet. Anupamā's eyes remained fixed on the knife, while Vaidikā folded her arms and looked from the chair to me with the expression of a woman adding one more entry to a rapidly growing list of things she had decided were strange about me. Devadatta stared at the target in silence, and Lila looked first at the knife and then at her husband.

Vīrasena smiled.

It was not a broad smile, but there was unmistakable satisfaction in it as he looked from the embedded knife to Devadatta and then back to me. "I consider the matter proven."

I waited respectfully.

The Rājan gestured toward the chair. "If you can place a blade there from this distance, then I am satisfied that you were not attempting to strike my brother yesterday."

Devadatta continued to look at the knife for another moment before turning toward his brother. "I am relieved that my continued existence has now been established through experimentation."

Lila laughed softly from her seat, and even Vaidikā's mouth twitched.

I turned toward Devadatta and inclined my head politely. "I did try to explain yesterday, my lord, that I was aiming at the door frame."

Devadatta met my eyes, and reluctant amusement slowly replaced the stiffness in his expression. "You will forgive me if I found the distinction somewhat less comforting while the knife was still moving."

"Entirely, my lord."

That drew a quiet laugh from Vīrasena, and some of the remaining formality in the room loosened with it. "You frightened him badly."

"I wanted him to stay outside, my lord," I said, glancing briefly toward Devadatta before returning my attention to the Rājan. "At the time, it seemed the quickest way to make my meaning clear."

"You succeeded."

Devadatta looked toward his brother with dry resignation. "I am pleased that my usefulness to the kingdom can now be measured against a door frame."

Vīrasena's amusement deepened. "You oversee trade. I would prefer you intact."

"That is generous of you."

I glanced toward the chair, where my knife still stood buried in the split wooden crest, and then looked back to the Rājan. "With your permission, my lord, I should retrieve my knife before someone attempts to use that chair."

Lila laughed openly this time, and Vīrasena shook his head as his gaze returned to me.

"You are a strange man, Iravan."

I bowed my head slightly. "So I have occasionally been told, my lord."

Lila laughed openly this time, and Vīrasena shook his head as his gaze returned to me. "Retrieve it, then."

I bowed my head and crossed the room, gripped the handle of the knife and pulled it free from the split piece of carved wood before sliding it back beneath my left sleeve and securing it against the inside of my forearm. When I turned back, Devadatta was watching the movement with renewed interest, while Lila rested one hand lightly against the cradle beside her and still wore the remnants of her smile. Vaidikā looked rather less impressed, although after what she had seen during the birth I suspected that throwing a knife into a piece of furniture had fallen rather low on her list of unusual things about me.

A moment later two palace servants entered carrying three folded lengths of fine cloth, each topped with a gold ornament, while another attendant stepped close enough to speak quietly to Vīrasena before withdrawing again.

The Rājan looked toward the gifts and then at Vaidikā, Anupamā and me in turn. "The cattle will be delivered separately," he said. "Ten cows to each of you, together with one piece of gold and one set of fine cloth."

For the first time since I had entered the room, Anupamā's composure slipped completely. Her eyes widened as she looked at the folded cloth and the gold resting upon it, and then she turned toward Vaidikā as though seeking confirmation that she had actually heard correctly. Vaidikā handled the announcement with considerably more control, but even she drew herself a little straighter and inclined her head deeply toward the Rājan.

"You honour us greatly, my lord," Vaidikā said, and there was genuine feeling beneath her usual firm voice.

Anupamā followed a heartbeat later, receiving her gifts carefully into both hands and staring at them for a moment before she remembered where she was. She looked up quickly and bowed. "Thank you, my lord. This is far more than I ever expected."

I accepted my own cloth and gold when the servant reached me and bowed as well. "You are very generous, my lord."

Vīrasena acknowledged us with a nod, and when I straightened I found Lila watching all three of us. Her face still carried the tiredness of the previous day, but her expression was warm, and when Vaidikā and Anupamā bowed to her she thanked them quietly before her gaze moved to me.

"You came when Vaidikā sent for you," she said, one hand still resting close to the cradle. "I will remember that."

"I am pleased I could be of assistance, my lady," I replied with a respectful inclination of my head, and when her fingers moved lightly over the edge of the cradle I found myself smiling. "I hope the next few days are considerably quieter for you."

"So do I," Lila said, and the tired amusement in her voice made Vīrasena smile again.

With that, the audience was effectively finished. We bowed and took our leave, and I followed Vaidikā and Anupamā through the palace corridors, carrying the folded cloth over one arm while the gold ornament rested securely within it. The cool shade gave way to increasingly bright patches of morning as we crossed the courtyards, and I could hear servants, guards and petitioners moving through the palace around us, but Anupamā remained unusually quiet until we finally passed through the outer gate and emerged into the warmer, noisier streets of Kashi.

She took perhaps twenty steps before looking down at the bundle she held against her chest. "Ten cows," she murmured, as though the number might somehow have changed since we left the audience chamber.

Vaidikā glanced sideways at her while we walked. "That is generally what ten cows means."

