“I’m not making any more bargains with you, Taran ab Genna. You know what I want.”
Taran grinned at me, unsurprised. He ran one more finger over the end of my braid, then stood up to go to bed.
“I do,” he said. “But as I’m inclined to keep you, you’re going to have to think of something else.”
I waited halfan hour after Taran went to bed before getting up. Just the waiting had been uncomfortable. Forming the intent to wait gave a sense of unease, one I fought by concentrating on the mnemonics for childhood illnesses. It was a long way to Wesha’s tower from the City, and if I had to fight my vow the entire time, it would be a painful one. Putting on my boots made my stomach cramp. Fastening my new cloak gave me a chill like the first day of a flu.
I could do it. I didn’t have to think about it. I just had to go. I didn’t pack anything else, because packing was planning, and planning was the first step to breaking a vow. I didn’t picture the Painted Tower as I took my first step into the hall. Instead, I imagined one of the low buildings at the edge of Genna’s sector of the City—a storehouse, or perhaps a barracks. There was no reason I couldn’t go there. I’d been farther from Taran earlier today.
My vow wasn’t fooled. When I silently closed the door to Taran’s rooms, I felt tightness in my chest. I breathed past it, and by concentrating on the names of the muscles that filled my lungs, I was able to keep walking through the interior courtyard and through the entrance hall.
True pain began once I opened the exterior door and looked for the horizon. At each cardinal direction there was a different slope of the Mountain. Wondering which I ought to climb made pain spark in my fingertips and toes, the little nerve endings coming alive as my vow to Wesha was seriously tested.
I tried to bargain with it. Perhaps Taran would come after me, and we’d both end up at the Painted Tower. Perhaps I’d be able to tell Wesha something about him that would show her how to lure him there herself.
My vow wasn’t satisfied. I’d promised to bring Taran to Wesha, end of statement, and it wouldn’t let me do anything contrary to that promise. The priests sang of vows wrapped around our hearts, and I could feel my heart’s rhythm stutter as I tried to run from Taran, but the vow wasn’t just in my heart. It was woven into every part of my body and soul, and as I walked faster, trying to outrun it, that fabric pulled and caught.
I tried to think of anything but what I was doing. I thought of my first mentor, Lascius, a sweet man, dead at Ereban, who taught me the rules for a breech labor when I was nine.
If the child is due and the waters haven’t broken yet, try to turn it. You’ll need all your strength, Iona, don’t do it halfway or the mother’s pain is wasted.
I nearly stumbled on the steps as pain began to radiate up from my feet into my legs. But I was in pain every day—I could endure pain and keep moving.
For complete breech, we’ll try labor for a day. If it doesn’t progress, boil your knife and call for a priest of Genna.
When my feet touched the path, I moved more quickly. One foot in front of the other, that was nothing to do with Taran. It was growing more difficult to coordinate my breathing.
For a frank breech, we’ll try labor only if the child is a second-born. Otherwise, boil your knife and call for a priest of Genna.
I felt tendons tightening, pulling away from my muscles. My bones ached like I’d fallen from a great height. Another step made pressure rise in my skull like a high fever. The pain made it easier to forget the idea of kneeling before Wesha and asking her to release me from my vow, and it momentarily receded. I tried to run past it. I had to be able to get farther than this.
For a footling breech, boil your knife and call for a priest of Genna. For a transverse lie, boil your knife and call for a priestof Genna. If one can’t be found, wash your hands with lye soap and make a last attempt at a turn during labor.
I opened my eyes to orient myself, but looking at the Mountain with the intention of climbing it made every muscle in my body lock up, and I fell. I couldn’t even extend my arms to protect myself, but luckily my head struck the lawn, instead of the path. It still rang, but that dizziness was barely perceptible over the agony my vow pulled from every sinew in my body. I imagined myself torn apart into my component atoms as my vow consumed every disobedient part of me. My muscles were separating from my bones; my tendons were twisting until I was afraid they’d snap.
Something leaked from my nose and wet my upper lip. A nosebleed, probably. Though if it was spinal fluid, I wouldn’t be hurting much longer.
All I needed to do to end my suffering was imagine that I was going to walk back into Taran’s room. All my vows were aligned on that course of action.
But I won’t ever have to cut the baby out, Lascius,I’d exclaimed in horror.I’ll just sing the blessing for an easy labor, and Wesha will turn it.
I was a prideful brat as a child, and I didn’t know how Lascius put up with me long enough to pass on half of what he knew—but it had taken me this long to realize he was trying to pass on something else important.
He’d known, like all the priests must have known, that the gods didn’t love us. They didn’t care for us. They transacted with us, and the price was far too high.
I thought I could sing so well because Wesha had blessed me. I spent my life certain that if I ever called, she’d answer as best she could. Gentle Wesha, the Maiden, who’d sacrificed herself to save the Heavens and the Earth both.
The stories had left out a few facets of her personality, just as much as they’d lied about the nature of the other gods.
Where the Maiden’s favor had failed me, my pride remained, and I lay panting on the ground, trying to summon the strength to stand and keep moving toward the Mountain. When my vision remained gray around the edges, I gave up on standing and tried to crawl instead. I wouldnotspend eternity in service to a man I’d once loved. I gained an inch. Another. There was a rush of darkness as I lost sight, and fear of blindness finally stilled me.
I didn’t lie there very long. Not long enough for dew to chill my skin or the blood on my lip to clot. I heard a door, then the slap of Taran’s bare feet on the path as he made his way to my side. I hadn’t even made it fifty paces from the building.
I hadn’t cried from the pain of trying to break my vow, but I cried at the shame of that. When Taran approached, yawning and sleepy, I tried to curl into a ball, but he squatted next to me and pushed my shoulder to roll me onto my back, which allowed him to briskly pat me down.
“You didn’t even steal anything?” he asked, sounding mildly outraged.
I blinked at him through watery eyes. He hadn’t bothered to dress and wore only loose linen trousers. He looked very human in the diffuse moonlight, very much like he had when he’d been mine. When I didn’t answer, he leaned in. “What was your bribe for Wesha? Your sunny personality? It wouldn’t have worked. She was never going to help you.”
