The Demon Apostle

Chapter 20 Regrets

"But you are not thinking clearly, girl," Belster said, more loudly than he had intended. He put his finger over his pursed lips and glanced all around nervously. The Way was crowded and noisy this night, and apparently no one had heard.
Pony leaned heavily on the bar, twiddling her thumbs impatiently.
"How many of these folks do you think will join with the dark skins?" Belster asked earnestly, using the common synonym for the Behrenese.
"Of course," Pony replied sarcastically, "we are in a secure enough posi-tion to ignore possible allies. The odds are so overwhelmingly in our favor already, after all."
"You know what I am saying," Belster grumbled back. "The Behrenese are not - have never been - loved by the folk of Palmaris. In that above all else, Bishop De'Unnero has plotted well. Not hard to make of them an enemy, and now you are coming along and saying that we might fight beside them. No, a mistake, I say. We shall lose more allies than we gain if you follow this path beside this Captain Almet."
"Al'u'met," Pony corrected. "As honorable a man as I've ever met."
"His skin color alone will stop many folk from seeing that."
"Then they are misguided," Pony insisted, and then she looked question-ingly at Belster. "Is this what you truly fear, or are you also unreasonably prejudiced against the Behrenese?"
"Well ..." Belster mumbled, caught off guard by the blunt accusation. "Well, I've not known enough of them to make a judgment. I met one once, but only for a short - "
"Enough said," Pony said dryly.
"Oh, but you are twisting my words and my thoughts!" the innkeeper wailed.
"Only because you know that those thoughts are without merit," Pony retorted. "Al'u'met will stand with us, if it comes to that, and so will the Behrenese. They are allies we cannot ignore."
"You believe in this man?" Belster asked for the fourth time since they had begun this conversation.
"He could have killed me," Pony replied.
"And so he chose right in letting you go," Belster agreed, "but to his own gain, by my thinking."
"He gave me back the magical gemstones," Pony added, "every one."
Belster gave a great sigh and threw up his hands in defeat. He shook his head, but his smile widened, until at last he looked at Pony helplessly.
Only to find that she wasn't even looking at him, but rather past him, her expression worried. Belster turned back toward the door and saw a pair of soldiers entering - town guard and not the King's warriors who had been common, too common, in Palmaris of late. Belster noticed that one of them - a woman, an officer with fiery red hair - held Pony's attention.
"You know her?"
"We fought together in the northland," Pony replied softly. "Colleen Kilronney by name. I know her and she knows me."
"Your disguise is well done this night," Belster replied, trying to allay some of the panic he saw creeping over her. Both he and Pony knew his words for a lie, though, as Pony had come in only recently and, since Dainsey Aucomb was not in, it had been up to Belster to help with the fin-ishing touches.
Pony silently cursed her foolishness; she knew this predicament was no bit of bad luck but rather the result of a dangerous trend. As the situation had grown more critical in Palmaris, as Pony had become more and more involved in organizing resistance to De'Unnero, her attention to her own security had lessened. She had gotten careless and understood now, quite clearly, that such inattention could ruin everything.
She turned back to the bar and lowered her head as Colleen Kilronney and her companion approached and passed right by her, the woman war-rior pausing a moment to take a closer look, but then moving on.
"It might be better if you went out and took in a bit of the night air," Bel-ster whispered.
Pony glanced around doubtfully at the crowded room.
"I'll get Prim O'Bryen to help me," Belster said, referring to a regular customer, a money counter employed at Chasewind Manor. "He's run up a bill of near to forty gol' bears and will be happy for the chance to bring it down since De'Unnero has not been as generous as Baron Bildeborough. And Mallory's about, or soon to be."
His attempt at levity brought only a hint of a smile to Pony. She glanced around again, head low, then stood and turned abruptly toward the door - away from Colleen - and started off at a quick pace.
Her departure was not unnoticed, Belster realized as the red-haired woman got up from her chair and started off in Pony's wake. The innkeeper stood up to intercept her, smiling widely. "Good soldier, are you leaving already?" he asked, then turned to the bar. "Prim O'Bryen," he called, "you go back there and get a drink for the woman soldier, one of Palmaris' heroes!"
That brought a couple of cheers and lifted glasses from some folk nearby, but as Belster reached to put his arm around the woman, he saw that his diversion would not work. She slapped him away forcefully and pushed past him, her eyes on the door and the departing Pony.