Anupamā gave her an exasperated look, although the smile appearing at the corners of her mouth undermined it. "I know what ten means."

"I was beginning to wonder."

I smiled as I adjusted the cloth over my arm and moved around a pair of men carrying baskets in the opposite direction. "I suspect she is more surprised by owning them than by the number."

Anupamā immediately nodded and looked down at her reward again. "I have never owned anything like this. Not even close." She walked another few steps before her expression became thoughtful, and her fingers tightened slightly around the folded cloth. "Five of the cows will go to my family."

Vaidikā turned her head sharply toward her. "Five?"

"My late husband's family," Anupamā said, although the older woman clearly knew exactly whom she meant. "There are children to feed, and the household does not have much. Five cows will make a difference."

Vaidikā watched her closely as we continued along the street, and there was a firmness in her expression when she answered. "They kept you because you are family, girl. You owe them nothing for that."

"I know," Anupamā said, and although her voice remained gentle, there was enough certainty in it that Vaidikā looked at her more carefully. "That is exactly why I want to give them five. If I am part of the household, then when I have something worth sharing, I should share it. My brother-in-law contributes, his wife contributes and my mother-in-law contributes, and I contribute what I can through work and helping with the children." She glanced down at the bundle in her arms and smiled slightly. "Now I can contribute something more."

Vaidikā remained silent for several paces, studying her apprentice from the corner of her eye before giving one of her characteristic little grunts. "And the other five?"

Anupamā's expression softened as she looked ahead along the street. "Mine, along with the rest of the reward."

"Good," Vaidikā said immediately, and the finality in her voice made Anupamā laugh.

I glanced between the two women and smiled. "That seems sensible. Five cows are still substantial property, and a midwife with resources of her own has more choices."

Anupamā looked at me and nodded, but the mention of midwifery seemed to remind her of something because her expression changed and she became thoughtful again. We continued for a little while, weaving our way through the morning traffic as the palace receded behind us, until she finally shifted her bundle more securely against her body and glanced toward me.

"Iravan, what would it take to learn the things you did yesterday?"

I knew immediately what she meant. She had watched me control pain, strengthen an exhausted body, use Vis and Ars Mentalis in ways she could perceive only through their effects, and there was no useful answer that would turn those abilities into something she could simply study over the next few months.

I sighed softly as I considered how best to put it. "More time than any of us have."

Anupamā watched my face for a moment before nodding, and although there was disappointment in her eyes, there was also straightforward acceptance. "I thought that might be the answer."

Vaidikā glanced toward her apprentice. "At least you had the sense to ask."

Anupamā gave her a brief look and then turned back toward me as another thought occurred to her. "What about the healing oil you gave us yesterday?"

That made me smile. "That I can teach you."

Her entire expression brightened, and Vaidikā's attention sharpened at once.

"There is a condition," I continued, looking between them while we walked. "If I teach you, you must promise to teach Vaidikā afterward."

Vaidikā made a small sound and turned toward me with her eyebrows raised. "I could learn it directly from you."

"I do not doubt that for a moment," I said, inclining my head respectfully toward her, "but you are the best midwife in this part of Kashi, and I suspect that finding enough uninterrupted time for you would be considerably harder than finding it for Anupamā. If there is a birth you can attend without her assistance, she can spend that time with me, and I can teach her the plants, the preparation and the reasons for using each one. Then she can teach you at whatever pace fits around your work."

Vaidikā's eyes narrowed as she considered the arrangement, and Anupamā looked from her teacher to me without trying to hurry the decision. We continued several more steps before Vaidikā finally nodded.

"That would work."

Anupamā smiled immediately and turned toward me. "Then I promise."

I looked at her and smiled back. "Good. Then we will start with the plants and how to make them into usable oils."

------------------------------------------

Anupamā

Three days later I had just returned from teaching at the Gurukola ('School'), when a waiter informed me that Midwife Anupamā wanted to see me.

I glanced toward the entrance and found her waiting just beyond the shaded part of the courtyard, dressed simply and carrying a cloth bag over one shoulder, and when she saw me looking she smiled and inclined her head. I returned the greeting and crossed toward her, still carrying the writing board and notes I had brought back from the school.

"I hope I haven't come at a bad time," Anupamā said as I approached, her eyes dropping briefly toward the things in my hands.

"Not at all." I handed the board and notes to the waiter when he came close enough to take them, then looked back at her. "I have just finished teaching for the day."

Her smile grew slightly. "Then Vaidikā has found a birth where she can manage without me."

I smiled as I remembered our agreement. "And you decided not to waste the opportunity."

"She told me that if I spent the afternoon sitting at home when I could be learning, she would reconsider whether I had enough sense to remain her apprentice."

"That sounds like Vaidikā."

Anupamā laughed softly and shifted the bag against her shoulder. "She also told me to remember everything."

"That sounds even more like Vaidikā." I gestured toward the courtyard behind me. "Come. We should start while we have the time, but you may tell Vaidikā that if she expects to remember it all perfectly, I will expect her to teach me all she knows about midwifery in a single afternoon."

