Paul doesn't know anything
Paul had known that Flann would be awake. She had probably slept no more than his father had the night before, and no more on any of the other nights. The ladies said she was having a difficult pregnancy—but at least she was having it.
She looked up and smiled. “Good morning to you, Paul.”
“Good morning, Flann. Make room?”
She slid over, and he dropped himself onto the step beside her with less than his usual grace.
“Too worn out to climb onto the roof this morning?” she teased.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he said softly.
“About Vash?”
“About Vash?” He snorted. “Poor Vash. I forgot about Vash.”
“Ach, this must be serious, then. What is it?” She still smiled a teasing smile, but her eyes were searching.
“Could you tell me when you knew you were expecting a baby?”
“Is that a question to ask one’s sister-in-law?” she grimaced. “But wait—do you want to know when I knew, or when a woman knows?”
“When a woman knows, but I had to ask a woman who knew.”
“Ach, I see,” she smiled and shook her finger beneath his nose. “You’re thinking perhaps my sister is.”
“I know she is.”
“Now, this is a good morning!” she beamed.
He tried to smile.
“You don’t seem too happy about it, Paul. It’s a sweet father you’ll make, you know. You’ve had plenty of practice with Penedict, and you may have some last-minute catching up with mine before yours comes. You don’t… Paul?”
She laid her hand on his shoulder and shook him. He let his body go limp, and the ripples shook through his body. But he could not let himself go.
“When did you know?” he asked.
“Doesn’t she know yet?”
“That’s what I’m trying to learn,” he sighed.
“Oh. So… a woman begins to wonder when she misses her bleed. You know about that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. And for women that’s once a moon. So…”
“But that’s not always certain. Sometimes she’ll miss for no reason. But if a woman wants the baby, she thinks she’s certain if she’s a day late, and if she doesn’t want it, she refuses to believe it until it starts kicking her.” She patted her belly and sighed.
“When does it start kicking?”
“Ach, Paul!” she groaned. “Why don’t you simply tell her?”
“I don’t want her to know.”
“But Paul! She’s bound to find out sooner or later!”
“Perhaps not,” he muttered. “I don’t believe it will live long.”
“What?” she gasped.
Now he had said it. Now he had to press on. “If a woman loses her baby after a day or two, does she even know it was there?”
“Paul!”
“Please tell me. I can’t—”
He pressed his hand over his mouth. He wanted to say that he couldn’t talk about it much longer, but in fact he could not even talk about it long enough to say that much.
Flann passed her arm around his back and hugged him. “I don’t know much about that, darling. I got mine my first time, or nearly so, I think. And he clearly means to stay. I don’t know anything about losing babies. But why, Paul? Is there something wrong with it?”
“It’s perfect,” he whispered.
For a while he waited for her to ask: “Then why?” For a while she quietly waited for him to say more. He could not. He gave her a pleading look.
“Have you ways of seeing things we women cannot?” she asked softly.
Her question freed his tongue again. “The baby has water nature. Cat has fire nature. Water cannot move through fire.”
She frowned.
“Her baby has dew nature. Look at the dew.” He slid his foot out into the weeds at the foot of the steps. “How long will it last? The sun will be up soon.”
“I don’t quite understand all this, Paul,” she frowned.
“It is why we do not bind fire to fire among my people. Or air to air, or any elf to an elf of like nature. Any children would have the contrary nature. Which means there would be no children.”
Flann’s eyes went wide. She bent near to his ear and whispered, “Are you saying Cat won’t have any children?”
“I don’t know,” he said miserably. “I don’t know anything. It was what I have always been taught. But Aengus and Lena have fire nature, and so does Penedict. Malcolm and Iylaine do, and so does Duncan, and likely her new baby, too. I thought it would be the same for us. Why are we different?” he whimpered.
“Perhaps it is because she has some of your fire in her.”
He let his head fall against the railing, too unhappy even to admit that it was perhaps the truth. Just when he had thought he and Cat had put that nightmarish night behind them…
“Ach!” Flann sighed and shook her head. “And she wants children so badly! She cried when she bled this month—she can’t bear to wait even a month longer than she must.”
“And you think I should tell her?” he asked bitterly.
“No… I never said that.”
“Yes, you did!”
“That was before I knew.”
He let his head fall again.
“Isn’t Vash coming today?” she asked after a while.
“He said he would.”
“Then you shall ask him.”
“Vash has his own troubles,” he grumbled.
“Has that ever stopped him from helping his friends?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Then we shall ask him. Perhaps he knows, or perhaps he can find out from the other elves.”
“Perhaps it will be too late by the time he comes,” he said.
“Too late? Already? In a few hours?”
For answer Paul only kicked a tuft of dewy weeds with the toe of his boot. The sun was already above the horizon, hazy and hot in a whitening sky.
