The Spine of the World - By R. A. Salvatore Page 0,129

whispers began throughout Auckney. Whispers about the child's due date. Whispers about the incident on the road. Whispers about the tragic death of Jaka Sculi. No fool, Meralda saw people counting on their fingers, saw the tension in her mother's face, though the woman wouldn't openly ask for the truth.

When the inevitable happened, predictably, Priscilla proved the source of it.

"You will birth the child in the month of Ches," the woman said rather sharply as she and Meralda dined with Steward Temigast one cold afternoon. The equinox was fast approaching, but winter hadn't released its grip on the land yet, a howling blizzard whipping the snow deep around the castle walls. Meralda looked at her skeptically.

"Mid-Ches," Priscilla remarked. "Or perhaps late in the month, or even early in the Month of the Storms."

"Do you sense a problem with the pregnancy?" Steward Temigast intervened.

Once again Meralda recognized that the man was her ally. He too knew, or at least he suspected as much as Priscilla, yet he'd shown no hostility toward Meralda. She'd begun to regard Temigast as a father figure, but the comparison seemed even more appropriate when she thought back to the morning after her night with Jaka, when Dohni Ganderlay had suspected the truth but had forgiven it in light of the larger sacrifice, the larger good.

"I sense a problem, all right," Priscilla replied brittly, somehow managing to convey through her tone that she meant no problem with the physical aspects of the pregnancy. Priscilla looked at Meralda and huffed, then threw down her napkin and rushed away, heading right up the stairs.

"What's she about?" Meralda asked Temigast, her eyes fearful. Before he could respond, she had her answer, when shouts rang out from upstairs. Neither of them could make out any distinct words, but it was obvious Priscilla had gone to speak with her brother.

"What should I do-" Meralda started to say, but Temigast hushed her.

"Eat, my lady," he said calmly. "You must remain strong, for you've trials ahead." Meralda understood the double meaning in those words. "I'm certain you'll come through them as long as you keep your wits about you," the old steward added with a comforting wink. "When it is all past, you will find the life you desire."

Meralda wanted to run over and bury her head on the man's shoulder, or to run out of the castle altogether, down the road to the warm and comfortable house Lord Feringal had given to her family and bury her face on her father's shoulder. Instead, she took a deep breath to steady herself, then did as Temigast suggested and ate her meal.

*****

The snow came early and deep that year. Morik would have preferred Luskan, but he'd come to see Wulfgar's point in bringing them to this village refuge. There was plenty of work to do, particularly after snowfalls when the grounds had to be cleared and defensible berms built, but Morik managed to avoid most of it by feigning an injury from the battle that had brought them here.

Wulfgar, though, went at the work with relish, using it to keep his body so occupied he hadn't time to think or dream. Still, Errtu found him in that village as he had in every place Wulfgar went, every place he would ever go. Now, instead of hiding in a bottle from the demon, the barbarian met those memories head-on, replayed the events, however horrible, and forced himself to admit that it had happened, all of it, and that he had faced moments of weakness and failure. Many times Wulfgar sat alone in the dark corner of the room he had been given, trembling, wet with cold sweat, and with tears he could hold back no longer. Many times he wanted to run to Morik's inexhaustible supply of potent liquor, but he did not.

He growled and he cried out, and yet he held fast his resolve to accept the past for what it was and to somehow move beyond it. Wulfgar didn't know where he had found the strength and determination, but he suspected it had laid dormant within him, summoned when he'd witnessed the courage Meralda had displayed to free him. She'd had so much more to lose than he, and yet she had rejuvenated his faith in the world. He knew now that his fight with Errtu would continue until he had honestly won, that he could hide in a bottle, but not forever.

They fought another battle around the turn of the year, a minor