Anupamā stared at me for a heartbeat, then laughter escaped her before she could contain it, and she brought one hand briefly to her mouth as though imagining the expression Vaidikā would make when she delivered the message. "I will tell her exactly that."

"Please do."

Her eyes were still bright with amusement as she shifted the cloth bag higher on her shoulder. "She will probably tell you that you would need considerably more than an afternoon."

I glanced at her. "Then you may inform her that unreasonable expectations usually produce disappointment, whether people admit it or not."

Anupamā's smile widened again, and she shook her head as we crossed the courtyard together. "I think I am going to enjoy telling her that."

"I suspected you might," I said, and the way her smile sharpened told me I had judged correctly.

"She will blame you," Anupamā warned, although there was far too much amusement in her voice for it to sound like much of a warning.

"That seems fair," I replied, and she laughed softly as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

"Then I suppose we should make certain I learn enough today that she cannot complain too much."

"That," I said as we reached the doorway, "is a much more reasonable expectation." I opened the door and let her enter ahead of me, then followed her inside and glanced toward the shelves where I kept the medicines, oils and other supplies I had gathered since arriving in Kashi. "Just be aware that we first need to determine what you already know and what you call the plants I use." I smiled a little as I looked back at her. "I'm almost certain we do not use the same words for them."

Anupamā nodded thoughtfully and set her bag down near the wall before turning toward the shelves. "That seems likely. Vaidikā already uses several names for the same plant depending on who she is speaking to."

"That may actually help," I said as I moved closer to the table and began setting out a few of the dried plants and prepared oils I intended to use for the lesson. "If you can show me the plants you know and tell me every name you have for them, I can compare them to the names I learned elsewhere. Once we are certain we are speaking about the same thing, the rest becomes much easier."

Her expression brightened at that, and she stepped closer to the table, curiosity replacing the last of her amusement as she looked over the small collection in front of us. "How many different names do you know?"

I smiled as I picked up one of the dried plants between my fingers and held it out for her to inspect. "Enough that I have learned not to trust names until I have seen the plant."

--------------

We spent the next few hours talking about plants, and the lesson quickly became less about me simply teaching Anupamā and more about the two of us building a shared vocabulary out of leaves, roots, flowers, bark, smells and uses. Some plants she recognized immediately, though often by names I had never heard, while others only became familiar after I described where they grew, what part of the plant I used, or what effect I expected from it. In several cases she knew local plants that served much the same purpose as ones I had learned elsewhere, and that interested me far more than trying to force an old name onto something she already understood perfectly well.

By late afternoon the table was covered with small piles of dried leaves, seeds, bark and roots, and Anupamā had filled several pieces of writing material with notes while repeatedly stopping me to make certain she understood which parts mattered, how they should be dried, how long they could be stored and what signs showed that an oil or plant had spoiled.

By the time the light outside began to soften, we had both had enough for one day, so I called for food and we ate dinner in the courtyard while the heat lingered stubbornly in the stone around us.

Anupamā had relaxed considerably during the afternoon, and the careful apprentice who had arrived determined to remember everything had gradually given way to the woman beneath it, laughing more easily, arguing when she disagreed with something and occasionally giving me the same patient look Vaidikā used whenever she thought I was making a simple matter unnecessarily complicated.

After the plates had been cleared away we remained in the courtyard with cool drinks, letting the conversation drift into less serious things while evening settled around us and the pool caught the fading light in slow ripples.

I noticed Anupamā looking toward the water several times before she finally rested her cup on the table and turned toward me. "Iravan, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Her eyes flicked toward the pool again before returning to mine. "Would you allow me to use the pool for a little while? I would really like to cool down."

I followed her glance toward the water and smiled. "You are welcome to use it whenever you are here."

Relief passed through her, followed almost immediately by anticipation, nervousness and a warm surge of attraction that made the rest of her intentions rather obvious to me.

"Thank you," she said, and there was considerably more meaning in the smile she gave me than the words required.

I leaned back in the chair. "There are towels inside. I will have one brought out for you."

She thanked me again and rose, and while a servant went to fetch the towel Anupamā crossed toward the pool and began removing her clothing. Her movements were calm and deliberate, and although her attention remained mostly on what she was doing, I could feel how intensely aware she was of me. By the time she slipped the last garment aside and stood naked beside the water, excitement and self-consciousness were moving through her strongly enough that I found myself smiling.

She was beautiful, and she wanted me to notice.

Anupamā glanced over her shoulder and caught me looking, and the brief embarrassment in her expression gave way almost immediately to satisfaction. "Is there something interesting?"

I considered her with exaggerated seriousness. "I have been told I should pay attention during anatomy lessons."

Her lips parted, and then she laughed and shook her head. "Vaidikā should never have said that."

"I disagree. I thought it was very educational."

Anupamā gave me a look that was half accusation and half invitation before stepping into the pool, and when the cool water reached her she sighed audibly and lowered herself farther until it covered her shoulders. She swam away from the edge, dipped beneath the surface and came up again with her hair slicked back, then turned toward me with an expression that told me the water had done little to lessen anything except the heat.

