In Which Searle Has to Wait

February 22, 1190

Searle had spent the past few months transfixed by Morgan's stomach. Over the past while, she'd taken to staying late at the university, claiming she wanted to get as much done as possible before her leave--and when she was home, she often napped, door shut. Lonriad had taken Searle aside and explained that it wasn't polite to stare at pregnant women's bellies while ignoring the women themselves, and that Morgan had grown a little uncomfortable. If that was the case, Searle was sorry, he guessed. Morgan hadn't wronged him.

But he'd seen pregnant women before. He hadn't seen his Aunt Maeja any differently when she'd been pregnant. If anything, he'd avoided his mother more diligently when she'd been pregnant.

Morgan, though... Morgan was different. That was odd, because she'd been more or less like most adult women who weren't his Aunt Maeja or his mother or his grandmother or the lady in silk: nice enough, but he felt neither connection or repulsion. But her baby beckoned him like a beacon and he wasn't sure why.

Maybe he'd ask the lady in silk about it. She knew lots of things, like how to call wisps of light from thin air. She'd asked about Morgan too, sort of, when she'd called a few months. She said she'd heard his cousin Lonriad had married, and she'd asked about his bride, whether or not there was a baby on the way, how healthy she seemed. If anyone knew what was so special about Morgan's baby, it would be the lady in silk.

He didn't know how to get in touch with her, though. She said he was the one who could bring her to Naroni, but he'd never managed to summon her on his own, not once in the dozen or so times he'd tried. He supposed he could write to her, but that would require knowing where she lived, or what her name was.

He guessed he'd just have to wait.

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