The Crystal City Page 0,130

is going to die."

"What! How can you-" But the midwife knew exactly how Margaret Larner could say such a thing, and so she fell silent.

"Grieving on your own childbed," grumbled the woman, "grieving for the baby before it's had a chance to live, it's not right."

"I wish I didn't know," said Margaret. "Oh, please God, make me wrong!"

And with a single push, the baby, small and thin, slipped out into the midwife's waiting hands.

The emptiness in her own body hurt more than the pains of labor. "No!" cried Margaret. "Don't cut the cord! Don't tie it off, no!" "But the baby needs to-"

"As long as the cord is still connected to my body then he isn't dead!"

They were starting to cross over the river now, but not with any spectacular show. The people might have expected otherwise, but Alvin insisted that they would come by boat, by raft, by canoe, by something that floated by itself.

"That'll take weeks," Verily told him.

"I know," said Alvin.

"Then why-"

"The first to come will fell logs and make shelters. A place for the children when they cross over the river. Six thousand souls, all in a place where there's nothing standing, nothing cleared? It's not too heavy a burden on Tenskwa-Tawa's people, to keep most of them on his side of the river for a while. They can spare the food-and the time. And on our side, well, Verily, you're the man who knows how things should fit together."

"But I should be with Lincoln, working on the charter."

"Who will I put in charge, if not you, Verily? You drew up the plat of the city. Who else knows it the way you do? Arthur Stuart isn't back from Mexico yet and besides, he's too young to be telling folks where to build their houses and where to farm. La Tia's no town-builder. Mike Fink? Rien? Who can I trust?"

"You can trust yourself," said Verily.

"I can't," said Alvin. "It's not my job."

"It's your city."

"Not today," said Alvin. "I have no city today. The baby's making ready to be born."

It took Verily a moment to register what baby he was talking about. "Now?"

"Soon," said Alvin. "Do you think I care about a single one of these six thousand souls, when my baby's going to die?"

Verily looked as if he had been slapped.

"Die," he said. "And you, who've healed so many..."

"Many but not all," said Alvin. "The first one died. This one isn't quite so early, but..."

"But you'll try."

"I'll do what I do," said Alvin. "You get the city started, Verily. It's as much yours as mine. You held onto the plow as much as I did."

The truth of that sank in and Verily nodded gravely. "So I did." He turned and left.

Alvin sat alone on the stone outcropping just above the spring. He reached down and filled his hands with water. He lifted the water to his face and started to drink, but then splashed it onto his skin and wept into his hands.

And then, in the far-off place where his attention really lay, in the very room where he himself had come out of his mother's womb, his wife gave a mighty push and all at once the baby was out in the open air and there was no more time for grief because even though he knew he could not save the baby, he had to try.

This time, at least, there was no fumbling and searching. He knew exactly what was wrong-the lungs, not yet fully formed inside, the tiny structures not yet ready to filter the air through into the blood. The tissue was a little better formed this time; some air was passing. And for some reason the baby's umbilical cord had not yet been tied off. The placenta would soon detach itself from the wall of the womb, but for the moment, there was still air passing into the baby's blood. So there was a little time. Not enough, it would take hours and hours to prepare the lungs, and the placenta could not last that long.

But he did not brood on what he could not do. Instead he simply did it, told each tiny part of the lung what to do, helped it do it, and then the next part, and the next, each time a little easier because the tissues could more easily change when they were adjacent to tissue that had already matured enough to transform the air into what the blood needed it to be.

It was almost as