I picked up my drink and let my gaze rest openly on her long enough that she knew perfectly well I appreciated what I saw.

"Are you staring, Iravan?" she asked.

"You would probably be disappointed if I wasn't."

She stopped in the water for half a heartbeat, then a slow smile spread across her face. "Perhaps I would."

"Then I see no reason to disappoint you."

Her laugh was softer this time, and she turned onto her back and floated for a while, letting the water carry her as the evening deepened around us. The tension between us had changed now that it had been acknowledged, and she swam without pretending that my attention meant nothing to her.

After a while she returned to the edge nearest me and rested her forearms on the stone, looking up at me with wet hair framing her face. Desire emanated from her, and there was no mistaking the lust in her eyes.

With a smile I rose and walked over to the edge of the pool. "Anupamā, unless you actively object, I'm going to kiss you as soon as you come up from the pool."

Her eyes widened slightly, but the pleasure that moved through her was immediate, and after a moment her smile deepened. "Why are you waiting until I come out?"

I looked down at her, letting my own interest show plainly now. "Because if this develops as I hope, I'm going to need you cooled down."

For a heartbeat she simply stared at me.

Then understanding reached her, colour rose across her face despite the cool water, and a low laugh escaped her as she lowered her forehead briefly against her crossed arms.

When she looked up again, the lust in her eyes had only grown stronger.

I sent her a smile and calmly walked back to the chair.

She stayed in the water after that, and I leaned back down in the chair as if I had all evening, enjoying the sight of a sexy woman in the water.

The pool held the last of the day's heat in a softer way than the courtyard stone, and Anupamā used it without hurry, turning onto her back, dipping under, coming up with her hair sleek against her skull and her shoulders shining. Every so often she looked at me. Not by accident. A glance over her wet shoulder, a slower one when she rested her arms on the rim, a little smile that asked whether I intended to keep my word or whether I needed more convincing.

I watched her, and I let her see that I was watching. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Lust moved off her in warm, steady waves, mixed with the bright self-consciousness of a woman who knew exactly how good she looked in the water and was still getting used to being looked at like this. When I did not rise and come to her, the teasing sharpened. She swam closer, let the water slip down her breasts as she stood, and held my eyes long enough that the invitation was unmistakable.

It still was not enough to bring me into the pool.

Anupamā seemed to reach the same conclusion. She crossed the last stretch of water, set her hands on the stone, and came out in one smooth motion, water sheeting off her skin and pattering back into the pool.

For a moment she only stood there, dripping, letting me look. Wet dark hair clung to her neck and the tops of her shoulders. Her breasts were full and well formed with the cold still tightening her nipples, her waist neat above the generous curve of her hips, and the water made a bright path down her stomach before it gathered and fell from the dark hair between her thighs. She was beautiful in the simple, living way that needed no ornament, and the lust coming off her now was no longer shy. It was decided.

She walked to me barefoot on the warm stone, leaving small dark prints, and did not ask permission a second time. She set one knee beside my hip, then the other, and settled across my lap still shining with pool water. Her wet skin met mine at once, cool breasts against my chest, damp thighs opening around my hips, the thin loincloth the only thing left between us. I felt the heat of her pussy through that scrap of cloth, the soft weight of her settling over the hardening shape of my dick, and the way her breath had already gone a little uneven.

"You stayed in the chair," she murmured, close enough that I felt the words on my mouth.

"You were supposed to cool down."

"I did." Her smile was small and not at all innocent. "It did not help as much as you hoped."

I put my hands on her waist, feeling the living warmth under the wetness, and she leaned in and kissed me.

Her mouth was cool from the water and then quickly not. I kissed her back, unhurried at first, tasting her, learning the shape of her lower lip and the faint catch in her breath when I deepened it. One of my hands slid up her back, following the wet line of her spine. The other moved over the curve of her hip and then higher, until my palm filled with the soft weight of her breast. She made a low sound into the kiss and pressed herself into the touch, her nipple tightening against my skin. I stroked her there, slow enough to be kind and firm enough that she would not mistake it for caution and felt her answering shiver run all the way down into her thighs.

We stayed like that for a while, kissing and learning each other with our hands. Her fingers found the back of my neck, then my shoulders, then the front of my chest, as if she needed to confirm that I was really there and not going to vanish into good manners. I caressed the underside of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the lush curve of her backside, and she rewarded every unhurried pass with a warmer press of her mouth. Water from her hair dripped onto my collarbone.

Then she shifted in my lap, and I felt her pussy settle firmer against my hard cock.

Anupamā felt it at once. A little sound left her, half surprise and half satisfaction, and she rolled her hips just enough to find the shape of me. Even that brief press told her what she wanted. The cloth was in the way, a coarse interruption against skin that had already grown too sensitive for it, and she reached down between us without wasting more of the kiss on it.

Her fingers tugged the loincloth aside, and then there was nothing left between us.

