§090 Midwife

Arc-Silvain climbed the stairs until she was a few steps below Taylor, who bent his knees slightly and prepared to counter her first move. His enhancements were all in place and tuned for combat.

The arc woman offered a small bow. "May I join you, if first I apologize? I brought snacks." She produced a paper bucket and shook it. Something crunchy-sounding rustled inside. Taylor didn't harbor high hopes for the human-suitability of anything the air spirit might bring to a battle holiday.

"That depends on the quality of the apology," he decided. If she were full of excuses, he could tell her to go elsewhere.

"People of Cazenac," she called out, turning her head to include everyone watching, "know that I, Wen-Silvain, have wronged the magician known as Taylor. I attempted to abduct him from his home. For this serious offense, I apologize. My partner and I were wrong to attempt it.

"Know also this!" she continued, "that Taylor has cleansed the corruption of Uroda, and freed my friend of many ages, Wen-Uroda, from her imprisonment. For these deeds, and many others besides, he is known among great spirits as Dux Twilight. Let none doubt his strength!"

The stands roared with approval. Taylor blushed under his mask and tried to remember how to accept such public enthusiasm with grace. He nodded slightly at the crowd in several directions (including behind him), waving as he did so, and then sat down before the act got old. The day was not going as planned. With any luck, the episode would be forgotten in a week or two.

It might have felt better if Silvain didn't look so smug about it, but at least the apology was free of excuses and prevarications. He couldn't say he was happy to see her, not after she aided Reginar's attempt at kidnapping, but she wasn't an enemy. And she owed him, which counted for something among spirits.

"Fine. If you're going to make such a big deal about it, I guess you can join us." Taylor introduced her to Blake in Orlut and pointed out Kasper. The boy saw them watching and waved. 

"Snacks" turned out to be multiple buckets of locust, dusted with different spices and fried until they were golden and crunchy. Blake's only comment was, "bait," but he ate half a bucket's worth on his own. Taylor had eaten worse things with less seasoning and found he didn't mind the locusts at all. His main complaint was that they weren't very filling.

Silvain was more ancient than any beastkin present and knew several of the older ones by name. Visitors kept stopping by during the competition to say hello, thank Silvain for her past assistance to the town, and get introduced to "the Dux". Whatever hope Taylor had of keeping that particular title under wraps was blown to bits.

Kasper proved to be a crowd favorite. Fights continued until one party couldn't continue or they touched ground outside the ring. Several times, he threw or pinned fighters twice his size. After being bodily tossed out of the ring, he came in fourth in his section.  Kasper didn't even mind the loss: he was competing against older, larger opponents and could strive to his heart's content.

Bruised but happy, Kasper ran to join them in the stands but proceeded to ignore Silvain entirely. He was so cold to her that Taylor thought he would challenge the spirit to a fight. He hadn't forgiven her for nearly taking Taylor away the year before, no matter how adequate her apology.

"We should go," said Silvain, after a runner slipped her a message.

"Go where?" The final section had just started competing, and Taylor was looking forward to watching them. They were the most powerful combatants, equivalent to the third tier or higher. 

"To the priory, to see your midwife. She's not lucid most days, but she is today. If you don't catch her before the sun goes down, it could be a while before you get another chance."

"Kasper, look after Blake, okay? His Arcaic is terrible."

"Okay," he laughed. "Don't get abducted. Again." Kasper squeezed a suspicious glare at Silvain, a silent warning not to try anything.

The priory was a pair of old stone buildings on top of the hill. Silvain offered to fly there while carrying him, but Taylor chose to climb the stairs. He could have levitated himself up, but going by foot felt like the best way to annoy her. He was definitely not going to trust her to carry him, not after last time.

Of the two old buildings, the tall square one was a temple to the goddess Gelexia, and the long one was a home for priests and orphans. "This is where I leave you, Dux Twilight. Try the temple first. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for." 

The mighty gryphon replaced the short arc woman. Her head and wings were of a bird of prey, while her body was like a lion covered in feathers. As she prepared to fly, she had one more thing to say.

"I thought I would never speak to my friend again. Thank you." 

The powerful creature charged off the hill and took flight.

Inside the temple, Taylor found a bearkin boy sweeping the floors. Before he could ask any questions, the boy said to wait for the priestess and took off running, leaving Taylor alone.

