Priya was her own self, unencumbered, but the filaments traced Mai’s form as if a translucent second skin wrapped her, so that she blazed.

“Here it comes, plum blossom. Look down. Do you see it? This is the head of your child.”

Panting, seemingly oblivious of the threads of light, Mai bent her head to stare down between her legs. Her sweaty face changed expression. “I can’t look!” she cried. And then, “I have to push again!”

“Take in a breath. Hold it.” Priya spilled words Joss did not understand, as Mai pressed her mouth shut and bore down.

Miyara grabbed his elbow. “Quickly! We must weave a blessing. She has no clan to surround her. The child will be cursed if no blessing greets it!”

The hells!

She stamped to begin, and though he had no particular skill, he was like anyone who had heard the chants and songs all his life. He could stumble along in her company.

May the Earth Mother greet you, little flower.

May the Air Mother greet you, little breeze.

May the Fire Mother greet you, little flame.

May the Water Mother greet you, little wave.

From this angle, he could not see beyond Mai’s gleaming body, but as Priya extended her hands to catch the baby as it was born, the threads poured off Mai to fill the hollow until it seemed to burn, drowning the newborn child.

Mai sagged back, reclining against the cloth-draped rock with a gasped sigh.

“Marshal!” cried Priya. “What are these things? Are they living creatures? Or something else? What do we do?”

The baby wailed, and the tendrils spun as though on the strength of that tiny voice and whirled into the air and blinked out. The child ceased crying.

Miyara faltered, voice breaking, but within the darkness she stamped and kept singing.

Be woven into the land with this song.

Be strong. We cherish you.

Joss stumbled out along the path and groped along the ruined wall until he found the lamp. It took him three tries to light the wick with his flint, and by the time he got back into the cave the infant had been placed on Mai’s chest, still attached by a cord pulsing with faint flashes of blue as though the last tendrils had actually slipped into its umbilical. Above, a weave of light bridged the cave’s high ceiling, glimmering faintly.

“One more!” exclaimed Mai, and she sucked in a breath and pushed again.

Priya caught a red mass in a bowl.

Miyara hurried forward to offer tea to the new mother. “You have to name the child before you cut the cord,” she said to Mai.

Mai’s eyes were closed, and at length she opened them to stare at the baby, who opened its tiny eyes as if in answer. “The father names a child,” she said, in a remarkably ordinary voice. “I must wait for Anji.”