Malta sank to the floor, panting. Just as she caught her breath, another cramp seized her. She curled around her clenched belly, and a low moan escaped her. “It will be all right.” She was not sure if she begged that of Sa or pleaded with the child inside her.

Two more contractions seized her and passed before she heard the door open. Every time one passed, she promised herself she would stagger out the door and look for help as soon as she caught her breath. Each time, a new wave of pain seized her before she could. She could not guess how much time had passed. The pains made everything an endless now. “Help me,” she gasped and looked up to see that the useless fool had brought another man with him. She stared up at him. “A midwife,” she hissed. “I need a midwife.”

They ignored her. The man who had brought her crossed the small room, stepping around her, almost over her. He took up a cheap yellow candle in its holder, lit it from the hearth, and used it to light several more around the room. Then he stood back and gestured at her, well pleased. “You see, Begasti? I am right, am I not?”

“It’s her,” the other man said. He stooped to peer at her, his breath thick with harsh spices. He was more richly dressed than the man who had dragged her here, and his words more heavily accented with Chalcedean. “But . . . what is wrong with her? Why have you brought her here? There will be trouble, Arich! Many of these Rain Wilders revere her.”

“And as many despise her! They say she and her husband are too full of themselves, that family, power, and beauty have made her think herself truly a queen.” He laughed. “She does not look so queenly now!”

The words barely registered with Malta’s awareness. She was being torn open; she was sure of it. She managed a breath and commanded them, “Go find a woman to help me!”

The one named Begasti shook his head. “Such a fuss to make over birthing. Do you think we should gag her? I have heard some women scream when they birth. It is bad enough that you and I are both here, in the same room. It’s dangerous. We shouldn’t be seen together; we should not want to draw attention to ourselves.”

The other one shrugged. “This is a noisy place at night, even without the storm. There are shrieks, shouting, and, yes, even screams. No one will come to investigate.”

Malta was panting and trying to think. This was so wrong. They were not going to help her; they were not listening to her at all. Why had the man pretended to be helpful, why had he brought her here?