New Arrivals
Summer Solstice, 2008
She was dreaming again.
Originally, Marina had planned to stay in Munich, sorting out her affairs there, until the twins were born, giving them the German citizenship that her father would no doubt have preferred. Then, and only then, was she going to move to England, so we could bring the children up together. But that had changed in the last month, after she'd started to have the dreams. From what she'd said, she woke up shaking most nights, as if she'd had a nightmare, but she could never remember what had made her so afraid.
Of course, dreams are important in my tradition, and realising this, she'd eventually told me what was happening. Her most recent check-up hadn't showed anything medically wrong, but the dreams had continued and in the end she agreed that if there was some kind of threat in them, she might be safer at Wittersham House. At least within its wards, she would be protected from outside influences. So she'd arranged with her paper that she would become its British correspondent, sold the flat in Munich, and moved in with me.
But since her arrival, the dreams had continued, implying that either the threat wasn't external, or it was more powerful than my wards and defences could counter, which was worrying in itself. Warding is something I do bloody well, even if I do say it myself. Concerned - and admittedly somewhat frightened, both for her and the twins - I eventually persuaded her to let me form a psychic link with her one night, in the hope that I could see what it was that was troubling her. And so, one night as she slept, I kept a watchful guard.
The first sign of whatever it was, was when she started whimpering in her sleep. Then she began to tremble. I laid a hand on her shoulder and let myself gently into her head, at which point I began to experience impressions from her. Impressions of something huge, powerful and somehow fundamental. But even awake and watching as an outsider, I found it impossible to understand what it was she was seeing; what she was experiencing. It wasn't threatening, exactly, although there is always the potential for a threat with something as powerful as whatever the Hell it was seemed to be invading her sleep. It was more as if my mind couldn't comprehend enough dimensions to make sense of it.
I extended my will to her, to try to calm her, but it was still several minutes before she began to relax again. Still, at least this time she didn't wake up crying, which was an improvement on the night before. That was the point at which I realised that it was more important that I stay awake at night and help her, than to let her face this alone. Otherwise her own health and that of the twins was going to suffer.
I'd been considering running Tenterden fast for a while, to catch up with the seasons in Amber - and my own students, who I'd been sorely neglecting. Perhaps this was the time to do it. Not having to be Mayor for a few months (calculated to be just a couple of days by Amber's clock) would allow me to sleep during the day, so I could stay awake with Marina and ease her through the night.
Moreover, I knew Armand would probably appreciate some extra time relative to his other interests, so he could work on the Hawke Security project, as well as train for Vienna with the German Olympic foil and sabre teams. And as for Wolf, his new duties were keeping him in Amber more, but he had commented to me over a beer that he would appreciate some favourable time at home to be with Soren - now a strapping eleven year old, and looking likely to top both his father and me by the time he stopped growing - before he went off to boarding school in September. He also mentioned that he was going to try to talk Dieter into letting Blaine stay on Tenterden for a bit, so they didn't get too far out of sync age-wise.
He commented that there was something that he wanted to work in the background as well; something which had spawned out of a conversation he'd had with Dieter. He hadn't gone into too many details on the latter, but reading between the lines, it sounded as if his other grandfather had told him something about another of his sons, and he wanted to look into it further.
So the following morning, I let them know what I had decided, and as neither they, nor Marina objected, I gave Wolf time to set things up with Dieter, and then set about speeding things up.
I soon got into the new routine, staying awake and linked to her during the night; sleeping from about six in the morning for a few hours; then going into KCL after lunch to take my various lectures and tutor groups. Most evenings, Marina and I would spend together - eating, or going out, or whatever took our fancy. Sometimes Armand or Wolf joined us, but mostly it was just us. A couple of times a week, I also tested my wings as I got used to the sparrowhawk ring, and flight was beginning to feel more natural. However, I put my regular rotation at the Medical Centre A&E department on hold until the twins were safely born: having their doctor short on sleep never helped any patient.
The Group had planned to meet at Wittersham House for Summer Solstice. Armand was due to be formally initiated into our company at our regular meeting, after his somewhat ad hoc apprenticeship with his father (and me when I had the time to teach him) and doing so at my family home seemed appropriate. It was a few years since we'd had a new initiate into the Group - the last had been Alex Franklin in Summer 2002 - and it was always a cause for celebration.
My own status was still a little clouded after the Germania working, although I hoped that by Winter Solstice, I would be accepted back into my former position as Man in Black. I certainly knew that Adam Sinclair had spoken to Alison, our Priestess, on my behalf. However, for Armand's initiation, the Group had agreed wholeheartedly that Wolf should be our Man in Black for the evening. So given my own troubles and concerns, I let him and Alison make the preparations, leaving me to concentrate on looking after my wife.
