Jay Lake: Endurance

Eventually my child slipped into the world on a flood of blood and water and a surprised wail. “A daughter,” Laris announced. I wondered even in that red-hot moment how Blackblood would see this abrogation of his prophecy.

But something else came, I could feel it. Her. Another child?

Laris exclaimed wordlessly, while Mother Vajpai said, “He grasps at her ankle.”

A second baby, sliding from me with another rush of heat and pain, close behind the first.

“A boy,” Laris said this time. Then I knew how the prophecy was made. I should have seen it long before, but as with so many other mistakes, I had been blind.

“Do not,” I said, straining, “do not ever give my children to the gods.”

My own life lost to being ridden by their hideous strength was enough.

Crying, I lay back in the shadow of Endurance as they placed the babies on my swollen, sore breasts. Words and blessings and warm cloths touched me and my two children, but they would never be enough. Larger shadows loomed in the temple as well, as if Blackblood and Mother Iron and perhaps the Lily Goddess looked on.

Divine favor? Divine fear?

Even now, in this moment, I knew Kalimpura awaited me, and my two lost promises there-Corinthia Anastasia and Samma. Were they so different from my two new responsibilities here?

No matter what I did for them, my children could not be safe. Not safe enough. Nothing would ever be enough. Still, I would try, because that is what I do in this life, from the first days, through the birth of my children, and down the years to follow with all the sorrow and pleasure they have brought me.

I sobbed all the harder. My friends around me mistook this for joy.

After all that has happened since, I can say in truth that they were not completely wrong.