Belster gave a sheepish grin at the woman soldier's companion. He thought briefly of going after the woman but realized that he would only be causing a disturbance that would bring even more unwanted attention. No, he decided, Pony was on her own. "Well go on back, Prim," he instructed loudly. "Certainly there is another in the Way this night deserving our drink."
"And too many for Belster to handle hisself," Prim O'Bryen commented, grudgingly crawling over the bar. "I'll be looking for some gol' bears off me tab."
Belster waved him the rest of the way over the bar, again trying hard to make as little commotion as possible. Despite his determination, he glanced toward the door more than once.
It was no accident or coincidence that brought Colleen Kilronney to the Way that night. The woman was no fool by anyone's measure, and she had always been among the most attentive of Baron Bildeborough's house guards. While Colleen had not been good friends with the Baron's nephew, Connor, she had seen him many times, including on his wedding day.
And she had seen his bride.
Something had struck Colleen as familiar when she had met the woman companion of the one called Nightbird, though Connor's wedding had been years before. At first Colleen had assumed Pony merely resembled Connor's bride, Jill, daughter of the former proprietors of the Fellow-ship Way.
As time passed, other clues had begun to fall into place for Colleen, par-ticularly the familiar-looking hilt of the sword Pony had carried belted at her hip. Colleen had hardly noticed it up north, but as she considered the meeting, replaying it in her keen mind, that sword hilt had become more and more tantalizing.
It resembled, to no small degree, the sword of Connor Bildeborough, a celebrated family weapon, Defender by name.
Now, in the Way, the resemblance between Belster's wife and the woman Pony was harder to dismiss. Though Belster's wife appeared older, the way she had moved belied that. She moved like a warrior, like the woman who had accompanied Nightbird, the woman who had resembled the wife of Connor Bildeborough.
Colleen stood in the street outside the Fellowship Way collecting her thoughts, putting all the clues together. All the area was quiet and dark, save one burning streetlamp and a pair of men sitting against the wall of the next building.
"A woman," Colleen asked of them, "a woman who came out of the Way - did ye see her?"
The two men shrugged and went on with their conversation.
It made no sense to Colleen; there was no way Belster's wife could have gotten that far ahead of her. She turned back toward the tavern door, won-dering if, perhaps, the woman had not really left the place. She even started that way but stopped then, remembering something else about Connor's wife, something she had once overheard. Connor had been talking to a friend, another of the Baron's house guards, when he had mentioned a spe-cial place that he had shared with his Jill, a quiet place within the city, yet removed from the city. .. .
Pony sat on the back roof of the Fellowship Way, staring up at the stars and wondering if Elbryan was looking at the same night sky. She missed her lover dearly, and had been looking forward to seeing him at their appointed rendezvous in early spring. Her belly would be thicker then - it already was starting to show, and so she would have to share her secret with him. The thought pleased her immensely, for she so wanted to share this with Elbryan. As she sat and watched the night sky, her fingers gently swirled about the sides of her belly, a truly comforting feeling, and she wanted Elbryan's hands there, too, wanted him touching their child, perhaps to feel its first movements.
But Pony knew in her heart that it would not be. The events in Palmaris had changed her plans, for she could not think of leaving the city at this critical time. Her duty was clear to her: to somehow bring together all the factions, even the Behrenese, who would oppose De'Unnero and the Church. Simply thinking of that duty replaced her feelings of content-ment with rage. Images of her dead - her murdered! - parents, their bloated bodies lifting up in demonic inspiration, assaulted her, pulled her hands up to cover her face. She would pay back the demons parading about as leaders of the Abellican Church, every one! She would take her vengeance all the way to the Father Abbot himself and make him answer for his crimes against Graevis and Pettibwa, against Grady and Connor. Shewould. . .
A great sadness washed over her then, an overwhelming despair, and she could not hold back the sobs.
Thus, she did not hear the approach as someone climbed up the gutter to the roof behind her.
The sadness passed quickly - Dainsey had warned her of these abrupt changes of mood in pregnancy - stolen by a renewed determination that she would find her revenge. She leaned back against the warm bricks of thechimney and studied the night sky once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Halo, hoping that its beauty alone would bring her back to a place of peace.
"A bit of a climb for the wife of Belster," came a voice behind her, freezing her, thought and body. She knew the voice all too well - and Pony was growing more than a little tired of people sneaking up on her!
"Not so much a lift," she replied, laying on a thick Palmaris street accent, a fair imitation of Pettibwa Chilichunk, she thought.
"Not for the companion o' Nightbird, no," said Colleen, "one who's somehow hurt her eye since I saw her last in the north."