Her pussy settled over my stiff dick, hot and very wet, and she lowered herself just enough to let that softness slide along me, coating my cock in her juices. The first full stroke made my breath catch. I felt the open, silky heat of her pussy spread over the head, then the wet clasp of her lips folding around the shaft as she dragged herself from root toward tip.

Her juices made the next pass easier, a slick, intimate smear that left my dick covered with her. Every grind gave me the same sweet sequence: the softer give of her lips, the wetness between them, and then the firmer, aching little nub of her love-pearl rubbing along the underside, catching just under the head before she slid back again.

"You feel good," I murmured against her lips.

"So do you," she answered with another slow grind and a shaking little inhale when her love-pearl rode the underside of me.

The head of my dick was trapped in her wetness, and that small swollen pearl dragged over the sensitive skin of my stiff cock, leaving a tight, delicious streak of sensation behind it. I put a hand on her back and drew her closer, bringing her breasts to my chest and changing the angle of her hips. The next rub landed more truly. Her pussy opened flatter against me, her love-pearl pressed harder into the underside of my dick, and she moaned into my mouth, a helpless, happy sound. Her rhythm broke and then found itself again, shorter now, more concentrated, her wet lips sliding up and down my shaft in trembling strokes that kept returning to that one place.

The heat of her pussy along my cock was almost too much: wet, soft, and so slick that every grind sent a thick pulse of pleasure up the shaft and into my belly. I felt myself grow even harder under her, the head aching each time her juices smeared over it, and for a moment all I could do was stay still and feel how good she was against me.

With a smile, I reached out and found a breast, cupping it as I ran a thumb over her nipple and felt the way her whole body tightened when the pleasure sharpened.

Each grind smeared more of her over me. I felt how much wetter she was getting, how her inner heat seemed to kiss the length of my dick without ever swallowing it, how her love-pearl had grown distinct enough that I could follow it by touch alone as it rode me. She kissed me through it, sometimes neatly, sometimes not at all, her mouth going slack against mine when a particularly sweet pass made her shiver.

"Do not stop," she breathed.

I didn't point out that she was the one doing the grinding. Instead, I kissed her more deeply and kept her close, and she rubbed herself along my dick with an intensity that was no longer teasing.

The slickness of her juices made every movement easy. Her pussy stroked me in short, greedy slides, lips clinging, love-pearl dragging, and I felt her climbing in the small ways first: the flutter in her belly, the sudden tightness of her thighs, the way her fingers dug into my shoulders as if she needed something solid. The lust coming off her thickened, bright and single-minded, and then her breath caught hard.

She pressed her forehead to mine, moaned once, and came.

It went through her in a long, shaking wave. Her pussy slid against my dick in a few helpless, uneven strokes as the pleasure took her, wetter than before, fluttering open and then pressing down as if she wanted to keep that exact friction exactly where it was. I felt her love-pearl pulse against the underside of my shaft and felt a fresh wash of her juices warm the head of my dick.

Anupamā clung to me, shivering, her mouth open on a sound she tried and failed to keep quiet. I held her through it, hand firm on her back, feeling every tremor, feeling how soaked she had left me, how sweetly she shook herself apart on nothing more than that sliding heat. When the strongest of it passed, she sagged against my chest, still seated across me, still naked, still pulsing faintly where she rested over my aching dick, and her laugh was breathless and astonished against my throat.

I did not let her land completely.

The laugh was still warm against my throat when I put both arms around her and gathered her in, drawing her up my body so that her wet breasts slid over my chest and her mouth came back within reach. Anupamā made a small surprised sound and then melted into the hug, her arms looping around my neck, her weight easy in my hands. I kissed her while she was still trembling from the first climax, tasting the softness that follows pleasure, and she kissed me back at once, hungry again already, as if landing had never been the point.

I held her there a moment longer than the kiss required. My dick lay wet along the open heat of her pussy, slick from her climax, the head nestled in that soft cleft without entering her. I could feel how ready she still was, the lips plump and slippery around me, her love-pearl a distinct swollen pressure against the shaft. Then I eased the hug.

Her body slid down mine by that same small distance, and this time the head of my cock met her exactly where it needed to. She was so wet from coming that there was no search to it. The blunt head found the yielding mouth of her pussy and began to sink in under her own weight.

Anupamā broke the kiss with a gasp.

She was tight. After the long grind her entrance was swollen and sensitive, and my dick asked more of her than the sliding friction had. I felt her pussy close around the head, hot and reluctant and very wet, stretching slowly over that thickest part of me. Her juices made the way possible. She sank another fraction and I felt her inner lips part and cling to the shaft as it followed, a silky, sucking heat that took me in only as fast as her body would allow.

"Iravan," she whispered, the name shaky.

"I have you," I said against her mouth, and kept my hands on her back and hip so she could take the stretch at her own pace.

She did. A little more, and I felt her walls close around me in a living grip, then ease, then close again as she breathed through it. Another slow slide seated more of my cock inside her. I felt every bit of it: the wet heat dragging down the shaft, the sweet resistance of a pussy that had not been entered in some time, the way her love-pearl was now pressed between us because I was actually in her. When her hips at last met mine, I was buried to the root, and she sat there full of me, shivering, her forehead against mine. I could feel her pulse around my dick, small fluttering clenches, as if her body was still deciding it could hold all of me.

