Obsidian Thornwing's Arc

Chapter 15 of 18

Obsidian woke at dawn with his list still in his head. Boards. Nails. A window for the east wall. He kissed Sylvara's forehead, left bread on the table for her, and walked into Mosswood before the sun cleared the trees. He knew swords. He knew how to hold a flank line and how to sleep in armor. He did not know what a pregnant fairy needed. He had never watched a woman carry a child. He had never watched anyone do it. He stood in the square with his list and felt the size of what he did not know. He went to the townhall. The stone was cold under his hand. Inside, the clerk pointed him up the stairs to where the watch records were kept. Iron Riven sat at a narrow table with a ledger open, marking tracks from the tree line. "You're up early," Iron said. He did not look up. "I need help." Iron closed the ledger. "Sit." Obsidian sat. He laid his list on the table. Boards. Nails. Window. Iron read it and pushed it back across the wood. "That's the room," Iron said. "Not the wife." "I don't know the wife part." Iron leaned back. His green hood fell to his shoulders. "I raised four. Buried one. The rest still write." Obsidian waited. Iron did not soften things and Obsidian did not want him to. "First months, she'll be sick," Iron said. "Keep bread by the bed. Dry, not fresh. Water always in reach. Don't ask if she wants it. Just set it there." Obsidian nodded. "Her back will hurt before her belly shows. Warm cloth on it at night. Not hot. Warm." "Warm." "She'll cry at nothing. Don't fix it. Sit with her." "Sit with her." "Feet swell in the last stretch. Prop them on a folded blanket. Not a pillow. A blanket holds shape." Iron went on for an hour. Obsidian wrote it on the back of his board list in charcoal, small and tight, the way he wrote deployment orders. Iron did not slow for him. Obsidian did not ask him to. When Iron finished, he tapped the paper. "One more. When the child comes, you'll want to be useful. You won't be. Hand her water. Stay in the room. That's the work." "That's the work," Obsidian repeated. Iron opened the ledger again. "Go home, Thornwing." Obsidian folded the list into his coat and stood. At the door he stopped. "Thank you." Iron marked a line in his book. "Buy the nails on the way out." Obsidian bought the nails. He bought dry bread too, and a bolt of soft cloth for warming. He walked the ridge trail back with the pack heavy on his good shoulder. The cabin glowed at the end of the path. Sylvara stood in the doorway. He raised the list so she could see it. He was ready now. For this part, at least.