Pony's heart sank. She slipped a hand into a pocket, where she held sev-eral gemstones, the deadly lodestone and graphite among them. Mustering her nerve, she turned and saw Colleen standing three feet away, hand resting on her sword hilt. Pony eyed her cautiously. She thought to stand up. If she could get on even footing with the soldier, she had little doubt that she could take her down, despite the fact that the larger woman had a weapon.
But as Pony moved as if to rise, Colleen edged closer, and her hand tight-ened about her sword.
Pony slipped back to an unthreatening posture. "No nightbirds about, by me own seein'," she replied, "but if ye've seen a few, might be that I've a bit of crumb for the tweeters."
"No nightbirds," Colleen replied firmly. "They'd be farther north, I'm thinkin', runnin', and not flyin', about the forest."
A long, uncomfortable moment slipped past.
"Ah, but I left me Belster all alone in the Way," Pony said. "He'll be a screamin' fool when I get back."
"Belster has help," Colleen replied, "as you arranged."
Pony painted a puzzled expression on her face, but she was beginning to understand from the woman's ready posture that the masquerade was at its end. She clenched the magnetite, knowing that with a thought she could drive it through the woman's metal breastplate, but then she moved her fin-gers to the graphite instead, settling on the notion of a stunning, hopefully nonfatal, lightning blast.
"Enough useless banter," Colleen declared. "I know who ye are, Pony friend o' Nightbird, Jill wife o' Connor. I'm not a fool, and I have heard enough and seen enough to know ye."
Pony started to protest but stopped short, pulling her hand from her pocket and holding it extended in Colleen's direction. "Have you, then?" she asked, dropping the put-on accent. "And do you know enough of me to understand that I can take your life with but a thought? "
That set Colleen back on her heels, but only for a moment. She was a warrior, battle hardened, and with a well-earned reputation for fearlessness. "Truly ye're the rogue that De'Unnero painted ye to be," she spat back.
But Pony caught an inflection in Colleen's voice, less than complimen-tary, as she pronounced the name of the bishop.
"You mean Bishop De'Unnero," Pony goaded, "the rightful, lawful ruler of Palmaris."
Colleen did not reply, but her sour expression spoke volumes.
"Are we to fight, then?" Pony asked bluntly. "And am I to use magic and destroy you, or would you prefer it, would you think it more fair, if I went and retrieved my sword?"
"Connor's sword, ye mean."
Her perceptiveness surprised Pony, but it did not put her off her guard. " 'Twas Connor's," she admitted, "until emissaries of the Church murdered him and his uncle."
Colleen's eyes widened.
"And the abbot," Pony pressed, spitting every word. "Do you believe that a powrie did it? A wretched little dwarf walked into Palmaris, into St. Precious itself, and killed the great man?"
"Ye're knowin' this to be true?"
"As Connor told it to me, when he came north to find me, when he learned that I was next targeted by the Abellican Church."
Colleen stood very still, and it seemed to Pony that she was not even breathing.
Pony lowered her hand, dropping the gemstone into her pocket. "Not a fair fight if I use the magic that was taught to me by a true man of God," she said. "Let me get my sword then, Colleen Kilronney, and I will happily give you a lesson you shall not soon forget!"
Colleen's pride alone forced her to square her shoulders at the open, brazen challenge. She did not hold the pose for long, though, too curious about this woman's surprising words and nerve.
"Though I wish you'd stand down," Pony conceded, "for I am not con-vinced that we two are on opposing sides."
"Then what're we to be doin' about it?" Colleen asked.
Pony considered the words for a long while. What indeed? The outline of a plan was taking shape in her mind, a coalition involving Belster's underground network, the persecuted Behrenese, and now Colleen and whatever other soldiers - and Pony guessed that there might be more than a few - they might find who would stand, at least quietly, against the wicked Bishop. But she wasn't ready to share that plan, wasn't ready to trust in this soldier with information concerning her comrades just yet.
"You come back to the Way in three days' time," she offered. "We shall speak again."
"Where's yer Nightbird friend?" Colleen asked abruptly.
Pony eyed her curiously, suspecting a trap.
"Don't ye answer, then," Colleen offered. "If he's come to Palmaris with ye, then keep him low and safe, because De'Unnero's onto his game. And if he's in the north, still, as we've heard, then ye get a runner to him, for Shamus is back out on the northern road. And though he's sayin' that he's comin' to help, he's really going to put a watch on yer friend, to ready Nightbird for De'Unnero's takin'."
