[Flashback]Killing Me Softly (Veldrys)

[Syllke Skyglow]

SERAN GUEST STORYTELLER permissions Summer 50, 510 A.V. A prodigious yawn pried her jaws apart. Dark circles under her eyes emphasized their hollow, somewhat sunken appearance. The pregnancy was taking its toll - the psychological torture even more so. And it was torture, no question about it. The spider men could call it what they would. They could try to justify it, to maintain a supreme sense of callousness towards the women and girls they sacrificed so blithely – whose anguish and mental agony they so easily turned a blind eye to. But it was torture nonetheless, and Seran was suffering. The physical demands on her body, within days now of bringing forth the life she carried inside her, were mounting. Swollen feet, aching back, indigestion and a bladder squeezed now to the size of walnut – and the baby which wiggled and turned and poked at her in the most amusing way. Though, for the girl, there was little to nothing to smile about. As she rubbed her hand thoughtfully over her swollen belly, she could feel only dread, and a great overweening sadness. The anger was gone – to be replaced by terror. But it was a terror – an unfathomable horror – so profound, so bone deep that her mind could not face it. And so, she focused instead on the hope. For a secret hope lay within her breast – one that she had shared with no-one. No-one could know, what might be. Even if it were so, she did not know what the ultimate outcome would be. But she could hope. As long as she didn’t know for sure, there was always that spark – that dream – which lay in every woman’s thoughts . . . every woman who resided in The Nest, that is. It was a hope that all women of child bearing years shared across the lands of Mizahar. But for those in the Nest, it was an especially bittersweet, and futile, hope – to live to see the birth of their child. To hold the embodiment of those months of waiting and planning and those little smiles when they thought about what was about to enter their lives. To hold that son or daughter to their breast and begin that life long commitment to another’s care and well being. All this the women and girls of The Nest might hope for – though they all knew well enough that it could never be. But Seran . . . Her hand moved from her protruding abdomen to brush a strand of hair out of her face. Moving like a duck, she entered the Place of Purging, nodding perfunctorily to the guards who stood by, familiar faces now after all there months, despite the rotations. Nitari, the female Symenestra who was accompanying Seran today, waved away the one guard who had peeled himself away from the others in order to escort them to a room. “She’s fine. I’ll be alright.” Nitari said, and she patted Seran’s thin arm. “You’d think they’d know by now you’re not one of the troublesome ones.” Seran only looked at the floor, nodding silently, as they entered the examination room. “Wait here, dear, and I’ll let Veldrys know that you’re here.” The human girl did not fail to hear the key turning in the lock as Nitari went in search of the healer. Quiet and meek though she might be, still, the Symenestra would never truly trust a surrogate. At the thought of Veldrys, the girl smiled sadly. He had been one small source of comfort to her – more gentle of manner than the other medics, who were transparent in their unconcern for her – other than as a vessel that contained a precious new ‘one of them.’ Still – Veldrys was only there for the same purpose, when it came down to it. To make sure she stayed healthy and strong – long enough to give birth. And then . . . She sat wearily on the bed, lowering herself awkwardly and then leaning her weight back on one hand as the other went instinctively to her tummy. Absentmindedly, she began to hum a little lullaby as she waited.

[Veldrys]

Sometimes Veldrys wished that things were different. Sometimes, when he looked at those women that they brought to him, he could almost feel their pain. They called his work ‚animal husbandry‘, those other medics and Hellebore above all, but sometimes when he looked into the eyes of those unfortunate souls he could see something there, a spark, intelligence. Were the truly inferior as those around him claimed? Were they not living, breathing beings, just like the Symenestra? They talked, just like them, they loved, they died, they created art, just like them. Would it not be more appropriate to treat them as their equals?

Sometimes he wished there were another way. Sometimes he was convinced that they should concentrate more on finding ways to weaken the venom rather than abducting woman after woman. Maybe, if they let the priestesses bear their children, maybe Viratas himself would have mercy on them and let them live. Sometimes he accepted the Harvest as necessary. The Viratassa, the holy book of his god, claimed that all blood was precious, but it was equally important to preserve one’s own race.

It hurt to look at all those empty houses that had once been filled with life, to face all those couples that were desperate for a child. His was a dying race. Was it not acceptable to do whatever it took to prevent their extinction? Wasn’t it better if others died instead of them, if they sacrificed women that didn’t even belong to their own race?

