The Stars Are Legion(76)

She gets up and hands the child over to her mother. Nashatra stands a moment longer over us. It’s then that I see the swell of Nashatra’s belly, and all the long conversations with Rasida begin to make some semblance of sense.

“You want to save the world?” Rasida said to Nashatra, and she took her mother away, and now here was her mother, long past the age at which her own womb would give issue, standing visibly pregnant beside me.

I stare hard at the ceiling as Nashatra takes the child with her and leaves the room, the witches following close beside her. Birthing a world is dangerous, but all birth is dangerous. This is Nashatra’s punishment, to stay here and birth the world while the rest of Bhavaja is moved to Katazyrna to await the remaking of Bhavaja. Rasida’s plan is almost as grand as mine. I admire it, even if it makes what I need to do that much more difficult.

The girls arrive with water and towels and clean me up. Sabita helps them. I have nothing for the pain, which is deep and intense, but I am so exhausted that I’m able to sleep, if only in snatches.

When I wake, it’s to find Sabita trying to express the milk from my breasts. She signs at me that Rasida has requested it. I’m uncertain why, as she said she had a nurse, but no milk is forthcoming. It’s not time yet.

I wonder if the milk is for Rasida, not the child, and with that thought, I sleep again.

Some time passes, and when I come to next, Sabita is lying on the floor next to me. I tap her on the arm. Her eyes open. I sign at her, “We need to move now. I know where to find what we need.”

Sabita’s eyes widen. I have not confided in her over all this time, but now that the child is here, my time is running short. The child will be able to breed more children, unlike many of the other child-bearers that Anat could have offered Rasida. Zan had that peculiar specialty with her womb. A specialty she had no use for. Rasida may keep me for a few more births, or not. She has me beaten.

Sabita signs, “I know you despise me, but I am not your enemy.”

“We are both captive,” I sign.

“I know a way out,” she signs.

“I can’t leave without Rasida’s womb.”

“What does she carry?”

I hesitate, then sign, “What she carries can save worlds. I think she’s given it to her mother, Nashatra. We must get Nashatra off Bhavaja.”

“You intend to save Katazyrna with it?” Sabita signs.

I’m still worried about telling her too much. So I lie and sign, “Yes.”

Sabita is silent for a time. She folds her hands across her chest and gazes at the ceiling.

“Will you help me?” I sign. “She won’t keep you any longer than she will keep me. This may be over now that the child’s here. You understand?”

Sabita makes a quick sign. “Yes.”

I let out my breath and sign, “I will need you to cover for me in my absence. Soon.”

“What will you do?” Sabita signs.

“It’s best you don’t know,” I sign. “You can tell them I forced you to it, if we’re caught.”

She does not answer. If she is going to betray me, she will betray me in the morning.

When I wake, it is with the knowledge that this could be my last day breathing, one way or another.

But when I see Sabita wake on the floor next to me, she signs, “Let me tell you about the tunnel I’ve been making,” and hope blooms within me anew.

*

It’s another ten cycles before I feel well enough to leave our quarters. Even then, it takes three attempts. The girls are always awake, always eager to please Rasida, and there are women outside the large foyer who guard our way.

But Sabita is a tissue technician, and she has been burrowing out an old doorway in one of my rooms, slowly carving away the slab of meaty flesh so that it opens now like the peel of a fruit. Sabita takes her place in my bed, pulling the covers up over her head, and I sneak out twice before eventually finding my way back to Rasida’s quarters. Sneaking is painful; I cannot move very quickly. My walk is more a shuffle, but my advantage is that Rasida will not think me capable of walking even this far.

She has visited me several times during my recovery, always bringing small gifts, bits of other worlds, sheets of paper, colorful strands for the loom. I gave her a fine colorful cape I had woven for her, and she wears it now like a fine suit.

I, too, can smile like a villain.

The door to Rasida’s rooms opens at my touch. Like her wardrobe, she does not bother with locks. Or perhaps there are none here. Perhaps the world doesn’t know how to create them anymore. One more broken piece.

I go to her wardrobe and open it. Inside are a line of suits and some piles of embroidered bags and two obsidian machetes. Has she moved it already? I wonder where else she would have put it, and turn to look under the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Rasida is standing in the doorway.

She is wearing the iron arm.

My legs nearly give out from under me. I have to catch myself against the wardrobe. I want to scream. Seeing her wearing that arm reminds me of the last time I stole it, and what I had to sacrifice for it, but I clench my teeth and say nothing. Try to feel nothing.

Rasida smiles and holds up the arm. “Fits well, doesn’t it?”

“How did you get it on?” I ask. “Anat had to . . . It didn’t fit her very well.”