The blunt offer of such valuable information put Pony back a step, and she merely nodded dumbly as she tried to digest it all.
"I'll get me friend and be on me way," Colleen said, turning for the gutter and going over the edge of the roof without hesitation. "Three days," she confirmed, looking up only once at Pony and then moving swiftly down to the alley.
Pony held her ground and her pose for a moment longer, then turned back toward the night sky, seeking that elusive glimpse of Corona's heav-enly ring.
She gave up at once, though, for she knew that she would find no peace this night.
The fires in the Way had burned to embers, the orange-glowing eyes the only watchful patrons as the hours of darkness turned toward dawn. On the street outside, three drunken men, including a satisfied Prim O'Bryen and Heathcomb Mallory, slept soundly, and a dozen more occupied the inn rooms upstairs, while Dainsey and a suitor had at last settled down in one quiet room in the proprietor's wing, Belster snoring contentedly in another. And in the third bedroom of that first-level wing, sat Pony, comfortable on her bed, wearing a soft nightshirt, a soul stone in hand.
Shamus Kilronney was on his way to find Elbryan, and her lover would not suspect that the man was an agent of Bishop De'Unnero.
Pony trusted Elbryan and reminded herself repeatedly that he had pow-erful allies, Bradwarden and Juraviel, by his side. Still, if he was caught unaware . . .
Pony sighed deeply and looked down at the gray stone, a darker spot on her pale hand in the moonlight shining through her window. She had chosen to come to Palmaris, had followed the course determined by her need for vengeance, and now she was not so certain that she had chosen rightly. She had known that her road would be dangerous - that Elbryan's would be, as well - but suddenly that danger seemed closer and more threatening. Suddenly Elbryan seemed to be in trouble, and she was too far away to do anything about it.
Or was she?
She continued to stare at the soul stone, wondering what help it might offer. She didn't need to remind herself of the danger of using the stone, any stone, in this city, with De'Unnero's magic-sniffing hounds patrolling the streets. But still, after her conversation with Colleen, after learning the truth, could she possibly sit quietly and hope that Elbryan would survive?
But there was something else, some fear buried deep in Pony's mind.
What other wonders might a journey to the realm of the spirit show her? What other truths to shatter denial? She couldn't think about that now, not with danger closing in on her friends in the north.
She fell into the stone, heart and soul, her spirit sinking deep into its inviting depths. She felt a strange energy in that spiritual state, separate, yet joined. Pony understood, but abruptly turned away from it, and focused outward. In a moment, she was walking free of her corporeal form, sliding quickly through the outer wall of the inn and off into the night along the quiet streets of Palmaris, through the city's northern gate, where the guards gamed with bones, keeping only a halfhearted watch to the empty north road. Then past the darkened farmhouses she went, and along the road. With a thought, she outpaced the swiftest bird, the strongest wind. She passed through Caer Tinella at a dizzying pace, slowing only to seek any signs of Elbryan or Shamus. But no, they were not there - too many were missing, including the wagons that had been procured for the Timberlands caravan. They had already set off, heading farther north. North, too, went Pony, soaring down the road, hardly registering the blurred landscape until she came into regions more familiar, into the land of her birth.
Then her spirit was walking more slowly once more, for though she understood the importance of finding Elbryan quickly and ceasing to use the telltale gems, she could not resist the images of her home: the north slope leading out of Dundalis, the pine and caribou-moss valley beyond.
Shamus Kilronney and his soldiers were in town, she observed at once, noting the military-style encampment at the western edge of the main group. Pony went to the soldiers and through their barracks, and was relieved to find that Elbryan was not in their midst. Relief quickly turned to desperation as she searched the rest of the town and found no sign of her lover, leaving her spirit standing alone, pondering the enormity of her task, in the middle of the village square. He could be anywhere, she understood, and though she could move with the speed of a moonbeam, Elbryan - Nightbird - in the forest would not be easy to find.
Pony forced herself to remain calm, cleared her thoughts of all distrac-tions, and turned her senses to the quiet night.
And there, drifting on the breeze, came her answer, a familiar piping melody, the song of Bradwarden.
She found the centaur moments later, standing solitary on a round-topped bluff, piping his mournful song. She thought to go to him, to try somehow to communicate with him, that he might guide her to Elbryan, but then she spotted Symphony at the bottom of that hillock, standing qui-etly as if mesmerized by the centaur's song. On a low branch near the mag-nificent horse rested a familiar saddle.