He didn’t know. He couldn’t decide. He would never be like those foolish people that voiced their criticism openly, that would go as far as liberating surrogates and making an enemy of everybody that mattered in Kalinor – but sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder ...

Maybe that was why he had chosen to work here, at the Purging, no matter how much it hurt sometimes. He wasn’t ready to oppose the Harvest, at least not yet, because it was such an integral part of his world, because he understood why they did it, in a way, but he could at least treat the surrogates with kindness. They deserved a little kindness if they were going to give their life for the Symenestra.

Some of the surrogates were problematic. He had dealt with women that had stabbed themselves, that had tried to cut the baby out. Others had lost their mind. And yet others had tried to flee, and they had been crippled so that they couldn’t run anymore – they didn’t need their legs after all to give birth. But Seran, Seran was a pleasant girl. She was quiet. She didn’t rebel, at least not openly. She seemed to have accepted the inevitable, to some extent at least, and thus he found himself looking forward to seeing her sometimes.

He appeared not to soon after they had brought her to the Purging. Veldrys was one of the youngest medics at the Purging, but twenty years of age, slender, handsome, with amethyst eyes. He didn’t look threatening. He didn’t look cruel. He was dressed in silk as they all were and had a bag with him that contained his instruments and a few different salves and potions. There was a gentle smile on his face. He wanted her to be at ease, if that was at all possible when the inevitable was growing nearer and nearer.

As he heard that she was humming, he arched an eyebrow. „This melody, Seran, is it from your home?“ he wanted to know. He tried to act normal, as if she was just a young woman that was looking forward to the birth of her first child, even though they both knew that this was not the case. „How are you feeling? Did you notice anything out of the ordinary recently?“

[Syllke Skyglow]

Her hazel eyes lifted at the sound of the turning key but then dropped again, as the young healer stepped into the room. Seran smiled weakly. She would not have classified Veldrys as a friend – she had no friends here. Not even the other surrogates were friends, for it was just too depressing for her to grow close to the others, knowing they would all share the same fate. So Seran typically kept more to herself than some of the other girls, who still seemed to be able to push reality away, and chat and gossip and even giggle sometimes. But though Veldrys was no intimate, she had found his manner to be soothing, in some odd way. She knew why he was here, today as on all other previous occasions that they had met. She knew his job was to keep her alive, keep her healthy, but only because that was necessary in order to produce a healthy infant Symenestra. But at least he seemed to care – to be genuine when he asked about how she was, as if she was actually an individual, in her own right, and not just an incubator. Nitari, one of the female Symenestra whose duty was to oversee and ensure the care of the surrogates in the Nest, had told Seran that Veldrys was a bit of an anomaly. There were few healers here in the Purging. Most were medics – cold and indifferent, if not outright cruel in their attitudes, even if they did not resort to physical torture of their wards. Seran was fortunate, in this small way, to have been attended to by Veldrys so frequently in the past almost nine months. The pregnancy had been very hard on the girl, beginning with massive amounts of the nausea that early pregnancy brings. She had been virtually unable to hold down any sustenance, and Nitari and the other caretakers had fussed and clucked over her. But it had finally been Veldrys’ ministrations, and the tonic that he had concocted, that had brought her relief. Still, she continued to lose weight at a shocking rate, and this had them all shaking their heads over her once more. Veldrys had again been consulted, and had traced the source to the low grade fever the girl seemed to be unable to shake. Another course of treatment with some medicine that he had tracked down and compounded, and finally her body began to pick up some of the lost pounds. From that point forward, it seemed that the young healer had made it a point to keep a close eyes on Seran, personally supervising her care in terms of her health. Whether this was his own initiative, or if he had been instructed to do so by someone higher up, Seran did not know. Nor would she ask. She preferred, in her own pathetic way, to imagine that Veldrys took the time to visit with her during her check ups, and talk to her and make sure that she was alright, because he cared – if not for her as a young woman, than at least as another person, another creature deserving of such consideration. If she was wrong in her presumption, she didn’t want to know it. So it was that when Veldrys entered the small, spartan examining room, she smiled back at him, truly happy to see him, despite the dread that clutched at her heart. His exotic, pretty looks brought a bitter sweet pang to her chest as well, as she momentarily thought of her captor – the one whose child she was supposed to produce in perhaps just a few days. Denalys had very similar coloring – pale skin, silvery hair, violet eyes. She often wondered if the two men were related, knowing now how small the population of their race was. It wouldn’t be surprising. But she had never asked. She didn’t want to think that Veldrys was reporting back to his relatives about her condition, congratulating Denalys and his wife on their soon to be child. There were just so many things that Seran forced herself not to consider, as the day grew closer, her own days quickly approaching an end. She nodded at his question, struggling a bit to push herself back more upright. “Yes,” she said softly, her eyes taking in the bottom of his colorful robe as her gaze remained downturned. Her tone was wistful. “It’s a lullaby – one very common in Lhavit. I suppose it’s very old. My grandmother sang it to me as a child, and she told me once that her grandmother had sung it to her as well.” Her words dropped away, as she felt the lump in her throat, and the slight sting under her eyelids. No – she would not waste the few precious moments that she had with the one person here who she had ever wanted to talk to with crying. It wasn’t that she wanted to be strong. She just knew how useless tears were. Her eyes finally lifted to his, and her smile became less tentative. “I can’t sleep. Every time I lay down, he starts his acrobatics.” She couldn’t help it. Despite everything, despite the dread, any thought of her child made her happy. She wanted him, or her, to be healthy – desperately so. For, regardless whether her secret proved to be correct or not, she wanted her child to live. Even as a Symenestra, she would have it live and be healthy and grow and be happy. Because, otherwise, then her entire life – and this terrible end – would be for nothing. She despised the Symenestra for what they did to her, and the other surrogates. She despised Denalys for what he had done to her. But, even knowing what was to come, she could not despise the life she carried within her. This child was half of herself – and she loved it beyond reason. If she did not survive its birth, she hoped and prayed that at least the baby would. The gods could not be so cruel as to take both of them, could they? “So,” she continued in the same soft lilting voice of her homeland. “I think that’s a good sign. “And I can still eat – a bit at a time, like you told me. The burning in my throat is less.” Her hands rubbed over her swollen stomach. “He feels as big as me almost.” Her smile wilted a bit, but she went on. Avoiding the question wouldn’t relieve her mind any. “Do you – do you think you can tell . . . when it will be? How soon?” There was no doubt whatsoever about what upcoming event she was referring to.