The lust coming off her soared as if the first climax had only opened a door. It rolled through her in a warm, bright rush, tightening her around my cock so hard that I had to breathe with her, and pulling a helpless sound out of her throat.

Then she began to move, rocking her hips back and forth in my lap. Forward, her love-pearl ground against me and her pussy dragged along the shaft in a tight, wet pull. Back, she took me to the hilt again and I felt her inner walls slide over me in one long, clinging stroke. The sound it made was soft and shameless. I felt her juices around the root of my dick, felt how hot she was inside, felt that first sweet resistance turn into a slicker grip as she found her rhythm.

She kissed me while she rocked, moaning into my mouth every time she pushed forward and rubbed herself on me. I stroked up her wet back and into her hair, and when my other hand closed over her breast, she made a deeper sound and pushed the soft weight of it into my palm. Her nipple was already tight. I brushed it with my thumb, and she shivered hard around my dick, her rocking turning needier.

"Yes," she breathed against my lips. "Like that."

I rolled the nipple more firmly and she moaned outright, loud enough that she might have been embarrassed if she had still had room for it. Her head tipped back for a moment, mouth open, wet hair clinging to her throat, and I felt her pussy contract around me as she rocked forward again. When I found the other breast she did not wait. She arched into the touch, offering herself, and the next roll of her hips made her gasp and laugh in the same breath.

My hand slid down over her waist and took a handful of her backside. Anupamā groaned and used the hold, pulling herself onto my cock as she rocked, keeping me deep so that every movement stroked her from the inside. A flush had spread over her chest and the tops of her breasts. She looked dazed and very pleased, eyes dark, lips wet from kissing.

"This is fantastic," she managed, and then laughed once at her own voice, breathless and happy.

"Oh yes," I groaned, and squeezed her breast as she took me to the root again.

It had been too long since I had last been inside a woman. I felt that now with a force that surprised me. Her pussy was a tight, wet sleeve around my stiff cock, hot enough that I could feel my own pulse against her inner walls, and the pleasure of it went straight down my spine. Each time she rocked forward I felt her squeeze, a living ripple that ran from the head down the shaft and made my stomach tighten. Each time she rocked back she opened just enough to stroke me through that heat and then closed again, slick and greedy. Her juices made the movement easy. Every contraction milked my dick, and I had to breathe through it because my body had already begun to gather itself.

She kept rocking, kissing me when she could, moaning when she could not. Her breasts moved against my chest and in my palm. Sometimes her mouth stayed on mine while her hips worked. Sometimes she could not keep the kiss at all and only clung to me, moaning into my throat when her love-pearl ground against me with my dick buried inside her, then found my mouth again as if she needed both at once.

Her rocking grew shorter, tighter, less playful. I felt the change around my dick first: the wet grip turning rhythmic, her pussy fluttering, then clamping down hard on the forward roll and holding me there. The same tightness finished me. After the weeks without this, there was no holding the pleasure back once she began to clench like that. My hands tightened on her. I thrust up into her once, twice, meeting her rock, burying myself as deep as the chair would allow.

"Sorry, sweetie," I said against her mouth. "I'm going to come soon."

"Yes," she gasped, sounding delighted. "Yes!"

She broke on the word, and I broke with her.

Anupamā came with a high, shaking moan, her pussy contracting around my cock in strong helpless pulses, squeezing the shaft, rippling over the head, soaking me in a fresh wash of heat. That grip pulled my climax out of me. I held her hard against my lap and spent myself inside her, my dick throbbing in that tight wet clasp as I filled her. Each of her contractions milked another pulse from me. I felt my seed leave me in thick, helpless jerks, felt her inner muscles work around the sensitive head, felt the heat of what I was giving her mix with how wet she already was. She clung to my shoulders and shook, moaning into the kiss, her hips making small frantic rocks that kept me buried while we came together.

For a few heartbeats there was nothing in the courtyard but that shared shaking. I stayed deep in her, cock still jumping inside her fluttering pussy, her breasts crushed to my chest, her mouth open against mine. When it loosened, she did not fall so much as settle, still joined to me, still holding my spent dick in that warm soaked grip, and she looked at me with wet dark eyes and a stunned little smile, clearly pleased that I had come with her.

We stayed joined, spending time kissing each other until the shaking left our hands. I put my arms under her and stood from the chair with Anupamā still in my lap, her legs tightening around my hips, my spent dick still held in that warm soaked grip. She made a small, surprised sound and clung to my neck, then laughed under her breath when she understood I did not mean to put her down.

"I can walk," she murmured.

"I know." I kissed her temple and started for the pool. "I would rather carry you."

Each step moved me inside her. Not much, just a thick, intimate shift that made her breath catch against my throat and made me feel how wet we still were. Her breasts pressed to my chest. Water from her hair ran down my shoulder. I held her by the backside and the back, careful of the stone, and she let herself be carried without any real protest at all.

