She pushed away the thought that what was normal and natural for another woman might not be so for her. The Elderling changes that had beset her body had had consequences that she had never foreseen. Weeping was uncomfortable now; it enflamed her eyes. She had heard tales of other women who had been heavily touched by the Rain Wilds, women who had died trying to push out a child. But surely that would not happen to her. Her changes had been caused by the dragon Tintaglia, not by chance exposure to the Rain Wilds. Surely her body would be equal to this task.

She lifted her eyes and looked around hopelessly. Night had come, and most of the Rain Wilders had extinguished their lights and gone to bed. Some lights still shone, but in the blowing wind and darkness, she could not discern a path to any of them. Her hands were cold. She hitched up the loose white tunic she wore under her cloak. Her fingers fumbled at the fastening of her trousers as she tried to loosen them. “No dignity,” she complained to the wind. The loose trousers fell around her ankles and she managed to step free of them. She bundled them close to her and then stuffed them inside her tunic to keep them dry. If her baby was born right here, they would be what she would wrap him in.

Another contraction passed through her, and this time she was sure she felt the baby move down with the press of her muscles. When at last her own body stopped squeezing her, she drew a deep breath and made one final effort. “Help me! Please! Someone help me!”

Then she gave a startled shriek as a figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped toward her. In the dim light from a distant lantern, she saw it was a man in a long cloak. She had not heard anyone approach. How long had he been there, watching her? She decided she didn’t care. “Please, please help me get to shelter. I’m about to . . . I’m having a baby.”

The man crouched down beside her. She could see nothing of his face inside his deep hood. “You are the Elderling woman, the dragon woman, yes?”

He had an accent. Chalcedean? Possibly. Then he was probably one of the freed slaves who had come to the Rain Wilds during the war. Most of them had been from Jamaillia, but a few had been Chalcedeans. “Yes. Yes, I’m Malta, the Elderling. If you help me, you will be richly rewarded by my family.”

“Come, then. Come.” With no regard for her travails, the man seized her upper arm and tried to haul her to her feet. She groaned and nearly fell and then managed to stand upright.

“Wait. I can’t . . .”

“You come, then, come with me. There’s a safe place, not far from here. Come.”