[Veldrys]

„And now you are singing it to your child ...“ Veldrys murmurred thoughtfully. It almost seemed to him as if she cared about this child, this little parasite that would poison her and kill her, that would liquify her insides. Did she love it? Was some small, unreasonable part of her actually looking forward to the birth? There were so many questions on his mind, so many things he wanted to ask her. Part of him wanted to understand, needed to understand what was going through her mind. He wanted to ease some of her pain, even though his colleagues all claimed that it was better not to get involved, that it was better to see Seran and all those others as nothing more than living incubators. But would she really appreciate the questions? Did she want to talk about it or would it only cause her pain? What good was talking about it anyway? It wouldn’t change anything ...

„Are you from Lhavit?“ he asked. That was a safer question. „I’ve been to Lhavit once, and you don’t look like the people I saw there ...“ His eyes darkened a little as he said this. In Lhavit he had been free. There had been no conflict of conscience, no dying surrogates. There had only been a halfblood, a brief romance, a few kisses under the stars. Maybe he should have stayed, even though he had a duty to his people.

He didn’t know if the other medics ever asked the surrogates about their past, but to him it was important. In his opinion they ought to get to know them a little and keep their memory alive. Their sacrifice, however unwilling it was, allowed the Symenestra to continue to exist. Shouldn’t they honor them a little for that? Was Seran aware what would happen with her body after she had died, that they would throw her remains away like garbage? Or did the women that took care of her at the Nest keep that from her?

„He?“ Veldrys arched an eyebrow. „How do you know that the baby is going to be a boy? I’ve examined you, and I couldn’t find anything that hinted at one sex or the other ...“ It was a mystery to him that women seemed to know such things. Had she bonded with the baby? Did she sometimes talk to it when she was alone, as mothers tended to do? What did she think of the man whose child she was carrying? Had he raped her or had she come to his bed willingly? Did she know that the baby would be taken from her as soon as it was born, that she wouldn't be allowed to hold it, that nobody in Kalinor would consider her the mother?

„It’s good that you can still eat“, he remarked. „If you ever get sick again, let me know, and I’ll give you something.“

He didn’t answer her next question right away, but averted his gaze. Of course she would want to know that. Was she scared? Did she cry sometimes? How did she feel when she thought of it? „A few days, maybe“, he murmurred. „Maybe a little more, maybe a little less. It’s hard to tell exactly how long, but not too long.“ He looked into her eyes and carefully suggested, „If it ever gets too much, I can ask Swyph to visit you. He can make it so that you aren’t afraid of the birth and feel no pain.“

Swyph was a hypnotist that worked at the Nest, a somewhat strange man. He would sometimes hypnotize the surrogates when there were problems.

