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horse’s neck and turned to look up at Gaia. He isn’t old , she thought, surprised by her first clear look at him. She’d seen the outrider only by the light of the fire, and she was curious now to see how this man, to whom she owed her life, matched his voice and clean hands.
    He tilted his face slightly, regarding her closely, and she waited for a question about the scar that disfigured the left side of her face. It never came. Instead, he took off his hat to rake a hand through hair that was dark with sweat. Decisive, perceptive eyes dominated his even features with inviting candor.
    Beneath his beard, the corners of his mouth turned down briefly with a trace of regret.
    He donned his hat again. “I hope your baby makes it, Mlass,” he said. “For your own sake.”
    Startled, she instinctively held her sister closer, but before she could ask what he meant, a light tapping noise came from behind her. She turned. A wide, deep veranda spanned the width of the big lodge, and a white-haired woman with a red cane was coming through the screen door. She stood straight, and her pale blue dress draped over her pregnant form with regal simplicity. A bit of gold and glass hung from a necklace, gleaming against her dark skin.
    Six months , Gaia estimated. The Matrarc was six months pregnant.
    Half a dozen women were coming out of the lodge behind the Matrarc, openly curious, and more people were gathering in the commons.
    The Matrarc held out a slender hand in a gesture of expectation. “Chardo Peter? You brought in a girl and a baby?”
    Gaia noticed a subtle disconnection between the Matrarc’s gesture and the direction of her gaze, and put it together with the significance of the cane: she was blind.
    “Yes, Mlady,” he said. “The baby’s a girl and nearly dead from starvation.”
    “Bring them here to me,” said the Matrarc. “I suppose the girl is weak. Carry her if you must.”
    Chardo propped his hat on the pommel and reached up to help Gaia. She shifted her sling to make sure Maya was secure. As her feet touched the dirt, her knees buckled, and he caught her before her legs gave out entirely. “Forgive me, Mlass,” he said. He scooped her up in his arms and delivered her to the top of the steps. Gaia steadied herself against a log pillar and glanced furtively around. She didn’t know why she was uneasy, but something felt wrong.

    “Please,” Gaia said. “We need a doctor.”
    The tip of the Matrarc’s red cane nudged Gaia’s boot, but then she set the cane aside and extended her hands. “I want to see the baby.” There was a melodious, deep quality in her voice that took the edge off her direct command, and yet she clearly expected to be obeyed.
    Gaia gently extricated Maya from the sling and lifted her into those expectant hands. Unbelievably scrawny and fragile, the baby was hardly more than a listless bundle of blankets. The Matrarc cradled Maya in one arm and ran quick fingers over her face and arms, settling at the baby’s throat.
    Up close, Gaia saw the Matrarc’s complexion was a deep tan, with darker freckles splayed across her nose and cheeks. Her wrinkles were few. Despite prematurely white hair, which was arranged in a soft, heavy bun, the Matrarc was in her mid-thirties, Gaia guessed, and obviously competent with a baby. The clear, translucent brown of her sightless eyes was lit by an alert, trenchant expression, and then she frowned with concern.
    “You see?” Gaia said. It reassured her to see the Matrarc clearly realized the gravity of the situation.
    “It’s not good,” the Matrarc said. “When was she born?”
    “About two weeks ago. She was premature.”
    “Where’s Mlady Eva?” the Matrarc said.
    A woman was hurrying across the commons carrying a baby of her own. “I’m here!” she called. Her apron had streaks of red, and her dark hair was coming loose from its braid. “I was just putting up my preserves, but Havandish told me this couldn’t wait. Why do you need