I stepped into the pool with her still wrapped around me. The water rose around my legs, then my hips, then hers, and she sighed as the heat of the day and the heat we had made met something cooler. Only then did I ease her a little in my arms, and I slipped from her in a slow wet slide that drew a soft sound out of her. She looked down between us for a heartbeat, as if surprised by the sudden emptiness, then put her arms more comfortably around my neck and hung in the water against me.

I kissed her. She kissed me back, slower now, the hunger still there but no longer racing. My hands moved over her wet back, the curve of her waist, the softness of her backside beneath the water. She stroked my shoulders and chest, fingers lingering, and every so often she pressed her mouth to the corner of mine as if checking that I was still smiling.

I was.

Anupamā drew back just far enough to see my face. Water beaded on her lashes. Her cheeks were still flushed, and she looked well-loved and a little shy about how openly she had wanted it.

"You said you were sorry," she said. "Before you came. What for?"

I brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek and let my hand stay there.

"For finishing so soon," I said. "It has been a while since I was with a woman. You felt too good. I would have liked to last longer for you."

Her mouth opened, then closed again. The shy look warmed into something brighter. "You thought I would mind?"

I considered it for a moment. "Not really. To be honest, it's more a question of me wanting to spend more time pleasuring you."

Anupamā laughed under her breath and kissed me once, firmly, as if that settled a foolish idea.

"I came with you," she said against my mouth. "I wanted that. You can be greedy next time."

"I will," I said, and kissed her again, slower, my palm sliding down her wet spine.

She made a pleased sound and settled closer in the water, her breasts against my chest, her legs drifting around mine. We stayed like that for a while, kissing and caressing with no hurry left in it, the pool holding us while the courtyard went on being quiet, and I felt her smile against my mouth more than once.

--------------------

Just as I had promised her, I was greedy the next time and the evening had turned into night before we just lay naked beside each other on the bed, while I absently let a hand caress her back.

The heat of the day had finally begun to retreat from the house, and a faint movement of cooler air came through the open shutters every now and then, touching skin that was already beginning to dry after the exertions of the last several hours. Anupamā lay partly against me with her head resting near my shoulder and one leg comfortably tangled with mine, while my hand moved slowly along the warm curve of her back, from her shoulder down toward her waist and then up again.

My body was pleasantly tired, the kind of deep physical satisfaction that made simply lying still seem like an excellent use of time, and Anupamā appeared to share the feeling because she had barely moved for several minutes beyond the occasional adjustment against me and the slow tracing of her fingertips across my chest.

Anupamā shifted slightly against me before lifting her head, and her dark hair slid across my shoulder as she propped herself up enough to study my face. "What are you thinking about?"

That made me chuckle, because there were quite a few possible answers and several of them involved the naked woman currently pressed against my side. I let my fingers travel lazily down her back again before answering. "All the things we didn't do."

For a heartbeat she stared at me as if she was trying to decide whether I could possibly be serious, and then she laughed, the movement pressing more of her against me while amusement brightened her tired face. "Anything you missed?"

I slipped my arm farther around her and pulled her closer until her cheek rested against my chest again, then kissed her hair and breathed in the warm scent of her skin beneath the traces of oil, sweat and whatever she normally used in her hair. "Not at all. I think it's more like my mind trying to tell me that I should spend a lot of time with you. Both in and out of bed."

That quieted her laughter, and when Anupamā lifted her head again there was a different expression in her eyes, softer and more thoughtful, while through the contact between us I felt the pleasure my words gave her mixed with a small flicker of surprise. It made me wonder whether she had expected this to be something enjoyable but separate from the rest of our lives, an afternoon of teaching that had become dinner, swimming and eventually several very pleasurable hours together, after which we would simply return to being Iravan and Midwife Anupamā whenever we next met.

I had no objection to uncomplicated pleasure, but I liked her. She was intelligent and curious, she had enough confidence in her own knowledge to argue with me when something I said contradicted her experience, and beneath the more careful behaviour I had first seen was a warm, amusing woman with a decidedly mischievous streak once she felt comfortable enough to let it show. Discovering that we were extremely compatible in bed had merely added another very enjoyable reason to spend time with her.

"I would like that," Anupamā finally said, and the quiet certainty in her voice made me smile.

"Good," I murmured, and when she settled against me again I resumed the slow movement of my hand across her back, feeling the smooth warmth beneath my palm while her breathing gradually returned to the lazy rhythm it had held before she asked the question.

For a while neither of us said anything, because there was nothing particularly urgent that needed saying. Somewhere beyond the room I could hear the household settling into its nighttime routines, with footsteps crossing the courtyard and a murmur of voices that faded as someone moved deeper into the house, while farther away Kashi remained very much alive beyond the walls. The sounds were softer now, stripped of the relentless activity of the day, but carts still rattled occasionally over the streets and voices carried through the warm darkness, accompanied by a barking dog somewhere in the distance and the faint chorus of insects that had emerged with the night.