[Syllke Skyglow]

Seran nodded. “Yes, I don’t know if it truly calms him.” Her eyes dropped to her stomach. “But sometimes, it seems to. Maybe he can hear my voice, even in there.” It was true. She was glad to feel the somersaults and kicks, but when she sang softly, or hummed, it seemed to quiet this little being inside her. She liked to think that he was listening – that maybe, somehow, he knew, that she loved him. Her eyes lifted again at the healer’s casual question, a bittersweet feeling washing over her at the thought of her home. “I suppose that’s true. Most of the people there are much darker of hair and eyes. But we lived really on the outskirts – in the farmlands. I grew up on a farm, with my grandparents.” In her sad voice was the echo of better times past – the wash of the air after a spring rain, the feel of hot sun on her bare arms as she worked in the fields, the warmth of the fire at the end of a crisp fall day. “Perhaps – perhaps my ancestors came from some other place.” She bit thoughtfully on her lower lip, though in reality, her ancestry was of no importance to anyone, not now – not here. Wishing as much to prolong their polite, pointless conversation as to really know the answer, she asked softly, “What took you to Lhavit? Were you interested in learning magic?” It occurred to her that perhaps Veldrys was a master of hypnotism, though such had not been used on her – yet. There had been no need. As the end drew near, though, she wondered . . . whether she would be able to endure – the pain. “I – I was to be married. To a farmer.” She had spoken to distract herself, but she had indeed chosen a poor topic. For it brought a flood of memories, all happy ones, except the very last. The courtship. His dark, laughing eyes. His endearing smile. The first kiss they had shared. The day he had asked her to marry him. The night he had so charmingly seduced her – saying there was no need to wait – not now that the wedding day was so close. Who was there to know, he had insisted, kissing her again and again as they lay so secretly up in the hayloft. If she were to get with child, people would only assume that it had happened on the wedding night. And she had succumbed, laughing. Smiling. It had felt so odd, and so wonderful, uncomfortable and yet totally welcome. The very night . . . the very night that Denalys had abducted her. Her husband to be had argued and argued with her, in his loving way, to let him accompany her back to her grandparents’ farm. And she had been so laughingly stubborn. Why had she been so stubborn? Why hadn’t she listened? Who would have thought – it was such a short distance. Denalys had come upon her right on the edge of the northern pasture. Seran shuddered slightly, though the room was warm enough. She shook her head, putting those memories aside. They were just too painful. With her head turned aside, she mumbled some reply to his question about how she knew it was to be a boy. She didn’t, of course. She only thought . . . maybe . . . if her hope was fulfilled, and it was a boy, they might . . . let it live. Take it to the surface, perhaps? Give it to a human family. She knew – she knew how foolish it was to think this way. She knew the chances that this child was not Denalys’ were almost zero. But still . . . A short silence fell between them, and for a moment she was lost in her private reverie. But then she realized – if she didn’t talk, he would leave. And she wanted him to stay, for a bit longer. Sometimes . . . sometimes – she thought she should tell the young healer – to confide in Veldrys. To – to ask him, to beg him, to . . . to do something. To help the child, if he couldn’t help her. If it was the farmer’s child, and not Denalys’ . . . she didn’t care if they killed her for her transgression – for her deceit. But, the child . . . Her eyes went to the healer’s face and he was watching her, his expression unreadable. And then he put his suggestion – his offer – to her. It would be so much easier, to be hypnotized. To feel nothing – no fear, no pain. But – if the baby was not Sym. If it was human and she was not poisoned, not corroded from the inside out – if she was under Swyph’s spell – she would not be able to plead her case – their case. There would be no chance to beg, to plead, to entreat her caretakers – her jailers – to let the child live. To send it to the surface. To find a family to take it in. Once they realized what had happened – then what? Then what? No, she needed to be awake, alert, sensate – just in case. Just in case . . . “No.” She murmured. “No. I – I don’t think . . . that will be . . .necessary.” Her eyes once more stung and she felt the moisture on her lower lashes. “Let’s – let’s speak of something else. Would that be alright?” She did her best to smile, but it was quite wobbly. “I – I didn’t give you a chance to answer. What took you to Lhavit? Did you enjoy it there? Will – will you ever go back?”

