She said, “It’s some sort of stomach problem. I just walked in a moment ago and the smell of food . . .” She grew even more pale, and suddenly her hand came to her mouth as she fought to keep whatever was in her stomach down. She turned and left the kitchen, hurrying out the back door toward the jakes.
Mary, a simple enough young woman of modest intellect, said, “I’m so worried about the lady.”
Rendel laughed and turned back to the vegetables she was washing in a bucket in the sink. “She’ll be fine.”
As Roo looked at them both, obviously unsure what to do next, Mary said, “Sir, should I go see to the lady?”
Roo said, “No. I’ll go,” and he went after his wife out the rear door of the home.
The plain fa?ade of the house hid, along with the interior of the home, the rich little garden that lay behind it. Karli spent a great deal of her time in the garden, which was equally divided between vegetables and flowers. At the far wall stood the modest little outhouse, from which issued the sound of Karli’s retching.
As he reached the door, it opened and a pale Karli emerged. “Are you all right?” said Roo, at once regretting the question.
Karli’s expression showed it to be one of the more stupid questions of Roo’s life, but she said, “I’ll be fine.”
Roo said, “Should I send for a healer?”
Karl smiled at his obvious concern. “No, it’s nothing a healer can help.”
Panic revealed itself in Roo’s face. “My gods! What is it?” Karli couldn’t help but laugh, despite her obvious physical discomfort. She allowed him to offer an arm and let him walk her to a tiny stone bench next to a modest fountain. “It’s nothing to be alarmed over, Roo,” she said. When they sat she told him, “I wanted to be sure. You’re going to be a father.”
Roo sat speechless for a minute. “I need to sit down.”
Karli laughed. “You are sitting.”
Roo stood, said, “Now I need to sit down,” and sat down again. Then his narrow face split in the widest grin Karli had ever seen. “A baby?”
Karli nodded, and Roo suddenly realized he had never seen her look so lovely. He kissed her on the cheek. “When?”
“Seven more months,” she said.
Roo calculated, and his eyes widened. “Then . . .”
She nodded. “The first night.”
Roo said, “Imagine that.” He sat motionless and speechless for a long moment. Then a thought crossed his mind, and he said, “I shall have Luis change the sign to ‘Avery and Son’ at once!”
Karli’s eyes narrowed. “Change the name of the company?”
Roo took her hand and said, “My love, I want the world to know I have a son coming.” He stood up. “I must tell Duncan and Erik, before I leave tomorrow.”
He was halfway across the garden when she asked, “Leave tomorrow?”
He halted. “I’m going to run a special cargo to Salador for the Prince. I’ll tell you about it when I get back, but I need to tell Erik and Duncan I’m going to be a father.”
He dashed out of the garden without waiting for a reply. Karli sat quietly for a moment, then stood slowly. She asked herself, “What if it’s a daughter?”
In the failing evening light, she returned to the only home she had known her entire life, feeling nothing so much as a guest in her own house.
Roo groaned. Duncan laughed as he snapped the reins, urging the horses out the city gates. Duncan, Luis, Erik, and Roo’s other friends had feted their friend on the announcement of his coming fatherhood and now Roo was paying the price. He had been helped home by Duncan and had fallen into bed nearly comatose next to Karli. Without comment she had roused him the next day when, against expectations, Duncan had arrived on time.
They had made their way in the predawn light to the shop, hitched up the wagon, and headed out to the palace. At the gate a squad of men waited and they quickly loaded the cargo for Salador.
Then, to Roo’s surprise, Erik rode up with a squad of horsemen, an escort for the cargo. All he said was “I don’t know what’s in there, either.”
Now it was midday and the wagon rattled along at a good rate over the King’s Highway, starting the long climb up into the foothills of the southern end of the Calastius Mountains. Roo said, “We need to rest the horses.”
Duncan reined in the team and shouted, “Erik. Time for a break.”
Erik, who had been riding a short way ahead, nodded as he turned his own horse and dismounted, signaling to the other guards to do the same. He picketed his horse by the roadside and let it crop grass.
Duncan took a large waterskin and drank, then handed it to Roo. He poured a bit over his face and wiped it off, then drank.
Erik came over and asked, “How’s your head?”
“Too small to hold the pain inside,” Roo replied. “Why did I do that?”
Erik shrugged. “I sort of wondered myself. You seemed to be working very hard at being happy.”
Roo nodded. “Truth to tell, I’m scared witless. Me, a father.” Taking Erik away from the wagon, he said to Duncan, “Check the horses, will you?”