Free Bloodsongs by Robin W Bailey

again,” she told him with a sad shake of her head. “You’ve never had children, Amalki. You don’t understand what a parent will do for them.”
    His face lit with an embarrassed smile. “Maybe I will soon, though.”
    Samidar relaxed a little. “How is Teri?”
    Amalki held his hands before his belly, and his smile widened. “By the next new moon,” he said. “A descroiyo woman passed by with the last caravan. She told Teri’s fortune.” He beamed as he spoke. “It’s going to be a boy, Samidar.”
    She closed her mouth. No need to tell him what trouble sons could be. Besides, the descroiyo’s power could never be trusted. For a coin they told what the customer wanted most to hear. Of course Amalki wanted a son, and Teri wanted to give him that son. But if it was a daughter, the descroiyo would be long gone, and the parents would be just as happy. That was always the way.
    She wiped sweat from her face. With the barn doors shut the heat continued to build. Her tunic’s fabric turned stiff and scratchy as it began to dry, and she squirmed uncomfortably. “I’d still like to see that trunk,” she said.
    Amalki nodded, led her horse into a stall, and scattered a handful of fresh straw for it to eat. Then he crossed to the doors and opened them a crack. He stuck his head out. “Just checking,” he said somewhat sheepishly. “No chance anyone would be looking for you in this storm.” He waved for her to follow.
    The rain still beat thick and hard, and a wind had risen to whip it with stinging force. She ran after Amalki, mud splashing on her bare ankles, skirts flapping and tangling about her legs. Her wet hair blew over her eyes. She tried uselessly to brush it back and kept her sight on the dim outline of his small home.
    Amalki reached the door ahead of her and pounded. The old wood shook visibly under his fist. She caught up with him just as it opened.
    Teri moved back as they scurried inside. Her eyes widened when she saw Samidar, and her jaw dropped. Amalki took the wooden bar from his small wife’s hands and set it across the door again.
    â€œBlows open without it,” he said. “Haven’t got around to making a proper lock.”
    Teri caught his arm, her gaze full of questions.
    Amalki reassured her with a kiss. “Get a bag together,” he instructed. “Fill it with food that can stand a journey. Get a water-skin, too.” He paused, made a face at the puddle he had left on the floor, mopped the droplets of rain from his chest and arms. “Make it a wine-skin. There’s water enough.”
    Teri hesitated, one hand on her pregnant belly. She glanced at Samidar, then at her husband, and drew a deep breath. “Give her something dry to wear,” she told her husband as she headed for the tiny kitchen. “Does she have a horse? We’ll help her, but she can’t stay here.” At the kitchen entrance she stopped and turned back to face Samidar. “If it was just Amalki and me, I’d do anything I could for you. You’ve been a good neighbor.” She patted her tummy. “But there’s a child to think of now.”
    Samidar nodded. “You’ve risked too much already, and I’m grateful.” She looked to Amalki and reminded him again of the trunk. The longer she stayed in this house, the greater the danger to her friends.
    â€œIt’s back through here,” he said, picking up an oil lamp.
    She followed him into a side room. The lamp suffused the interior with an amber glow that flickered and danced as the wind forced between the uncaulked boards that served for walls and teased the slender flame.
    She had not known Amalki was such a collector. Or maybe “scavenger” would have been a better word. The room was full of old tools and utensils, chests, scraps of leather, linens and fabrics she didn’t recognize, colored rocks the size