“But it did not work that way, not entirely,” Malta agreed. She heard guilt in Jani’s voice. It was a familiar conversation as the older woman went over what she had negotiated and wondered how it had gone wrong. Malta reached over and picked up a pair of stockings. Slowly she rolled them into a ball. “Jani, it is not your fault. At the time, it seemed a brilliant solution, for them and for us. You bargained in good faith, and no one can fault you if it did not turn out as you planned. We cannot force them to join us. But we all know that eventually they will. Already the Rain Wilds have touched some of them, though not as heavily as it did the early settlers. Some of the Tattooed who came here as adults have begun to scale as they age, and their youngsters more so. Their children are being born with copper glints in their eyes and that sheen to the skin that speaks of pebbling later in life. Their children will be Rain Wilders whether they like it or not.” Malta set her feet firmly on the floor and stood up. Her lower back protested, and without thinking, she set her hands to her belly, supporting her growing child.

Jani smiled. “As will your child, Malta Vestrit Khuprus.”

Malta’s smile was more tenuous. She turned away hastily to drop the balled-up stockings in her case, then turned back to her wardrobe to look for a winter cloak to add to what she had packed. Tears stung her eyes, and she did not want Reyn’s mother to see them.

Jani spoke quietly. “Sometimes, sharing a fear or sorrow can lessen it.”

“Oh,” Malta said, striving for a casual note in her voice and failing as her throat closed on the words. “It was just something the midwife said yesterday when I went to see her.”

“Koli is one of our best midwives. She has been helping with births for years.”