The temple was a tall square room with four pillars bearing most of the building's load. The pillars were carved like tree trunks that spread their branches to become the roof above, carved like a canopy of leaves. High windows let in light that reflected and diffused off beaten brass panels. A gentle, golden aura lit the statue at the center of the room.

The temple was old, seven or eight hundred years by Taylor's guess, but the idol was far, far older. It had the look of something left outside for millennia, worn by touch and weather until her stone features blurred and her body's details were lost. 

It was a depiction of Gelexia that Taylor had read about but never seen. She had the head of a proud woman, and her body was that of a beast, perhaps a wolf or another canid. She lay on her side, stretched out to offer her many breasts to a brood of pups. The greedy things fed from her, shouldering each other for space, but none were left out. There was always enough for her litter.

Even through time-softened features, Gelexia's gaze made him wary. She was judging him, deciding if he was a threat to her infant family. It was unnerving.

"She likes you," said a voice nearby. A rabbitkin woman in a plain white tunic walked past him and placed a hand on the idol's plinth. She bent forward to whisper into Gelexia's ear and then glanced at Taylor from the side, as if they were gossiping about him. Her holy symbol was a medallion with a human face on one side and a canid face on the other.

Possibly, she was a little crazy. On the other hand, she might actually hear the gods. Stranger things existed in this world, and Taylor was one of them.

"Gisela will answer your questions, but are you sure you want the answers?"

"That's the thing about answers. Sometimes, you don't know if you want them or not until long after you get them."

The priestess giggled, "That's true," and walked away. "Follow, traveler."

Taylor had to pass by the idol to catch up to the priestess, and gave Gelexia a solemn nod. He could feel the goddess's eyes on him as he left.

They crossed a green lawn into the building next door and climbed to the second floor. There was a room at the end of the hall with a magic circle by the door, and a chair nearby. The circle prevented sound from escaping the room. There was a tiny bell mounted on the wall, tied to a string threaded through a tiny hole into the room beyond. Whomever was inside could not be heard, but they could call for help.

"Go on," coaxed the priestess. "She's waiting. I'll be right here."

Taylor pushed the door and entered.

Gisela was an old bearkin woman, with more gray than color in her muzzle and fur. She sat up in bed with reading glasses on and a book in her lap. The room was small, but warm and sunny.

"Don't just stand there like a turnip. Pull up a chair and sit down."

He stood just inside the doorway, too shocked to answer; Not because of her words, but because of the language she used. He knew a silence barrier was active in the room, but closed the door behind him as if burying a secret.

"It's a good book," prodded Gisela. "You'll need to talk if you want my attention."

"It's been a long time since I've heard Mi'iri." Taylor found a chair and pulled it close to her bed. "How did you learn it?"

"How did you learn it?" she countered.

"Probably not the same way you did. I already knew it when I came here, to this world."

She closed her book. "Now that's interesting. Are you one of them?"

"If you mean Mi'iri, then no, I'm not. But I served them in a past life. That's how I learned their language."

"Oh!" It wasn't the kind of answer she was expecting. She thought for a moment and asked, "How did that work out for you?"

"It was fine for a while, but it ended suddenly." He had lived as an auxiliary intelligence for a Great Contemplative Sage, helping to categorize and catalog information. At one point, he had solved a tricky problem but learned forbidden knowledge along the way. His reward was a brief communication of gratitude, a painless death, and another life.

"That could describe most lives."

"It could," he chuckled. "My name is Taylor, but I was born Bilius d'Mourne, son of Sybil d'Mourne, previously of house Augberg. I'm here because you might be the midwife who attended my birth."

"Yes, I know. I remember your birth very well. What do you want to know, young man? I will answer as best I can."

He half-believed it couldn't be so easy. All he had to do was get here, and he could have answers for the asking. The priestess was right to warn him to be cautious, but he had already decided.

"I have two questions. Why did my mother die? And how did I become cursed?"

"Straight to the big ones," she mumbled. "Do you need that mask? I find it very hard to talk to expressionless boards of wood."

"I suppose not. I have other protections. Let me know if you start feeling hostile or afraid." He removed the mask and set it aside, examining her for any reaction. Her eyes mapped his face with keen interest.

"You look like her." She drummed her fingers on the book in her lap. "Let's see. Where to begin? Your mother had been dying for some time. She had an illness that afflicts powerful mages and destroys their mana channels. Her husband thought she was using a contraceptive, so he was furious that she got pregnant."

