Silver Dew by Suzi Davis Page A

couldn’t yet understand why. It had to be the will of the Gods.
    “I will come,” I agreed. Relief flooded his face, words of gratitude and thanks already forming on his lips. “But I make no promises. Most likely your mother and the babe will both die, but I shall do what I can.”
    His expression became weary and somber once more at my pronouncement. He nodded his head in agreement. “I appreciate the truth of your words. Thank you.”
    The young man sounded so genuinely grateful that for a moment, I was at a loss for words. I blinked twice, quickly regaining my composure and wondering over the strange effect this boy was having over me.
    “There is little time. Let us make haste.” I began marching down the path as I spoke, the young man’s long legs and steady stride an even match for my own.
    We half-marched, half-ran down the winding path that led us to the village. I asked the boy a few quick questions about his mother as we approached. He had three older sisters who were caring for her alongside the midwife. He was the youngest sibling of the four. Many had been shocked when his mother had conceived another child near sixteen-summers after his own birth. I guessed her age to be close to that of the Head Priestess’s – far too old to be bearing children as far as my limited knowledge told me. I could not imagine how I was going to help this poor woman or if it were even possible for me to do so but I had told the boy I would try, and so I would.
    Thankfully the boy’s family lived at the edge of the village, close to the base of the hill. We passed only a few other villagers as we made our way there, all of whom gasped at the sight of me and hurriedly scurried away. They feared me, they rejected me, they didn’t remember that I had once been one of them. My heart wept from the aching loneliness that chewed at its edges and my anger flared, cold and sharp. I pushed all the emotions aside, maintaining the calm, collected composure that was expected for someone of my station.
    As we neared the young man’s home, the sounds of his mother’s agonized moans and cries began to reach my ears. I needed no further direction and marched ahead of him, striding up to the sturdy little hut with its finely woven roof. I pushed the door open without announcing myself, knowing it was not truly necessary. The shocked gasps as I entered the dimly lit room confirmed that I had been recognized.
    I took the scene in quickly. Three young women knelt about the mother’s bed. They were all quite attractive and had long, dark, nearly black hair and bright blue eyes. The similarity between the sisters and their brother outside was obvious. Their mother looked to be even older than I had expected, streaks of silver twisted throughout her loose dark hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead. She had obviously once been an attractive woman but her face was now worn with exhaustion, her skin pale as death, her beautiful gray eyes clouded with fear and pain. Her swollen belly protruded beneath a coarse blanket, her arms and legs so thin and frail in comparison. I quickly took note of the pile of blood-stained rags nearby and the large dark stain on the dirt floor. I took a quick, steadying breath.
    “Your son has brought me to help you.” I spoke only to the woman, watching her without displaying any emotion as her eyes tried to focus on my face. “I will do all I can but no matter what you may have heard, there are limits to my powers. I will try to save you.”
    “And the babe?” she asked, her voice stronger than I had expected, her words carrying a clear confidence just like her son’s. “Please, save my baby.”
    “I will try.”
    I turned to the daughters then who all immediately dropped their eyes and shrank back from me in fear. I swallowed down my disgust at their reaction.
    “Leave us,” I quietly instructed. They rushed, almost gratefully, from the small room.
    “Who are you?” the woman asked in the silence that