She heard the great horse nicker softly as she glided past, but her senses caught something else, something even more familiar, something warm and wonderful.
She felt her lover keenly, as if she and Elbryan were somehow spiritually joined. She knew exactly where he was as surely as if he were standing and calling her.
Secure, no doubt, in the knowledge that Symphony and Bradwarden were nearby, the ranger lay deep in peaceful sleep on a raised bed of hay and blankets, heated stones underneath him. He had both of his weapons, Tempest and Hawkwing, lying beside him, ready to grab.
Despite her urgency, Pony paused to soak in that sight and again doubted her choices. How could she have kept the child secret from this man? And how could she have left him?
Because her outrage had gotten the better of her, she had to admit; and truly, she felt as if she had failed at that moment. A desire to rush back to Palmaris, to run to the stables and retrieve Greystone, then ride as fast and hard to the north as possible, nearly overwhelmed her, nearly launched her spirit on its way. But she could not do that, not now. She had chosen, per-haps badly, but that choice had led to new circumstances and responsibili-ties. She could not abandon Palmaris now any more than Elbryan could go there.
But what of the child? Oh, but she wanted to tell him then! And oh, how she wanted to feel his gentle fingers massaging her swelling belly!
Pony spent a long moment composing herself, finding her center of reason and duty. She stared long and hard at Elbryan for a moment longer, not quite understanding what she should do - or even what she could do. But then the magic of the soul stone came clearer to her; and with a thought, she soared down at her lover,into her lover, joining him in his dreams.
Elbryan awoke in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright, alert that something might be lurking nearby.
The moon, Sheila, was low in the western sky. Bradwarden had stopped his piping, but Symphony stood nearby, calm; that alone told the ranger that no enemies were near.
But something, someone, had been there, he knew, though it was all a mix of dream and consciousness. Several deep breaths steadied him, and he put his head down in his hands and thought hard.
And then he knew. Somehow, through some magic, Pony had come to him.
Pony! The mere thought of her sent shivers along his spine and pangs of emptiness through his heart. But it had been Pony, of that he was suddenly sure; and she was all right. She was safe in Palmaris.
But there she had to stay, and there, he could not go; that, too, came clear and unmistakable. Their planned early spring meeting was no more, for Palmaris was in turmoil and Pony could not abandon the folk in need. Nor could he go there, nor should he go there, for ...
Something else tugged at the ranger's consciousness, some warning that he felt he should heed. But he could not, not then, for the thought of Pony, the image of Pony, the regret at being away from Pony, was too consuming, too engulfing. So he sat in the quiet, dark forest as the minutes turned to an hour, thinking of her, remembering her embrace and her kiss, the taste of her neck, the depth of her eyes.
He could only hope that their paths would soon cross, that duty, painful duty, would not keep them apart for long.
Those same regrets followed Pony as her spirit swept back into Palmaris, as she moved down the still-quiet streets and back into the dark common room of the Fellowship Way. She went straight for her door, thinking that it was long past time she reentered her corporeal form and dismissed the magical energies, but as she glided along the hallway, she paused, hearing, sensing, some tumult beyond another door. Hardly thinking, Pony slipped through that wall into Dainsey's room.
The woman and her companion twined and groaned, caught in the pas-sion of lovemaking.
An embarrassed Pony retreated at once, but stopped, mesmerized, because the energy, the heat, of Dainsey and the man, brought back to her memories of Elbryan's embrace, when they broke their vow of celibacy when they thought the world was safe once more.
To the conception of their child.
It had been such a beautiful thing, a moment of purest ecstasy, of com-pleteness and security.
But maybe it had been no more than this. Maybe it had been the fulfill-ment of something more base, a physical need. And succumbing to that need had led to ...
To what? Pony had to ask herself honestly; and the answer that screamed back at her caught her completely off guard.
It had led to a complication. A dangerous complication.
Pony's spirit soared from the room and back toward her waiting form. She approached with all speed, thinking to fall into the material world and out of the gemstone magic abruptly, without time to think or to see.
But she sensed that other presence, that spirit within her physical being.
She tried to hurry, but she could not avoid a brush with that life!
Barely a second passed before her body shuddered back to conscious-ness, but it was a second too long for Pony. She knew now, beyond all doubt. She had a child within her, a living creature, forming, growing, and growing strong. Of course she had known for some time that she was preg-nant, but the word had meant little to her. When she had told Juraviel that perhaps she would not be able to see the child through to term, she had been serious. Somewhere deep in her mind, she had figured that the child would be stillborn or miscarried, for the notion that this was real, that she was to be a mother, seemed unlikely, even seemed impossible.
