Harmindon's Finest

Chapter 16 - Kulîlka Padîşahan

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"Isn't she just the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen?" Túrien cooed hoarsely, unable to take her eyes off her newborn daughter. Her name was Myriam, which meant - though it depended on context - rebelliousness, or wished for child. Both suited her quite well, I thought. Túrien leaned against large cushions on her bed, still too weak to stand nearly a week after the birth, but evidently rapidly recovering. Her family were already on their way home, and Túrien summoned me, evidently bored out of her mind from staying still for so long.

I looked at Myriam.

Myriam looked back.

I did not have much experience with babies, but even I could truthfully admit the new little ramyahani was quite beautiful. She was too young even to smile at her mother but she opened and closed her little mouth prettily, her eyes already a deep, soulful brown, like her father's. Myriam was also not screaming like most babies would when only several days old, but she had a look about her that said quite clearly she could scream if she wanted to. It was an unusually intelligent look for a baby - but then again, she had an unusual ancestry. Descended from Elves and kings and a long line of Ramyahs also, I had a feeling this baby would grow into a magnificent creature altogether.

"I'll bet Ramyah Sawda was pleased," I said, reaching out to trace a finger lightly over Myriam's head. It was so delicate and soft I shivered with pleasure, the soft black down clinging to the soft scalp making it feel like new silk. 

"Pleased is the biggest understatement probably ever. She was more excited than Sufyan, who was so agitated during my labour that he spent most of the time turning cartwheels in the main hall to keep his mind occupied. Or so Eldarion told me," Túrien laughed, squealing softly with delight when Myriam made a grab for her fingers. "Anyway, Sawda was over the moon to have her line secured, bless her."

I managed a polite smile, hastily removing my hand when Myriam began to whimper, sitting on them to stop myself fidgeting. I watched the pair for a while, as Túrien dangled her slim fingers above her daughter's head, goading her into making another grab for them.

"And now, my dear, are you going to tell me what the matter is?"

I jumped, realising my mind had wandered. "I don't know what you mean, my lady," I said rather stiffly, embarrassed that she'd read my worry so easily.

"Jeddah, I've never seen you more preoccupied. Are we not friends? Will you not tell me what the matter is?"

It was always a shock to remember that Túrien thought of me as a friend. I didn't really feel as though I deserved such attention at first, but to know that I was the first person - excluding members of her family, and the midwife - to be allowed to see the child made me realise she truly meant it. I knew then that I could always rely on her friendship and advice, and was glad for it. But I did not want to upset her with my troubles, especially at such a sacred time in her life, so I shook my head - a little too fervently.

Unfortunately, Túrien insisted, and began to look at me properly for the first time since I entered the bedroom - the huge, fine bedroom, larger than my entire home, surrounded by soft orange drapes and cloth of gold, with wonderfully carved furniture and large windows letting in lots of natural light. I sighed, and explained.

"It's my sister. She was caught in the storm a few days ago - and now she's ill." To my horror, I heard my voice shake, but I blinked fiercely and went on. "She's such a lively, mischievous creature, I hardly believed she was capable of illness - and yet, she just lies on her bed, barely able to breathe, and she is so hot, it is though she is burning."