Wolf arranged for Soren - he still hadn't got complete agreement from Dieter on whether Blaine could spend any of the summer with him - to stay with a friend on the evening of the 20th, but Marina joined us as we gathered before the ceremonies. After all, these were people Wolf and I had been close to for a long time, and I knew that they would extend their welcome to her, even if she was unlikely to ever become one of them. Because that's what family do, and the Group had been my family for far longer than the Amberites had. She seemed tired, but in reasonably good form, as if the cares of the night had been temporarily laid aside.
Armand, on the other hand, was unusually quiet, but that was understandable: I remembered the day that I was initiated, so long ago, and what it had meant to me. At least I could now remember Audrey without pain...just with happiness for the good times...and she was so very fundamental to how I became part of the Group, that I couldn't help thinking of her. At around seven-thirty, Wolf took his son upstairs, so that he could bathe and prepare himself, leaving the rest of us chatting until they gave us the signal that it was time. The Solstice itself would be around one in the morning, and I felt certain that Alison and Wolf would have figured that into their timing for the evening.
We took a light supper, and then, at around ten, Priest and Priestess headed out to the gazebo in the mock ruin to get everything ready, while we stayed behind to robe. I had agreed to walk out with Armand, so I could present him to the Group. We followed them about twenty minutes later, leaving Marina reading quietly in the library, and planning to go to bed fairly shortly.
As we entered the ruins and headed for the gazebo, I glanced over at the beds I had been digging - with the help of Clifford, the gardener - at one end, near the formerly dead stick Dara had given me, which I now mentally thought of as my Oaklet.. The number of seriously non-native plants in them had increased over the last few months, as myself, Wolf, Armand and even Artur, had discovered useful bits and pieces around Shadow and brought them home, and I had explored the odd ability with plants that had first manifested when I was looking for the cure to the poison which had felled Dieter during the coup. The little tree itself was in leaf, now, and was almost identifiable as some kind of oak. Reminiscent, if anything, of the trees in the ancient groves which the druids had cultivated, or the sacred oaks at the Greek shrine of Dodona, and crying out for a mistletoe graft once I was confident it was strong enough that it wouldn't suffer from one.
At my side, Armand seemed composed and collected, if nervous, and I gave him an encouraging smile as he and I were the last to approach the gazebo. He had been coached in the ritual words of entry, and pronounced them clearly, before he, and finally myself, were admitted to the company. Then Wolf sealed the doorway with the ceremonial broadsword the Group uses for such things. Once we were secure, I stripped off my robe, as the others had done, and took up position beside the entrance way while they began the ceremony.
I let myself drift into a light trance, following the familiar words, but as the time came to take my grandson's measure, I began to feel uneasy. It wasn't anything to do with the ceremony, that I was certain of, but something was beginning to gnaw at me. Soon I was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Something was very wrong; something external to the Working space. I glanced about me, and through the glassy silver of the wards around the gazebo, I realised that I could see a figure, a little way off, waiting patiently.
From a ritual perspective, it was a safe enough point to step out. I pulled my robe back on, then quickly opened the ward and stepped through, confident that one of the others would reseal the circle once I was gone. Once outside, the feeling that something was wrong hit me more strongly, as if, bad as it had been inside the gazebo, the effect had been muted by the wards.
Which, of course, is as it should have been.
I looked for the figure, and to my surprise I spotted Carmichael, waiting patiently a short way away. Working for me and mine for so long, he had a more than passing familiarity with what went on in the ruin, and had even seen Wolf and I Working on occasion. But in all the years I'd known him, he'd never disturbed the Group during our ceremonies.
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir..." he began apologetically, and I could see that he was trying to mask an unusual degree of concern, "but the Mistress is unwell...I thought I'd better come and find you."
I went pale as he spoke, as I ran through in my head everything that could have gone wrong. And yet she'd seemed fine just a couple of hours before...
"You did the right thing," I answered, and fell into step beside him, trying to ground myself as we walked, and stop myself from sprinting back to the house.
We walked briskly but in silence, and once we were inside, he directed me to the master bedroom. I sprinted up the stairs - not the easiest of things to do in a ceremonial robe - to find her lying on the bed. She looked pale and was sweating, and every so often she would moan in pain. I quickly dressed in something more practical, and then sat down on the bed beside her, stroking her forehead and feeling how warm it was.
Something was very wrong.
"I've taken the liberty of calling an ambulance, sir," Carmichael said, coming into the room with a basin and some clean cloths, with which I started trying to cool her forehead.