[Veldrys]

„Maybe he can“, Veldrys agreed. If the baby could kick its mother, if it moved while it was still inside of her, why shouldn’t it be able to hear as well? Did it – or he – understand what Seran was saying, what she was singing? Could he feel what she was feeling? Would he ever be able to form such a bond with the Symenestra that would take him away as soon as he had been born? Had his colleagues ever thought about this? Using surrogates was the only way for his race to continue to exist, but there was something special about the connection between the baby and the woman that had given birth to it. Didn’t they share the same blood? Was it right to break that connection? Did Viratas really approve of it?

„I’ve never been on a farm“, he remarked as she told him where she had grown up. „As you know there are no farms in Kalinor. The closest to a farm is the place where they breed the silkworms, and even there it’s dark. What was it like where you come from?“ He couldn’t help but notice how sad she sounded as she spoke of her home. She seemed to have been happy there. For a moment he was tempted to tell her that she might see her family again one day, that it didn’t necessary have to end that way, but that would be a lie, and he’d already told too many lies.

„I went to Lhavit because ...“ he began, but then he abruptly stopped. He didn’t know how to talk about it, he didn’t know if he even should talk about it. Symenestra didn’t run away, they never abandoned their people, for whatever reason, but he had been so happy there. The Harvest had been far away. There had been no conflict of conscience, no pain. He hadn’t been confronted with women like Seran every day. He had learned so many things in Lhavit, that not all those of mixed blood were tainted and inferior, that sometimes gender didn’t matter.

He had gone to Lhavit because he needed to see how the people they killed lived with his own eyes, because he was convinced that the means to end his people’s suffering could only be found up there, under the stars, because it had simply become too much, but he wasn’t sure if he should burden her with his own problems. She would die soon. She was already almost dead, even though she didn’t seem to be fully aware of it. Wouldn’t it be better to keep it all a secret and try to comfort her instead, even though they insisted that comforting a walking incubator was a waste of time?

He was just about to answer her, with mostly empty words, when she mentioned that she had been destined to be married. His eyes widened a little. He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded. „Did you love him?“ he wanted to know. Did she miss the man who would have become her husband if things had been different? Did she still think of him sometimes? And what about Denalys? How did she feel when she thought of the fact that the child she carried was his?

„Let me know if you change your mind though“, he said to her as she declined his offer to send for the hypnotist. „I don’t want you to suffer more than is absolutely necessary. Swyph is a strange man, but he means well I think.“ She seemed to be on the verge of tears. He averted his gaze for a moment so that she could cry if she had to, so that she could wipe the tears away if she couldn’t hold them back.

„Let us speak of something else“, he agreed. „You asked me if I was interested in learning magic, but I didn’t come to Lhavit to learn magic. There are enough mages in Kalinor. You just have to know where to find them. No, I came to Lhavit because ...“ He hesitated again, and then he decided to tell her at least a little bit. She deserved some honesty if she was going to give her life for his people. Besides, it wasn’t as if she would run to Denalys and tell him everything. He needed somebody to confide in as much as she did. He couldn’t talk to any of the other Symenestra about it.

In a way his situation was just as desperate as hers, although he would at least be able to keep his life. He couldn’t bear some of the things his people did, but he couldn’t abandon them completely either. Their deeds horrified him, but at the same time he understood them. He didn’t want them to die. He wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. He wanted to find a solution to Kalinor’s problems, but it was probably all just wishful thinking. They were all doomed ...

„... because I was tired of it all, tired of Kalinor and tired of the things my people did. I wanted to see how your people lived. I wanted to see if another life was possible. I met somebody there, and for a while I was convinced of it, but I couldn’t abandon my family either. Do you know what I mean?“

„I would like to go back there one day, but I’m not sure if I should. It would probably hurt too much. I wouldn’t be able to look at the city without wondering what my life could have been like if I had stayed. But enough of that. This here is about you and not about me and the things I have or haven’t done.“

He fell silent for a moment, and then he looked at her. „I will have to examine you“, he told her, even though she likely wouldn’t appreciate being reminded of that. „It is expected of me. I will do it as quickly as possible though.“

[Syllke Skyglow]

