Rahvak opened the door. “Lana, can you come in, please?”
Lana entered softly. “Is she…?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. Only a moment ago.”
“Did she say anything I need to know?”
“She didn’t have the strength to talk much.” Rahvak related the story of the flight from Lone Island and up the South Road. “After that, she just faded away. She mumbled something, but I couldn’t make out the words.”
“Did she tell you the baby’s name?”
“She said we should give her one. And asked us to care for the child.”
“Well, of course we’ll care for the child! What else would we do with it?”
“I told her we would. It seemed to ease her mind.” He hesitated. “I think we absolutely should not entrust her to the Beckmosses.”
Lana glowered. “Of course we won’t give her to the Beckmosses! What an idea!”
“What, then? I can’t very well care for an infant.” Rahvak frowned, then suggested, “The army won’t be back here for another six months, at the least. We’ll have plenty of time to figure out some believable story.”
“It’ll have to be a good one, that’s for sure,” Lana said. “She’s a Torph, so she’ll need to be with a Torph family—officially, at least. She might be a Broadlog—I’m sure Faral and Jora will go along. We’ll have to be extra careful when the Fessal soldiers come again. Meanwhile, I’ll raise her myself. And you’ll help me!”
“Who, me? Help? With an infant?”
“Yes, with an infant—it’s not like you’re going to break her,” Lana snapped. “But I was thinking ahead to when she’s older. You’re the best teacher in town.”
“I suppose I am,” Rahvak said, then laughed out loud. “Those Fessals aren’t that bright—maybe we can convince them that she’s always been here.”
“Or that she ‘just appeared’ one day. It’s a miracle!”
They laughed together.
The baby fussed a little and squirmed on the bed. Lana picked her up and comforted her. “She’ll be looking for her mother soon.” She motioned Rahvak into the main room and closed the bedroom door. “As it happens, I have a jug of fresh goat’s milk cooling in the springhouse. Here, hold the baby while I fetch it.”
Rahvak accepted the infant awkwardly. “Hello, little one.” She cooed and grabbed his finger. “What should we call you? That’s a pretty strong grip you have. Maybe we’ll name you Baby Ironhands.”
“We’ll do no such thing,” Lana said, as she came in with the milk jug. “‘Baby Ironhands,’ indeed!” She twisted the end of a clean kitchen towel and dipped it in the milk, then held it to the baby’s lips. The baby tasted it, then began sucking greedily on the towel.
“Well, look at that!” Rahvak said. “You’re not going to have any trouble feeding her, are you?”
“What about her name?” Lana demanded. “We’d better give her one right now. If I let you out of my sight, you’ll likely name her something ridiculous. Like ‘Baby Ironhands.’”
Rahvah smiled. “I don’t know much about the Torph language—only a few words. Here’s a thought: ‘Keh’ means pleasant, as I recall, and ‘La’ is a surprise. Kehla—Pleasant Surprise. How does that sound?” He watched the baby suckling for a bit. “Yes, that’ll do nicely: ‘Kehla.’”
Little Kehla looked up at Rahvak and smiled. “There!” he said. “You see? She already knows her name.”
The baby burped loudly, closed her eyes, and went to sleep in Rahvak’s arms.
* * *
Later that evening, Rahvak unlocked a camouflaged door and descended the steep stairs to his secret study. He lit a candle and made himself a little tin cup of tea over the flame. He took Vetta’s bundle from his jacket and placed it on the desk in front of him. What a strange day this had been! He warmed his hands around the teacup and contemplated the many events of the last few hours.
When the candle had burned low and the tea was gone, Rahvak roused himself from his meditations. “‘North Star,’ is it? ‘Worldhurt?’ ‘Feyar City?’ Hah!”
He crossed the room and opened a large, ancient trunk. He rummaged around, took out a pair of worn hiking boots, and brushed the dust off them. They were still supple after all these years, but he’d give them a good oiling, just to be sure.
Then he grinned a wide, feral, Fruen grin which, if the Fessals had seen it, would have terrified them. “No-Travel laws, is it? No-Knowledge laws? Just try and stop me!”
* * *
On the other side of the world, deep below the earth in a natural cavern, Madame Entigy monitored a brightly lit panel. After many decades, a red light blinked on the otherwise uninteresting display. Madame Entigy enlarged the map section containing the blinking beacon. Feyar City Number Eight. Number Eight was the highway marker 2.5 miles due south of Feyar City, along the main north/south highway. Interesting. What could have caused that, I wonder?
She activated a series of memory banks that had been sleeping for over a century—power was hard to come by this far underground. Conservation was key. When the memory bank was fully functional, she located the correct code sequences and formulated a message. Time to get things moving again in Fellstone City.