"Efficient as always, thank you."
"I'm sorry. I know you wanted to be with Master Wolf and Master Armand this evening..."
"There's nothing to apologise for," I answered, "just let me know when the ambulance arrives."
"Of course, Sir."
He stepped out quietly, while I stayed beside Marina. My best guess was that the ambulance would most likely be coming from Tenterden, and would probably take about twenty minutes to get here. My wife was semi-conscious at best, so I tried to combine bathing her forehead to cool her, and soothing her using arcane means. I conjured up a pain-relief spell, which seemed to help for a while, but by the time Carmichael showed up with the ambulance crew (I hadn't even heard them approach), I had fallen back onto my medical training to avoid panicking that she'd started to bleed.
They quickly got her onto a gurney, and I went downstairs with them, and sat in the back beside her, firmly ignoring all suggestions that I should follow the ambulance in a car. Then I took her hand, slipped into a light trance, and began sending healing vibes to her, in the hope that I could keep her stable long enough for her to get to the hospital.
It was one of the longest twenty minutes of my life.
She was taken inside as soon as we arrived, and I followed the gurney for as long as I could. But at the operating room door, the doctor - thankfully not Dr Haley, as I wasn't up to dealing with her just then - barred my entrance. The still-rational part of me knew that that was a very sensible decision, despite the fact that I was qualified to be in the theatre, and even managed to explain that she was a universal recipient if a blood transfusion was needed. The desperate husband in me raged at him, and in the end I had to be walked away to a waiting area by an orderly, to stop me from doing something stupid. Defeated, I slumped down on one of the chairs, knowing there was nothing that I could do, but wait.
Minutes passed. Hours passed. I sat, and paced, and filled my gut with bad hospital coffee until I was buzzing. I wondered about trying to sleep, but knew that there was no way I'd manage it. And finally, at about eight in the morning, the doctor who had barred my way into the operating theatre came into the waiting room. He looked tired, but at least he'd stripped off what was probably a very bloody white coat.
"Sir Ian?"
Gods, how long had it been since anyone had called me that? And yet, technically, it was my Tenterden rank. Ian Hawke, Baronet.
"How is she?"
"They're out of surgery, and they're all alive."
That didn't seem like the most confidence-inspiring assessment, until I processed what he'd said.
"They?"
"Your wife's body had started to reject one or both of the foetuses. So for the safety of all three of them, we had to do an emergency C-section."
"Everything was fine at her last check-up...any idea what went wrong?"
"Not yet...we'll need to do some tests."
"Will they be alright?"
"All the indications are that your wife should be fine, given time. But this has obviously taken a lot out of her, and I can't tell at this time if there's been any permanent damage. And I'm hopeful for the twins: I'm guessing they're somewhere between a month and six weeks early...?"
I supposed her records were still en route from Munich, so he wouldn't have her full medical history to access, just the most recent check-up. So I nodded, and made a mental note that we would need to chase them up.
"So they're a little on the small side. They both seem to be well-developed...however, given that we still aren't sure what caused the crisis, we're going to keep them here until we're sure there are no underlying problems."
"Can I see her? them?"
"Her Ladyship is sedated, and I'd like to keep her that way for a few hours. But the twins are in the nursery. I can take you to them if you'd like."
"Thank you," I answered, nervous as Hell about why he wanted to keep me away from Marina, "I don't even know what they are...the scans never showed..."
"A boy and girl," he said, indicating for me to walk beside him, as he showed me the way, "we had to deliver your daughter first, as she seemed to be in the most distress."
"A daughter?" I found myself smiling, despite everything. "I've never had a daughter before."
He looked at me and gave me the knowing smile of someone who knew just how much trouble that was likely to be in about sixteen years' time. But he wisely said nothing. Instead, he led me down a floor, and along a corridor to where there was a large glass window, looking into a room full of cots. About half of them were occupied, although I seemed to be the only new father out in the corridor.
"I'll get the nurses to bring them over so you can see them," he said, and ducked inside, leaving me waiting.
Inside, I saw him talking to the formidable looking sister who seemed to be in charge of the nursery, and a short while later, she and one of her minions wheeled a couple of the cots forward to where I could see them. Inevitably, one of the occupants was wrapped in pink, and the other in blue. My new son was noticeably bigger, and had a fine covering of downy white fluff on his head. My little daughter seemed tiny by comparison, and sported a shock of thick red hair.
