YEAR OF THE FLEDGLING

2. Magda

magda

AND THE FOURTH SON OF A THIRD DAUGHTER

“Magda! I need you in here.”

The healer’s apprentice lifted her attention from the bowl at the table where she’d been grinding a poultice into a creamy paste.

“Yes, sir. I’m coming,” she called back.

After carefully setting her pestle next to the mixture, she lifted the full mortar with both hands and started to turn away, only for a resounding c***k of thunder to cause an animal-like whine to yelp from below the very table she’d been working at.

Frowning curiously, Magda crouched to peer under the surface, and she found a young child huddled there with a short mop of disheveled hair, wide, frightened eyes, and two tracks of tears streaking through the grime coating his face.

“Well, hello there,” she murmured in surprise.

This was the youngest boy of the household, if she recalled correctly, and only two or three years past his birth. She’d seen him and his two older brothers numerous times around the village and at the market with their parents. They’d always been so well-groomed, not a hair or fold of clothing out of place, for they were fine, upstanding, and notable citizens in the community.

It spoke volumes to see the child this filthy and unkempt.

His whimper trembled pathetically as he scurried backward, deeper into the shadows of safety away from her.

“Hey, shh… It’s alright,” Magda told him gently. “You don’t have to be afraid. Everything’s going to be just—”

Her reassurances were cut short by an even louder bang of thunder that caused the windows to rattle while a woman’s scream of agony echoed in terrifying waves throughout the cottage.

The child howled.

“Magda!” the master healer bellowed. “Now.”

“Yes, okay, okay,” she said, bustling back to her feet, only to pause and whisper to the boy, “Your mama will be just fine. I swear it.”

Hurrying now, she hustled the poultice toward the closed door, where she could hear the woman’s groaning pleas with more clarity.

Two young teens had been pacing in front of the entrance, but they quickly stepped aside to give Magda room to enter, while the woman’s husband remained slumped in a chair next to the door, holding his head in his hands.

“Born during a cursed storm,” he mumbled feverishly to himself. “Bad omen. It’s all a bad omen. I told her we should’ve ended this misfortune the moment we realized she was carrying. I told that blasted woman. Why did she insist on nurturing it to birth? Damned third daughter… Damned third daughter…”

Third daughter?

Magda sucked in a startled breath and gaped at the man in horror before quickly glancing toward his two oldest boys. They looked as scared as their youngest brother hiding under the table. She wished she could offer them a bit of comfort, but if the mad ravings from their father were true…

Then the Lord have mercy on them all.

She knocked briefly to give warning before she slipped inside the birthing room.

“I have the poultice, sir,” she announced proudly, trying to draw in a decent lungful of air in the hot, stifling chamber. “Would you like me to—”

“Forget it,” her teacher snapped. “It’s too late for that now. Just get over here.”

“So you don’t need—?” Magda glanced down in disappointment at the mixture she’d been so eager to share, prepared precisely as it should be. She’d been hoping to impress Master Benson with her superb mixing abilities.

But apparently, that would have to wait.

“Okay, then.” Reluctantly, she set the pain-numbing salve on a nearby chair and hurried over.

“What do you need me to—oh!” As soon as she reached the bed where the healer was kneeling between the spread knees of the panting woman, she glanced down to see more than she’d ever wanted to. “I—I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized the babe would be crowning so soon.”

She blinked in amazement at the patch of hair on the infant’s head that was trying to push its way from its mother’s body.

Magda had birthed three children herself. She was no stranger to the woman’s agony. But she had to admit, she’d never seen it from this vantage point before.

“Yes, well…” Master Benson concentrated on his task of helping the woman extricate her child more easily. “The more you have, the faster they come.”

The woman moaned again as another contraction seemed to be gearing up for action.

“Get behind her and keep her sitting upright, will you?” he instructed in a distracted voice as he waved Magda forward. “It will help her push easier.”

“Yes, sir.” Magda hurried to the head of the bed and made eye contact with the woman for the first time since she’d arrived at the cottage. “Hello…” she offered with a quiet, reassuring smile. “Let me help you up, may I?” As she held out a kind, supportive hand, the woman blinked at her from pain-filled, pleading eyes.

“Can you see the babe? Is it a girl?”

Her fingers were clammy and slippery, making Magda tighten her grip so as not to lose her hold.

“Only the head’s showing,” Magda offered politely, as she assisted the woman with sitting the correct way. Then she crawled onto the mattress behind her and scooted in close, pressing her front to the woman’s back. “Hold on to me as tightly as you need.”

The woman nodded gratefully and clung to Magda until her fingers turned white from the lack of circulation.

When Master Benson lifted his gaze with a questioning expression, the new mother trembled but bravely announced, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Magda wasn’t sure how ready she was, though. She had only been apprenticing under the healer for a couple of weeks now, and this was the first birth she’d assisted with. She didn’t want to do anything wrong.

As the woman clamped down on her harder yet and grunted, then groaned, and finally wailed through a push, the words third daughter kept swimming through Magda’s head.

