“Most women already are, Doctor,” Mal intoned lazily. “You’re just too prejudiced to notice.”
“Well, we’ll have far fewer challenges once all the midwives in the world understand,” Brisack ignored the accusation, “and can make the women they treat realize that they’re under the duress of their conditions. The Drink certainly is the only—and best—course of action. That’s why I spend so much time perfecting it years ago.”
“No need to convince me of anything, Doctor.” Mal spat out his hangnail. “It sounds like you’re the one wrestling with a prick of conscience.”
“I’m not!” Brisack declared. “I truly feel this is the best. And now every woman in the world can understand why, too.”
“Except for that midwife,” Mal sniggered.
Brisack went pale. “What do you mean, that midwife?”
“She’s missing,” Mal said dismissively, picking up some pages to signal he was ready to move on to another subject.
“No!” Brisack gasped. “Gadiman?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters! You promised me nothing would happen to her!”
Mal shrugged easily. “I really don’t know what happened. I just received a note from Gadiman saying that when he went for another interrogation, she was gone.”
“You don’t know what your weasel did with her?!” Brisack bellowed.
“She may have left on her own,” Mal said, unruffled. “Hiding somewhere. That would be the most sensible, wouldn’t you think?”
“She did nothing wrong!” Brisack protested. “She was only was wondering. Since when do we punish for that?”
“She wasn’t punished, Doctor. At least, I don’t think she was,” Mal said, unconcerned. “What does it matter, anyway? Just another woman. The world is crawling with them. They’re inconsequential beyond their ability to entertain men and birth another generation. And maybe bake a pie.”
“And people wonder that you never married,” marveled Brisack.
---
The forest grumbled and belched and trembled. The trees masked bottomless chasms that stank of sulfur, fountains of scalding hot water that shot into the air, and seemingly innocent patches of bubbling mud that burned. The forest was known to devour animals, people, and—the stories said—hope.
The midwife should have been terrified to be there, but she wasn’t. In fact, for the first time in far too long, she felt safe as she picked her way through the dense foliage.
She’d been too vocal in Idumea—she knew that, and would have to explain herself. But if she could do the math, anyone could.
Their population was dying, albeit slowly.
That could be fixed by allowing the request of a very few parents. But her ideas proposal had garnered the attention of Administrator Gadiman himself, the biggest mistake she could have committed.
Keep a low profile and your name quiet. Make no lasting connections. Avoid drawing attention to yourself—
But she had to try. And now, fear of that weasely man had sent her running.
Home.
Chapter 2 ~ “My wife, you are insane.”
“Captain, do you have a moment?” Karna asked through the partially opened office door. “Zenos made contact again.”
Perrin quickly snatched up his quill and grabbed a clean piece of paper. “Of course! Send him in!”
Zenos came in, dressed in regular work clothes and wearing an eager grin. “Saw him again, sir! Just before the eastern canals.”
“I pulled back the patrols when I realized Zenos was talking to someone in the trees,” Karna explained. “I should get back out there—”
“Certainly,” Shin gestured to him, “Go, go! See if we have any other confused Guarders out there.”
Karna grinned, winked at their volunteer, and bounded back down the stairs.
“Sit, Zenos,” Shin told him as he dipped his quill into the ink bottle. “Tell me everything he said, no matter how bizarre. He still thinks you’re some farmer’s son?”
“Yes, sir. I was strolling at the edges of the fields they just planted, hoping to catch sight of him again. Since I’m not in a uniform—”
“—is precisely why I recommended some changes last year,” Shin grumbled. “We could learn so much more if we weren’t so obvious! But the Command Board . . . well, never mind. So Zenos, what did he say?”
“He was a bit more coherent this time,” Zenos explained, “I think because I fed him, first.” He winced in apology. “I’d taken an extra beef sandwich from midday meal and had it in my pocket in case I got hungry, and . . . well, the Guarder seemed half-starved . . .”