I tried to reach out my magical senses towards them, and very much to my surprise, bounced off some kind of defence: a ward...but not a ward. And they both had it. Startled - which was obviously apparent in my face, from the strange expression the sister gave me - I tried to analyse it, and came to the conclusion that it was some kind of Pattern defence. Wolf had been right in his guesses, over that bottle of port a few months ago. Both of them had been born initiates of the Sign of Order.
Stranger still, I was left with the distinct impression that the two little forms I could see before me were how they chose to appear, and that underneath, they could have been anything they wanted. Which made no sense given that they were both just a few hours old.
"Is something wrong, Sir Ian?" the doctor asked, rejoining me outside.
"Am I allowed to hold them?"
"Not yet...not until we're sure they're both alright, and that there aren't any complications. And there's always the risk of infection with new-borns..."
"Of course...I understand," I answered, disappointed, but knowing he was right.
I extended a hand and rested it on the glass, mentally reaching out towards them again, more cautiously this time, and to my surprise I saw my daughter's eyes open. Then she stretched her arms towards me, and that was when I saw that her eyes were a beautiful deep green, rather than the usual blue of a new-born. It took a moment or two to sink in that they were focused on me. Not vaguely looking in my direction. Actually focused. Surprised, but trying to hide it, I smiled at her, and saw her laugh in return, before she closed her eyes again, and seemed to go straight back to sleep.
I glanced over at the doctor, who was doing a reasonable job of covering his reaction to what she'd just done.
"Is that normal?" I asked, trying to remember anything from my brief rotation in paediatrics, when I was training, "for her to be aware that I'm here?"
"No two children are exactly alike," he answered, his tone neutral, but he couldn't hide the fact that his eyes were telling me he thought that it was very odd indeed.
I looked back at them, waved like a goofball, and then the nurses moved the cots away.
"I'd like to see my wife now."
"As I said, I'd rather she stayed sedated for now," he answered.
"I know. But I'd still like to see her."
"This way."
He led me down another floor to a private room, and I followed him inside. Marina was asleep on the bed, curled over on one side, and she looked pale and weak. Her cheeks were sunken, and she seemed to have aged in the few hours since I'd seen her - or perhaps it just seemed that way, as I'd never seen her looking so vulnerable. However, the monitors were beeping regularly, and when I checked the clipboard at the bottom of the bed, the notes mostly tied up with what he'd told me. Although I felt that something was missing.
"How close was it?" I asked, finally.
"Sir Ian?"
"You heard me. How close did she come to dying?"
He looked at me, obviously weighing up his answer, before saying anything.
"Closer than I would have liked. Her heartbeat was irregular when she arrived, and she arrested for a short while during the operation. We had to bring her back."
"And the twins?"
"They should have been unaffected. Your daughter had been delivered by then, and your son's heart was beating independently. But it's another reason why we want to keep them under observation."
"Can I stay with her for a while?"
"As long as you don't try to wake her up. She needs rest."
"My word on it."
He paused for a moment, then nodded and turned and went out, leaving me alone with Marina. I pulled up a chair and sat down beside her, then took her hand in mine. However, despite my intention to watch over her, a few minutes later, I was asleep.
"Mihai...?" came a familiar voice from the doorway, some indeterminate time later, which dragged me back to consciousness.
I looked up, sleepily, and recognised Wolf, leaning against the door jamb. About the same time, I realised that I had the crick from Hell in my neck from the stupid position I'd been sleeping in.
"What time is it?" I asked, blearily.
"About two in the afternoon...have you eaten today?"
"Not since last night," I answered, and almost on cue, I heard my stomach betray its feelings on the matter.
I glanced at Marina, to see if there was any change. She was still out cold, but her colour was better, her cheeks looked less sunken, and my gut feeling was that she was sleeping naturally now, rather than drugged. I reached out and stroked her cheek, then turned back to my son.
"I'm sorry I had to duck out of the ceremony. I tried to do it safely..."
"It was fine," he answered, pulling up a second chair, "you had other things to worry about."
"Is Armand okay?"
"He was still sleeping when I left," he said "you know how psychically exhausting initiation is."
"Aye, that I do. He'll probably be groggy for a couple of days. Did everything go according to plan?"
"Exactly as it should have done," he answered, "unlike the bloody Pattern."
"I'm glad. He's a good lad."
"Yes he is," came the proud reply, and for once Wolf didn't try to hide how much he loved his son, "Carmichael explained what had happened when we got back to the house, but I thought it was best to get some rest myself before coming to bother you. Is Marina okay?"
"I don't know. She hasn't woken up yet. But she's looking better than she did when I got here."
"Dare I ask about the twins?" he asked, cautiously, as if afraid of bad news. Which I suppose was a valid enough fear, given what Carmichael must have told him.
