The woman was moaning and writhing with the birth pangs. Her face had gone deathly pale, her eyes wide and staring. Women dressed as holy sisters came swiftly to her aid and, lifting her gently, they bore her away. The other mothers-to-be looked after her, their faces strained, and they placed their hands on their own monstrously swollen wombs. One looked at Sorrow and at Ven. Tears began to stream down her cheeks. Her crying was soundless and it was all the more terrible for being silent.

Ven turned and walked away, his clawed feet scraping against the stone. The sound was loud in his ears. Even Sorrow, who joined him, seemed subdued.

“Even human babies are born in pain,” she said as much to herself as to him. “And sometimes they kill the mother who bears them.”

“I need to get back,” Ven said. He did not add that he wasn’t supposed to be here; Sorrow so clearly thought that her revered father had sent him.

“I would urge you to stay with us,” she said. “But you need to talk with our father. Tomorrow, you will return to us and be one of us, always.”

“I would like that,” Ven said, and part of him meant it. Another part of him said it only because he didn’t want to hurt his sister.

18

ON THE MORNING OF THE DAY VEN ENTERED THE MOUNTAIN, Evelina was taking a stroll over to the beach area where the boats were moored. Most of the fishermen were already at their work; she could see the shadowy forms of their boats slipping in and out of the mists rising from the river. One man remained on shore, however, doing something with a net, mending it, perhaps. He wasn’t looking at the work in his hands. He had his eyes fixed on her. He’d had his eyes on her ever since she’d walked into view.

Evelina remembered him immediately. He had carried her from the boat, lifting her up in his strong arms and ferrying her to shore, so that her feet didn’t get wet. He desired her. That was obvious. He took no trouble to hide his lust. Rather, he flaunted it. Evelina guessed that he had stayed away from his fishing on the off chance that he might run into her.

Evelina was glad to make use of any man who offered himself, especially a man so strong and good-looking, with his dark hair and eyes and sun-browned skin. Feigning not to notice him, she walked closer, looking at the sky, the river, and the crudely built, but snug, little dwellings.

“Good morning, Mistress,” he said.

Evelina gave an affected start. “Oh, you startled me, sir. I didn’t see you. Good morning,” she returned, adopting a tone that was frost-rimed with just a hint that she might possibly thaw if the sun were warm enough.