Anupamā eventually released a long, contented breath against my chest. "I should go home."

"Yes," I agreed, because she probably should.

She remained exactly where she was, warm and comfortable against me, and after a few moments I felt her fingers begin tracing an idle line across my chest again.

I smiled at the ceiling and continued stroking her back.

Perhaps half a glass passed before Anupamā finally raised herself onto an elbow and looked down at me, her expression narrowing into amused accusation when she discovered that I was still making absolutely no effort to encourage her departure. "You are supposed to tell me that I really should go."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious about why she thought I should assist with something I had no particular desire for her to do.

"Because otherwise I am going to stay here."

I considered the naked woman lying against me, the warmth of her body, the comfortable weight of her leg across mine and the extremely pleasant prospect represented by her threat, then looked back into her eyes. "I fail to see the problem."

Her lips twitched, and she tried to maintain the stern expression for perhaps another heartbeat before laughter defeated it. "The problem is that Vaidikā knows where I am."

"Ah." That was admittedly a stronger argument, and I nodded gravely while allowing my hand to settle at the small of her back. "That does change matters."

"Yes, it does," Anupamā agreed, although she was still smiling.

"Terrifying woman."

That earned me another laugh, and Anupamā pushed herself upright before sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment, gathering enough determination to actually stand. I let my gaze wander over her while she rose and began collecting the clothing we had scattered around the room during the evening, enjoying the uncomplicated pleasure of watching a beautiful naked woman move around my bedroom while she searched for the various pieces. When she bent to retrieve one near the foot of the bed she glanced back, caught me looking and straightened with an expression of exaggerated suspicion.

"Yes?"

"I told you I liked looking at you," I reminded her, shifting onto my side and supporting my head with one hand while making no effort whatsoever to look elsewhere.

"You have been looking at me for hours."

I sent her a smile. "That doesn't make the sight less beautiful or tempting."

Anupamā stared at me for a moment before shaking her head, although the smile that spread across her face rather undermined any attempt at disapproval. She wrapped the cloth around herself and adjusted it, then gathered her hair and tried to restore some order to it with her fingers, which proved considerably more difficult after the pool and everything that had happened afterward. I watched her struggle with it for a little while before finally getting out of bed myself and finding my own clothing, and by the time we were both reasonably presentable there was very little outward evidence of how we had spent the evening.

At least from a distance.

I suspected Vaidikā would take one look at her apprentice and know perfectly well.

The thought amused me as we walked together through the house and into the courtyard, where the lamps cast small pools of warm light over the brick and stone while the water in the pool reflected them in wavering streaks. The air was noticeably cooler now, enough that the difference felt pleasant against my skin after the warmth of the bedroom, and Anupamā slowed as we crossed the courtyard, glancing once toward the pool before looking at me with a private little smile that made it perfectly clear she was remembering exactly where the evening had changed direction.

At the entrance she stopped and turned toward me rather than immediately stepping out into the street. "I do want another lesson," she said, and there was enough emphasis on the words that I knew exactly what clarification was coming.

"I assumed so."

"A real lesson," Anupamā added, narrowing her eyes slightly when she saw my smile.

"Anupamā," I said, laughing softly as I stepped closer and rested my hands lightly at her waist, "I was serious when I said I wanted to spend time with you outside the bed."

The teasing left her expression, and for a moment she simply looked up at me while the pleasure I had felt earlier returned, quieter this time but no less genuine. "Good."

I leaned down and kissed her, keeping it brief because if I allowed myself to enjoy her mouth for too long there was a distinct possibility that neither of us would show the necessary discipline to get her home before morning. When I straightened again, Anupamā remained close for another moment, smiling up at me, before finally stepping away.

"Good night, Iravan."

"Good night, Anupamā."

I watched while she left with one of the household servants carrying a lamp to accompany her through the darkened streets, and I remained at the entrance until the light disappeared beyond the neighbouring buildings before turning back toward the courtyard. The night air felt pleasantly cool now, and I chuckled as I crossed the courtyard and glanced toward the pool.

It had been a very good day.

The lesson had gone better than I had expected, dinner and the conversation afterward had been enjoyable, and Anupamā had turned out to be even more interesting once she relaxed enough to let the careful apprentice disappear for a while. I had learned considerably more about her than which plants she knew and what Vaidikā had taught her, and while the last several hours had certainly provided a particularly memorable education, it was the combination that appealed to me most. I liked talking with her. I liked teaching her and learning from her in return. I liked making her laugh.

And Goddess knew I liked sharing pleasure with her.

There was no particular reason to make anything more complicated out of it. Anupamā was a beautiful, intelligent woman whose company I enjoyed, and she had made it quite clear that she wanted to see me again.

I reached my room and stopped just inside the doorway as I looked at the thoroughly disordered bed, then shook my head with a quiet laugh as memories of exactly how it had reached that state supplied themselves rather enthusiastically.

Chuckling, I sat down in the chair where we had started. I was definitely looking forward to our next lesson.

---------------- To be continued --------------------------

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