Trying to push her tears and her fears away, Seran passed the back of her hand across her cheek surreptitiously, and smiled softly as she recalled her home. “I lived at the foot of the mountains, where the land slopes more gently. We raised sheep, for their wool, and the meat too of course.” The slaughtering of the animals she had tended was always a hard time for the soft hearted girl, but a necessary part of being a farmer. “In the summer, I would take our herd up the slopes to pasture and that was my favorite time of year – that and the lambing in the spring. I would . . . Ow.” She gasped a bit and her hand went to her belly, but she smiled much more genuinely. “Such a kick that was! He must have very strong legs.” Seran fell silent for a moment as she rubbed thoughtfully where her child was poking at her. Veldrys had asked about her betrothed, one simple question. Her reply when it came was equally as concise. “Yes, I loved him, very, very much. I – I sometimes wonder, what . . . what he thinks . . . happened.” And what he was doing now and whether he was happy even though she was gone and how her mother had reacted when she had learned that Srean had gone missing and if she was alright and especially if her grandparents had survived what Seran knew would have been enough to break their hearts, for they had raised her from an infant and doted on her every day of her life. How spoiled she had been, with their love, she had quickly come to realize, here in the darkness that was to be her tomb. Did they know she had been abducted by a Symenestra? If they did, had they gone to the city to make a complaint – one of thousands already made, by bereft and angry families all over Lhavit? Would one more girl’s disappearance prompt any action by anyone? What could they do – descend upon Kalinor and wipe it from the face of the earth? Her eyes turned to the healer’s and for one moment she hated him, with every bone in her body. She hated him, his race and their horror filled disregard for what they were doing – to her, to all the surrogates. How could they? What right did they have? What wrong had she ever committed beyond being a foolish girl and walking alone between two farms? Why did the gods allow the Symenestra to exist at all? But looking at Veldrys, who had been kind to her – who might very well have saved her life with his healing earlier in her pregnancy, the anger in her naturally tender heart melted and all she was left with was confusion. How could such a seemingly gentle and kind person do the work that he did? Did he ever lose any sleep over seeing the women he tended die – in a fantastically terrible way? The lines of her weary face softened. She wanted to ask him, but . . . she didn’t dare. If he was offended and he left – and she never saw him again – no, she didn’t think she could bear to lose the one friendly face that she had here, in this hell. He was speaking again, changing the subject as she had requested, away from thinking about the day soon to come. And as she listened politely, her own thoughts in a turmoil, she caught the one phrase – tired of the things my people did. What had he meant? Was he referring to just some wanderlust and the desire many young people feel to go explore the world, having grown to think the one they inhabited had become too small? Or could it be . . . Seran’s mind was racing, as Veldrys made his gentle comment about having to examine her. She nodded like an automaton, and readily shifted about, as best she could given her awkward body, lying back on the bed, stretching out prone. Having been treated like a breeding sow from the time of her arrival in Kalinor, one more examination meant nothing to her. Veldrys could poke and prod all he liked, it was his right, and as he had said, his duty. But her mind was expanding at an alarming rate, trying to think. What had he meant? Was it possible that there were Symenestra who did not agree whole heartedly with this brutal tradition? He had come back. He could not abandon his race, he had said. But did that still leave room for the possibility that . . . he might help her? There might be no other chance to ask him – to tell him her secret. Typically it was Veldrys who tended to her care, but there was no guarantee that, once he walked out that door in a short while, she would ever see him again. And she knew what the others were like . . . In an agony of indecision, Seran closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer to any god or goddess that might listen. To Viratas himself, if he truly cared about bloodlines. Let him dictate that one humble farmer’s son might live, if she was right. If the child she carried was her lover’s and not Denalys’ poisonous, murderous offspring. With a deeply indrawn breath, she tried to steady her heart, and her voice. Opening her eyes, she looked at Veldrys as calmly as she could. She even reached out her chilly hand to touch his arm, and was almost surprised to feel the warmth, almost as if she had been expecting him to be as cold as she felt. “Veldrys, I have something to tell you. A – a favor to ask of you.” Her voice was low but intense. She could not hesitate, not now. This might be her only chance. “This child . . .” Her other hand moved to her stomach. “This child may not be Denalys’. I – the night I was taken, just a few hours before, I – we . . . “ She took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. “My betrothed and I, we made love. Then, when Denalys captured me, he – he drugged me but still, I remember, he – he forced himself upon me, I couldn’t fight back but I remember. The two, they were so close in time, and by the time he brought me here, I was with child. But, you see, don’t you?” She paused, her eyes bright with tears but her voice tinged with hope. “When the baby is born, I may survive. It’s possible this child is human.” Her light touch on his arm changed to a grip of her white fingers, calloused from years of hard work. “I don’t care what happens to me, Veldrys. Kill me if you like, for being deceitful, for denying your people another son or daughter. Give me back to Denalys, or anyone, to breed a true Symenestra upon. But . . . this child.” Her façade of strength in the face of such overriding terror on behalf of the possibly human baby crumbled and tears rolled down her pale cheeks. “If I survive this birth, what will they do to my son? Can – can you help me? Please?”