But now she knew. This was real; the child - her child, Elbryan's child -  was alive.
Tears soaked her cheeks and streamed from her eyes. She felt all alone and out of control. Her hand went to her belly, but found no comfort there, found only vulnerability.
"Damn you," Pony growled into the darkness, cursing herself. Without even consciously registering the move, she got up and started pacing the floor. "Damn you!" she said again, fists clenched at her sides.
Why hadn't she waited? Why had she seduced Elbryan, practically forcing him to make love to her, with such potential for disaster?
Pony growled and slapped a plate from her night table, hardly noticing that it crashed to the floor.
"What fool am I to have done this?" she asked aloud. Again her hand was on her belly, but it wasn't massaging gently, but rather clenching the skin. "All the world is in peril, and in the name and memory of Avelyn, I am charged with the fight. And yet, how can I? What warrior am I with this in my belly? "
Again she reached toward the table, this time to seize its top, thinking to pick it up and hurl it at the wall through the window. But she stopped, for she realized only then how loud she had been. And then she heard the shuf-fling footsteps coming down the hall, then a soft knock, and the door creaked open. A frightened Dainsey Aucomb stood in her doorway, staring wide-eyed at her.
"Are ye feeling ill, Miss Pony?" the woman asked sheepishly.
Pony relaxed her grip, too embarrassed to continue her tantrum, but still deep in the throes of anger and regret. She straightened and turned, facing Dainsey.
"Can I be getting ye something to calm ye?" Dainsey offered.
"I am with child," Pony stated flatly.
"Well, that much I been knowin' for some time," replied Dainsey.
Pony snorted derisively. "Have you?" she asked with open sarcasm. "You have known the simple truth, that Pony is pregnant, but do you have any idea of what that really means?"
"I'm thinkin' that it means ye'll be hatchin' a baby in a few months' time," Dainsey said with a hopeful chuckle. "The sixth month o' the year, by me guess, or it might be the end o' the fifth."
A flick of Pony's arm sent the table toppling to the floor and Dainsey jumped back.
"It means that you have lost an important ally in this critical war," Pony growled at her. "It means that when all Palmaris roils with revolution, should it come to pass, Pony will roil with the pangs of childbirth."
Pony's visage softened, and she looked down and added quietly, "It means that I have failed."
"Miss Pony!" Dainsey said, stamping her bare foot on the wooden floor.
"How foolish I have been," said Pony.
"How foolish ye're bein', ye mean!" Dainsey snapped. "Are ye regrettin' the child in yer belly, then?"
Pony didn't answer, but her expression was all the confirmation Dainsey needed.
"But ye're makin' a mistake," Dainsey dared to say, advancing a cautious step. "Ye must not be thinkin' ill o' the child in yer belly. No, never that, for he knows, Miss Pony. He'll hear yer thoughts, don't ye doubt, and then - "
"Shut your mouth!" Pony snapped at her, coming forward a step.
Dainsey started to retreat, but she stopped abruptly and straightened defiantly. "But I'll not," she stated firmly. "Ye're missin' yer lover, and scared for him and for yer child, but ye're bein' the fool, and no friend am I if I'm not tellin' ye so!"
Even as she finished, Pony was on her, pushing her toward the door. Dainsey tried to resist, but Pony soon had her out in the hallway. Dain-sey recovered quickly and tried to go back, but Pony slammed the door in her face.
Stubborn Dainsey banged on the wood. "Ye hear me, Miss Pony!" she said. "Ye hear me well. Ye feel that life inside ye and know that it, and not this stupid fight, is where's yer most important duty. Ye find yer heart..." With one last frustrated knock on the door, she retreated down the hall.
Pony was back on her bed, wet face buried in her hands. All her life seemed confusion and tumult. She wanted Elbryan to be there, to hold her. And she wanted to not be pregnant.
The realization of that last thought, hearing the actual words in her mind, brought her up straight, eyes wide, hardly realizing that she was gasping for breath.
"By God," she muttered, and her hands went frantically to her belly, stroking emphatically, trying to take it back, all of it, trying to assure this living child inside her that she did not mean such a thing.
The door to her room pushed open and Dainsey stood there, looking at her.
"Miss Pony?" the woman asked gently.
Pony swooned and nearly toppled, but Dainsey had her, hugging her close, whispering in her ear that everything would be all right.
Pony only wished that she could believe those words.