Grisela halted her story. "Do I need to explain what contraceptives are, or how babies are made?"

Taylor almost laughed in spite of the serious topic. "No. I understand. Please, continue."

"Hmm, good. I'm not the best person to give that speech to a boy. Let's see … he was furious and didn't want her to have the baby, but she kept it anyway. The chances of either of you surviving were," the gray muzzle shook back and forth, "dismally poor. Sybil was a vivacious woman. Even when she was sick, she lit up a room. But her decision to have a third child cut her life short."

"So why'd she do it?"

"That's where I come into the picture. You see, I knew she was ill, so I asked her to have a baby."

That was … a lot to unpack. This woman was the reason his mother was dead. Or, died sooner rather than later. She was also the reason Bilius existed at all. Without this old beastkin … what?

"I'm going to need you to explain that. Why did you ask Sybil d'Mourne to have a third child if you knew it would kill her?"

Gisela heaved a sigh and looked out the window. From the hilltop, most of her view was an endless blue sky streaked with wind-torn clouds. "The gods told me to. Find a human woman to bear a vessel for the gods. That was their command. I could have refused, of course. One may always say no. But I didn't want to fail the gods. Not when they were finally speaking to me so clearly.

"This all started long before you were born. I went and found a woman and told her that her child would be special. I attended the birth of a baby boy. Mother and infant were healthy, and the father was overjoyed. Then, I gave the blessing the gods demanded. It was as if the child's very nature changed in front of us. What was cute became disgusting. What was loved became an object of fear.

"The father rejected both of them and sent them away, so the mother did her best with the hateful child. She moved back in with her family, hired a series of wet nurses, and took him to the best curse-breakers she could find. Nothing worked. She abandoned him when he was a year old, and he died alone.

"I knew when the child died, because I received the same command as before. Find a human woman to bear a vessel for the gods. But this time, I understood the consequences. From that point forward, I always tried to prepare mothers for what was coming. The vessels were born, they lived a while, but they always died by age fifteen, always through some curse-related mishap.

"For eighty years, I convinced them to have children who would grow up cursed and alone. Each was in a different city and province from the last, to avoid detection. If I were a human or a dwarf, I would have thought my efforts were in vain. But a beastkin can afford a century-long project. So I kept trying, until you. Sybil jumped at the chance to make her death mean something. That's why she had you, to give her death meaning."

The bearkin shifted uncomfortably on her bed. "These old bones," she muttered. "I'm out of time. I can't do another one. So when Wen-Silvain told me that the d'Mourne child was thriving, I knew I could die in peace."

She went back to watching clouds, while Taylor chewed on everything she had told him. She had cursed him, on behalf of the gods, who wanted to prepare a vessel. His mother had chosen this fate for him, even knowing the cost.

"What took you so long?" Gisela demanded. "I tried and tried, and you wouldn't come. Why not? All those children. Did I choose the wrong women? Was there something wrong with the vessels? Why didn't you come?" 

"I already had a life, and I was living it. That's all."

"I find that answer quite selfish for one called by the gods." She snorted. "In fact, it's banal. Here I am, sacrificing children for a greater cause, and you refuse to answer because you don't want to?"

Taylor tried not to be angry with the old woman. "Imagine this. You have a place, you have people, you have purpose. You have everything a life is supposed to be. Do you answer the summons to another world, or not?"

"You answer! If destiny reaches out, you answer the call!"

It was Taylor's turn to snort. "But it's usually not destiny calling. I've done this several times. Usually, it's a team of magicians working for some petty monarch who wants a weapon to fight his enemies, in a war he started. Sometimes, it's a forgotten machine on a timer. Once, it was some kids fooling around with a book they shouldn't have had. Sometimes, getting summoned is a complete accident!

"And these things do not come with explanations or guarantees of authenticity. I never know who's calling. So I can let every random idiot with a spellbook kidnap me, or I can protect myself. I won't apologize for living the life I had."

She peered at him over her glasses. "If your life was so good, then why did you come?"

"I got old and died."

"Oh," she said. "Good answer."

They both watched the clouds for a few minutes. "If I had known about the children, I might have come sooner."

Gisela gave him a sympathetic look. "You outlived your loved ones, didn't you?"

"I had plenty of grandchildren. But it wasn't the same."

"The ending is rough," admitted Gisela. 

They watched the sky together as her eyes glazed over, and she gradually forgot who he was.