[Veldrys]

„It sounds like a pleasant life“, he remarked as she told him what it had been like on her farm. „Simple.“ He envied her because of it. Her life was a nightmare now, but at least she had had a few years of peace. She had been allowed to believe that she would get married one day, have a few children and watch them grow up, while he had been aware that he would have to sacrifice somebody else if he wanted a family all along.

„I’ve never seen a lamb“, he added, even though – or maybe because – it was such a trivial thing. Sheep couldn’t live in a cave, and there were none in the forest above Kalinor either. He wasn’t even completely sure what they looked like. Symenestra didn’t own animals, apart from silkworms, and those were kept in a special part of the city. Wool and everything made of wool was a rare commodity in Kalinor as well. „If you raise sheep for their wool, does that mean they are soft?“ He couldn’t really imagine an animal like that. He only knew silkworms and the wild animals in the forest above.

As the baby kicked her, he smiled as well, even though it was another sign that her end was near. „He seems to be strong and healthy“, he remarked. Denalys would be happy about this child. Veldrys knew how much he wanted a son that would continue his legacy, and he was aware that he should be happy for the other Symenestra, but a part of him couldn’t help but share Seran’s pain, even though he would never try to save her life. He was still too much of a Symenestra for that.

As Seran wondered what her betrothed thought had happened, he didn’t say anything. He doubted that she expected an answer from him anyway. In a way he was just as guilty as Denalys, even though he had not abducted her. He had made sure that she maintained the pregnancy, that she lived long enough to give birth.

If he were in the man’s place, he would be desperate and angry. He would kill every Symenestra that he came across, not caring that those pale cave dwellers abducted women because it was the only way for them to survive. He would hate them with every fibre of his being and not rest until the last one of them was dead.

He helped her as she lay down for the examination and put a pillow under her head so that she would be more comfortable. True to his word he was gentle and worked quickly. It was slightly unpleasant – examinations like this one usually were – but not more than that, and after a few moments he turned away from her again and cleaned his hands and the instruments he had used to examine her.

And then he felt a touch on his arm, and he turned around abruptly. There was something in her eyes, something strange about the way she said his name, something unusually intense. „A favor?“ he wondered. What kind of favor did she mean? What could he, a Symenestra, the enemy do for her, apart from making her death as painless as possible?

At first he was convinced that he had misunderstood her. But she seemed to be so sure of it, so sure that it was possible. A surrogate that gave birth to a human child. It had never happened before. He wasn’t sure what his colleagues would do. If the child were female – and not a son as Seran believed – they would likely raise it and use it as a surrogate when it was old enough. But if it was a boy ... a boy would be useless. He might become a servant, but he would most likely be killed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

He turned around so that Seran couldn’t see the expression on his face as he thought about how he should answer.

„I’m not sure what they will do to your son if he is human“, he finally murmurred, still looking away from her. It was a lie of course. A human baby would likely not be allowed to live, but he wanted to spare Seran that knowledge. „And I’m not sure if I can help you ...“ He turned to face her again. His decision had been made. „But I’ll try. Even if your son is human, he deserves to live. In the eyes of Viratas all blood is precious, and all beings that bleed are worth the same. I don’t know how, but I’ll try to make sure that your son lives.“

[Syllke Skyglow]