"A girl and a boy. She's older. I've only seen them through the nursery window so far, though they seem in a better state than Marina does. But then, I imagine carrying a pair of Pattern initiates is going to knock the crap out of you."
"So that's definite, is it?"
"Oh yes. They already have a Pattern defence of sorts."
"Is that why she was having the dreams?"
"I don't know...but I have to wonder. The power it gives you would certainly come across as awe-inspiring, fundamental and unknowable, if you don't realise that's what it was. Hell, even if you did. And how could they have known, tucked away inside her with no frame of reference? So if she was somehow dreaming their dreams..."
"God help you when they begin to crawl," he said, and I saw a half smile on his lips.
"That's a while away. First I want to make sure she's okay."
"She's Family, and she almost certainly has the shifting gene, even if it isn't active...Dieter certainly has...which should help over and above the usual Family vitality. Just give her a bit of time, and she'll be fine."
"I hope you're right."
I reached out to touch her again.
"The timing is curious, though," he mused.
"In what way?"
"Midsummer's Day? And the crisis came when their father was involved in a major Working? After all, initiations can throw off a lot of energy."
"The wards around the gazebo should have blocked that."
"Maybe...but then again, they were also conceived around a major Working, and it's very possible that they have more than the usual sensitivity to such things."
"Given that this is blue-sky territory, I guess I can't discount anything just yet."
"Maybe Fiona would have some ideas?"
"Probably...but I'm not sure I want to trust her with the knowledge that there are a pair of hours-old Pattern initiates on Tenterden. I think the temptation to visit might be too much for her."
"She's okay," he answered, almost defensively, "I've seen quite a bit of her lately. In and among everything else I've been doing in Amber, she's been teaching me a few bits and pieces."
"What sort of bits and pieces?" I asked, looking at him, curious.
"Mainly Pattern stuff," he answered, "I figured that Rambault might not be the only one who thought I was a snot-nosed kid because I'm a generation lower than the rest of you. So it seemed sensible to be as prepared as I could be for when the attacks start coming."
"Do you think they will?"
"God knows," he answered, "had you still been Crown Prince, maybe not...but I'm only Bleys's grandson, which makes my position weaker than yours."
"You're still have a lot of years on most of them."
"But age isn't important...distance from Oberon is," he said with a shrug.
"If anyone moves against you, they'll have me to deal with."
"I know...but I still wanted to be prepared."
I couldn't argue with his logic, and not for the first time, I wondered if I'd really had the right to effectively dump the position of Heir Presumptive on his head. Maybe I should have stuck it out, if only for his sake? Because gods knew he was an unwilling Amberite at best, even if he was throwing himself into his new responsibilities with his usual dedication to duty.
But of course, that horse had long bolted the stable.
"So do they have names yet?" he said, noting my silence, and adroitly changing the subject.
"The twins? No. We have a few ideas, but we weren't sure what sex they were, so we hadn't fixed on anything."
"But you must have a preference?"
"I like Rowan for my little girl..."
I paused as I saw the amused expression on his face...but then, in Michel he'd had his own little girl to dote upon.
"Don't look so superior, Grandpa Wolf," I scolded, half-jokingly.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Daddy Mihai," he answered, almost managing to keep a straight face, "but just you wait until she starts dating."
"Gods forbid," I said, my tone heartfelt.
"What about my new brother?"
"I was wondering about Linden."
"You're back to Unter den Linden again, aren't you?" he said, with a chuckle.
"Maybe...but I still think it sounds okay. Possibly with Adam for a middle name..."
"To placate your father? Or for Adam Sinclair?"
"Why can't it be both? It's a good strong name."
"True enough. So Linden Adam Hawke...Linden Adam Cushing...even Linden Adam Helgram...okay, maybe he won't grow up hating you for it."
"And it has enough of a German feel to it that Marina - and hopefully Dieter - should be okay with it."
"And why Rowan? Which is very un-Germanic."
"It seems to fit with our tradition, especially given the red hair she seems to have inherited, presumably from Bleys."
"You aren't exactly blond, either. You hair's darkened since I've known you, and your redheaded ancestry has become more obvious in the last couple of years. Maybe because you're hanging around Amber, Uncle John and your Hendrake cousins more."
"True enough."
"Can I meet them?"
"Meet...not sure. See, certainly. I need to stretch my legs and I think Marina will be okay for a little while, and no doubt the nurses will be pleased to see the back of me for a bit, so they can do their check-ups."
We got to our feet, at which point I realised how stiff I was all over. I stretched, trying to get rid of the kinks, and then we headed for the nursery, so I could introduce him to his new siblings.