If the mother was honestly the third-born daughter in her family, then this child—if he were a boy—would be her fourth son.

Magda shuddered in concern.

It’d been so long since they’d had a fourth son of a third daughter in the village. She hadn’t even considered the possibility of having to deal with such a situation when she’d agreed to become the next healer’s apprentice.

Glory be. But this poor, unfortunate mother.

Magda could only hope it wasn’t true.

The next few minutes were tense, but the master healer kept such a calm, reassuring voice as he talked the woman through her delivery that Magda found herself in awe of him. He was an amazing teacher, and she hoped to learn much under his steady counsel.

He was smiling and murmuring, “There we go…” before Magda knew quite where the time had gone.

The new mother probably didn’t share such thoughts, of course. She slumped back against Magda, panting hard and overtaxed after her exhausting struggle.

Yet the first words she managed to utter were, “Is it a… Is it…?”

Magda watched the healer tuck the child close and swab his finger over the babe’s mouth until it gave a small cry. Its miniature arms and legs jerked as if all this new, outer-womb air affronted it. Then the healer smiled and looked up. “Healthy lungs,” he announced.

“But is it a girl?” the mother insisted, growing impatient.

Glancing down, Master Benson’s smile faltered. When he lifted his face again, he met Magda’s eyes first.

She knew then the woman would not like what she heard.

“It’s a beautiful baby boy, milady,” he finally said.

“No…” the woman sobbed and instantly buried her face in her hands to shudder out her grief. “Nooo!”

Magda winced in sympathy.

The woman would only get a few moon cycles—a year at most—with the child before he’d be taken away for his service. Magda couldn’t imagine losing any of her children in such a horrendous way. She was suddenly very thankful that she was the only daughter her parents had birthed and not a third.

“Magda,” the healer said, lifting the child in her direction. “Take him, will you? He needs to be cleaned and swaddled. And suction his nose and mouth some more. Keep all his airways clear.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded and then patted the woman’s shoulder sympathetically, for she and her entire family would become outcasts after this.

As she crawled off the bed and the bloody child was passed to her, she looked down into his young but wise and fathomless eyes that opened briefly.

“Hi there, little one,” she whispered. “My, but you’re a handsome charmer, aren’t you? Yes, you are.”

She took the infant to a table, where she laid him out on a waiting sheet.

Murmuring soft, soothing words to keep him settled as she attended to him, Magda patiently cleaned away the afterbirth and checked all his air passages before tucking the cloth around him until he was swaddled, snug and warm.

“I have a daughter at home, almost as young as you, you know,” she told him conversationally as she worked. “Xiamara. She’s loud and demanding, always sure to let us know when she wants food or attention. But when she’s happy, she kicks her legs and gurgles with the cutest sounds.”

The boy wasn’t loud like Xia, nor did he move all that much. And he didn’t demand a single thing from Magda. He just lay there, his ear tilted her way as if listening to everything she said. She had to tickle the bottoms of his tiny toes every few seconds just to ensure he still could kick and fuss.

Once she had him wrapped securely and back in her arms, the baby turned his head toward her, eyes closed and frail body trusting. It was as if he were thanking her for seeing to his needs.

Magda smiled and stroked a finger along the side of his soft cheek. It was impossible to imagine this precious face becoming a hardened Eradicator. She just wanted to hide him away from his fate and keep him safe forever.

But reality prevailed.

With a relenting sigh, she returned to the bedside and offered the infant to the new mother just as Master Benson finished treating her. Magda’s smile trembled with sympathy as she extended the child forward. “Are you ready to hold him now?”

“What? Never!” Grimacing in revulsion, the woman lifted her hands to block Magda. “Keep that horrid thing away from me.”

“But… Horrid?” Magda blinked, not understanding. “No, he’s your son.”

“Magda,” Master Benson said in quiet reprimand.

She glanced at him, surprised and confused that he seemed dissatisfied with her of all people. She wasn’t the one rejecting her own child.

He tipped his head toward the doorway, silently commanding her to take the child out.

Her lips parted. She couldn’t believe the new mother didn’t even want to see him or that the healer would condone such behavior. As a mother herself, it seemed preposterous. Who cared what the babe would do to her status in the community; he was a part of her.

But Magda nodded her obedience and hurried from the room, where the child’s father and two older brothers crowded eagerly.

“Is it—?” the man started with hope in his eyes.

“It’s a healthy baby boy,” she told him, making sure her smile was bright and promising as she held out the swathed gift.

But the man lurched backward as if she were offering him the pox instead.

“A boy? No… Cursed storm,” he hissed and spat degradingly on the floor at Magda’s feet. “Get it away from me. Get it out of my house!”

She shook her head. “But… You’re allowed to keep him until he’s weaned. You can—”

“Foul woman,” he snarled. “Shut your mouth before I smack it off your face.” Gaping at Magda as if she’d been the one to spit at him, he seethed sanctimoniously. “Are you suggesting we house that filthy Erad in our home for one moment longer? How could you—”

“How could I?” she repeated indignantly, her back going rigid and chin lifted. A righteous heat filled her belly. “Now, you listen here. This child is your son. He isn’t—”

The c***k of his palm against her cheek resounded through the room and muffled her cry of outrage.

