today.â
From her place between Rahveyâs legs, Florihn scowled at me, then refocused on Rahvey and said simply, âNow.â
It took no more than five minutes, and I kept my gaze locked on my sisterâs face for as much of it as possible. When the baby emerged, I did as I was told, but I couldnât stop staring at the child.
It was a girl. The fourth daughter.
For a long moment, no one moved or spoke. The baby wailed over Rahveyâs exhausted panting, and I just looked at it, registering the awful truth, so that for a few seconds, it seemed that time had stopped.
At last the midwife seemed to come back to herself. Her face was ashen, but she brought her fluttering hands together and pressed her fingertips, a gesture of composure and resolution, both hard won.
Then she stood up and took a deep, quavering breath. âWhereâs my knife?â she asked.
âWait,â I said. âWhat are you doing?â
âCutting the cord,â said Florihn. âWhat did you think?â
Rahvey gaped, her eyes flicking to the midwife for guidance.
âThen what?â I asked.
There was a momentâs stillness, then the baby began to cry again. The midwife wrapped the child in a towel and set her on the floor before turning on me and speaking in a low whisper. âFourth daughter,â she said. âYou know what that means. Rahvey canât keep it. It goes to a blood relative or we take it to Pancaris,â said Florihn.
Pancaris was an orphanage run by one of the Feldish religious ordersâdour-habited, grim-faced white nuns who raised children to be domestic servants.
âTill she runs away and turns beggar or whore,â I said, looking at the brown, wriggling infant, so small and powerless.
âThereâs no other choice,â said Florihn dismissively. âAnd theyâll teach her what she needs.â
âLike what?â I asked.
Florihn gave me a hard look for my temerity, but she answered. âTheyâll teach her to scrub. To cook. To wield a pick or wheel a barrow. Anything else is just making promises you canât keep. You of all people should know that.â
I looked to Rahvey, but she kept her eyes fixed on Florihn, the way Tanish stares at me to avoid looking down from the chimneys.
âRahvey,â I said, dragging her gaze to my face. âMaybe thereâs another way. Maybe this fourth-daughter business canââ
âCan what?â demanded Florihn.
âI donât know,â I said, quailing under the womanâs authoritative stare.
My sister gaped some more, at me this time, then looked back to the midwife. She squeezed her eyes shut, and a tear coursed down her cheek. Her grief gave me the courage I needed.
âMaybe we could keep her,â I said, feeling the blood rise in my face.
Florihn blinked, but she maintained a rigid calm. Her eyes became two slits as she considered how to respond. ââWeâ?â she said, staring me down. âWhat will your contribution be to raising an unseemly child? Where will you be when your sister has to raise more money to feed another mouth?â When I said nothing, she added, âYes, thatâs what I thought.â
âSinchon could look for a different kind of job,â I said unsteadily, but Florihn, reading the panic in Rahveyâs face, cut me off.
âAnd youâll tell him that, will you?â she demanded. âYou have forgotten everything. This is our way. The Lani way.â
Then itâs a stupid way! I wanted to shout, an old rage spiking in my chest. You should change it.
But faced with Florihnâs baleful glare, I couldnât get the words out. Rahvey looked cowed, but her eyes wandered back to the mewling infant. I moved to the child, stooped, and gathered her inexpertly into my arms.
âPut it down, Anglet,â said the midwife. âYou are only making things harder. This is not helpful. It is