Hours, it must be, Orhan sitting and listening to the screams. March Verneth dying. Bil’s baby being born. Felt like the screams were March’s, as well as Bil’s. Maybe his own heart.

Darath left. Hurriedly. Couldn’t blame him. Orhan would have left himself, if he could. Janush the doctor rushed around looking anxious. The servant girl Nilesh, banished from Bil’s bedroom, slunk wide-eyed outside the door. Mannelin Aviced, Bil’s father, was summoned, slunk wide-eyed around Orhan’s library. Doting future grandfather. Chewing his knuckles raw.

You told us the High Priestess Thalia was dead, and you told us the invaders were from Immish, and now my daughter is screaming giving birth to your heir. Orhan fled from Mannelin back to his own bedroom.

Janush the doctor ordered they burn lemon peel and mint leaves. Fill Bil’s room with candles. Light candles in the gardens and before the house’s gates. Bright clear light to welcome the new life.

Let her live, thought Orhan. Dear Lord, Great Tanis who rules all things, from the fear of life and the fear of death, release us. Let her live.

Bil screamed.

Orhan sent servants out to buy more lemons. Sent a message to Celyse, confirming what she would already know.

Let it live, thought Orhan. Dear Lord, Great Tanis who rules all things, from the fear of life and the fear of death, release us. Let it live.

I wonder what Sterne would be feeling? he thought. Would he be happy? Rejoice at the birth of his child? I wonder if she told him, before he died.

Bil stopped screaming. A long, terrible empty waiting silence. A strange high-pitched wail. Like nothing Orhan had ever heard. Painful. Heart rending. But also something filled with hope.

The baby. Screaming. Raging and rejoicing at being born.

We are grateful. God’s knives. For these things, we are grateful.

Janush the doctor entered, threw himself at Orhan’s feet. “A boy! Great Tanis be praised! A boy! The heir to the House of the East! The next Lord of the Rising Sun!”

Celyse will be disappointed, Orhan thought dryly. Her son is now no longer my heir. He smiled at Janush, who must know that the baby was heir to a dead guardsman called Sterne. “A boy! Great Tanis be praised indeed.”

“Will you see it, My Lord?” Janush gestured towards the doorway. A servant girl entered, carrying a bundle of shining white cloth. She knelt awkwardly before Orhan, holding out the bundle. From the silk, a tiny thing thrashed its hands. It reminded Orhan of the unhatched dove chicks he’d been gorging on at the wedding feast. Disgusting. Raw looking. He reached out and touched it. Fingers closed around his fingers. The strangest thing he’d ever seen.

“Great Tanis be praised.” It smelled odd, like blood and bread and fruit mould. Crusted and streaked with blood. “The heir to the House of the East. The next Lord of the Rising Sun,” he said loudly. If any of them survived. Dead. Dead.

The baby whimpered. Orhan raised it to his face. My heir. Its tiny hands brushed at his face. Wrinkled like old, old man hands, webbed skeletal hands. It did not look like a human being, but its hands looked like human hands. Tiny nails. Its hands caught his face. Scratched him. He kissed its forehead. Up so close the smell was sweeter. A good strange smell. Its skin was waxy. Bil’s body fluids. Bil’s blood. So astonishing.

“And Bilale?”

“Lady Emmereth is well, My Lord,” said Janush.

Good. Such deep relief: I do care for her, he thought, you see, I am not a monster. “Good.”

He kissed the boy again. This strange raw looking tiny thing.

My son, he thought slowly then. My son.

The girl took the baby out back to its mother. Orhan almost winced watching her rise awkwardly to her feet and walk out backwards with the baby in her arms. It made a shrill cry as it was carried out. Made him shudder with guilt.

Names, he thought wearily. Names. Name day ceremony. Offerings at the Great Temple. Telling Darath. Confirming the news to Celyse. The Emperor would have to be informed of the birth of an heir to the Lord of the Rising Sun his Nithque. He summoned a messenger, started composing a formal letter to Celyse.

And then a servant came running, terrified to interrupt him, to tell him that March Verneth had died.