As Veldrys turned away from her, Seran’s heart sank to her toes. She too turned away, turning her face into the pillow he had so solicitously provided for her, and the dam burst. Silent tears of the deepest grief flowed freely, wetting her cheeks and soaking into the pillow cover. Her body shuddered as she ground her teeth together, to keep from wailing to the sky above which she would never see again. Her hand had fallen away from the healer’s arm and she clutched futilely at the cloth of the simple smock she wore. Twisting and wringing it, she could only think of the life within, and now she prayed fervently, though to no particular deity, that the child was Denalys’ true offspring. Let it be Sym, she prayed furiously. Let me die and let it live. Do not be human. Don’t you dare be my lover’s child, she sternly warned the one who even then kicked vigorously. With the blind hope of despair, she took that for a sign that the baby had heard and one hand moved to caress it, through the muscles that separated them. That’s right, she crooned silently in her head. That’s right, my love. I was wrong. Wrong! Don’t be like me. Be one of them. It’s your only chance. I love you, whoever you are. Just please, please, please don’t die . . . please . . . “I’m not sure what they will do to your son if he is human.“ The soft voice was barely more than a murmur, barely acknowledged by Seran’s sorrow filled mind. She paid no heed to it. But the soft sound continued, wending its way through her trauma. ”And I’m not sure if I can help you ...“ If Veldrys had turned back to her, she did not know it for her eyes squeezed more tightly shut at his words. She knew what was coming, and the specter of punishment to herself for even asking such a thing, for confessing her secret, caused her to wrap her arms protectively about her belly. Surely they would wait. Surely they would not risk harming the baby that might yet be one of them. Surely . . . But I’ll try. Even if your son is human, he deserves to live. In the eyes of Viratas all blood is precious, and all beings that bleed are worth the same. I don’t know how, but I’ll try to make sure that your son lives.“ Seran gulped. Had he . . . ? Had she heard him say . . . ? Her eyes blinked open and she saw him looking at her. She saw the doubt, the troubled shifting of emotions in his violet eyes. The tears still streamed down her face, but she ignored them. She had to know. She had to confirm what she thought he had just said. Her hand went back to rest lightly on his arm. “You – you would – help me?” Her voice was hopeful, incredulous, beseeching. Her eyes searched his, daring to allow herself to believe. “You would help him?” She gently took the healer’s hand and placed it on her abdomen. “May the gods shower every blessing upon you and may you be the most fortunate of beings in Mizahar if you would do this, for us. Whatever – whatever you can do, please – don’t worry about me. My fate was sealed all those many, many nights ago. Just, please – do what you can to save this one, if . . . if he is not one of you.” “And . . . and. If you can do it without risk . . . to yourself, Veldrys. I – I would not ask that of you.” She appended, sadly but with great sincerity. Seran bit her lower lip and her eyes dropped. “I, I don’t guess, though, there’s really any chance of that.” Her mind was in a whorl and she couldn’t really fathom how anyone might pull off what she had hoped without hope might happen – and which now Veldrys had said he would try to accomplish. But she was stubborn and not about to give in to doubt so easily. Still, that was indeed the second hurdle. How could Veldrys possibly save her child, if she herself survived the birth?

[Veldrys]

„I will help you“, Veldrys confirmed. His voice was very soft now, as if he were suddenly afraid that they’d be overheard. Without a doubt his colleagues would disapprove of this, of saving a useless, human baby. It would have consequences, for him, for Seran if any of this ever became public knowledge, but still, he couldn’t refuse. Seran’s child was innocent. It didn’t deserve to die. It deserved a long, happy life, the life that it’s mother should have had. He knew why his people captured surrogates, but he could never condone the murder of a child. Killing a child was the worst crime of all. „And him. Him more than anybody else.“

He allowed her to place his hand on her abdomen. He felt the child inside of her, so alive, so strong, and then he abruptly pulled his hand away, as if he had been burned. He didn’t like the thoughts that forced themselves on his mind, the implications of this here. It gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Denalys would be angry if he realized that he had wasted his seed, his limited fertility on a woman that had already been pregnant. He knew that he should be angry because there would be one less Symenestra in the world now – if the child really was human, but he couldn’t help but think of Seran’s son. No matter which race he turned out to be, he deserved to live.

He had never been more aware of the dilemma of his race before.

„Don’t talk about the gods“, he said. His voice was harsh, filled with bitterness. „This doesn’t have anything to do with the gods or fortune. This has more to do with bad luck, with pain, doom and despair, and I’m only doing what every one of us should be doing. If he isn’t one of us, I will do what I can to take him away from here. I will take him to your parents, to his father or a human family that will love him like their own child. I promise that I will take care of him.“

„I doubt there will be any risk to myself. If the child turns out to be human, I will claim that he was too sick to live. Maybe I will claim that I killed him with my own hands and burned his remains. They won’t care about the fate of a human child ...“

He looked into Seran’s eyes. She had told him not to worry about her. A newborn baby could easily be hidden, but he couldn’t get a grown woman out of Kalinor without anybody noticing. He couldn’t rob his people of a surrogate, a Web of their child, couldn’t risk his own future, but still, in this moment he felt sorry for her.

„If he turns out to be human, and if I manage to save him, I will make sure that he knows how brave you were.“