His two oldest children shied backward in surprise as he stepped threateningly toward Magda. “I told you—”

“Sir.” Master Benson cleared his throat discreetly, interrupting them from the doorway of the birthing room.

The man turned slowly, his eyes flaring with wrath, and a cowering Magda scurried away, out of his line of fire.

The healer’s lips were pressed thinly in displeasure, but all he did was glance at Magda to ensure that she was okay, and then he turned back to the new father, his voice modulated and firm, even as he said, “We could, of course, take him to the Eradicators’ Keep for you tonight, milord.” Then he sent the irate man a tight but calming smile. “If that is your wish.”

“No!” the new father fumed. “That is most definitely not my wish. I’d rather you take it out back and drown it.”

Magda hissed out a breath and tucked the infant closer as she scowled at the man for his inhumanity. They’d have to go through her before getting anywhere near the boy.

Meanwhile, the master healer was bowing his head submissively. “An understandable desire,” he murmured, causing his apprentice to swerve a startled scowl his way. But then he paused and held up a finger. “However… The law dictates that every fourth son of a third daughter be given over to the Eradicators by the end of his first year, or ten lashes apiece will be delivered to every person present at his birth: man, woman, and child alike. I assume you don’t wish for yourself or your three boys, along with your weak wife in there, to receive ten lashes, now do you? I can assure you I don’t wish that for them. Ergo, I recommend he be taken to the keep instead of being drowned.”

“Well, then…” the man blustered for a moment, his face screwing tight into an embarrassed pink. “I suppose what must be done must be done, but we can’t have anyone knowing an Erad came from our household. Our reputation, you see. It would be ruined. Can’t you report my wife’s…incident as a miscarriage or stillbirth or whatever? I beg you.”

Magda bit her lip, wanting to rail at the man.

Of course, no one wanted to admit to being kin to one of the Eradicators, but this sweet, innocent child was his flesh and blood. He couldn’t help being born fourth in line, or that his mother had been born third. None of this was his fault, and yet they were acting as if he were already a monster.

“Sir…” the master healer said uneasily. “The unethical request you’re making isn’t—”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” the father interrupted intently. “Twenty coins,” he offered. “I’ll pay you twenty coins over tonight’s fee. Just don’t associate that…thing”—he motioned toward the child with a sneer—“to our family in any way.”

“Milord—”

“Fifty!”

“But—”

“I’ll pay you a hundred coins over your usual fee.”

The master healer fell back a step and then glanced toward Magda, as if considering the offer. She lifted her brows, silently telling him she didn’t accept any of this.

He turned back to the father. “A hundred apiece?” he asked pointedly. “For my apprentice will need her silence assured as well. You understand.”

Magda’s lips parted in outrage. She did not want to be bought off. Why, she had half a mind to go out into the street right now, amidst the storm and all, to announce to everyone that a new fourth son of a third daughter had just been born in this very cottage.

But the man was unstable. And she had a family. If he was so willing to cast off his own child to protect his reputation, she could only imagine what he might do to hers if she spoke a word about tonight to anyone.

The father squinted at Magda with mistrust, as if he’d rather strangle her to silence than pay her a single farthing. But then he gave a slight nod of the head. “A hundred apiece,” he agreed.

“Alright, then,” Master Benson announced, clasping his hands together as if pleased to come to such an arrangement. “We have a deal.” Smiling pleasantly from the man to Magda, his grin faltered when he caught sight of her scowl.

But all he did was clear his throat past any guilt he may feel, and he held out his arms. “Give the child here, Magda,” he instructed. “I’ll take him to the Eradicators’ Keep posthaste.”

With a sniff of denial, she turned slightly to block him, no longer trusting the babe with anyone. “I can take him,” she argued.

Her mentor lifted his eyebrows at her insubordination. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Women don’t belong anywhere near there. Besides, you have your own family I expect you’re eager to return to.”

After witnessing this household’s lack of love and devotion, she was, in fact, very eager to get home to her husband and children and embrace them all. But a heated stubbornness had fumed to life inside her, and she held fast to the babe. “If I’m to take up your post someday, sir,” she told the master healer steadily. “Then I suspect I’d better get used to visiting the Eradicators. So, as I said, I will take the child to them myself.”

The healer must’ve seen the determination in her eyes because he paused before giving her a deferential nod. “As you wish, Magda. Just remember… Ten lashes go to anyone who refuses to turn over a fourth son of a third daughter by his first year.”

Magda lifted her chin. “I will not refuse my duties,” she said steadily before glancing hard at the infant’s father. “I fully respect the laws.”

The father scowled back before turning away and dismissing her completely.

“Then hurry along,” Master Benson said with a single nod. “I believe there’s a break in the weather. If you time it right, maybe you can avoid getting soaked from the storm.”

“Yes, sir,” Magda answered, glancing down at the child in sorrow and silently wishing him strength and perseverance to weather the difficult life he had ahead of him. “I won’t disappoint you.”