Sing the Four Quarters by Tanya Huff

came closer, the figure turned, became a woman, a sun-bleached fringe of blonde hair framing an expression part worry, part relief. Her mouth moved, but her voice was lost under the sound of the waves and the Song of the flute.
    The cluster of kigh beneath the boat continued up onto the shore. The villagers cried out and scattered. With the bow almost upon her, Annice turned the Song to a gratitude and the kigh flowed out from underneath it, returning to the sea. The bottom of the boat dropped onto the gravel, exactly at the high water mark.
    Annice let the flute drop away from her mouth and staggered back against a solid chest.
    "I've got you, child." Arms wrapped around her, holding her on her feet, and she gratefully sagged against their strength, her vision swimming.
    In the babble of voices that followed, Annice heard the woman cry out a name, then saw blurry figures rush forward and lift a small body out over the low stern.
    Someone yelled, "Get him to old Emils!"
    Then the world tilted and went away.
    Annice woke staring up at the low, beamed ceiling of a fisher cottage. She struggled to sit, but a large hand pushed her back against the mattress.
    "Emils says you're fine, your baby's fine, and you're an idiot."
    Considering the way she felt, Annice decided not to argue with that last statement. Squinting to see in the dim light that came through the small, leather-covered window, she watched a heavyset, middle-aged woman with close-cropped gray hair cross the room to a pitcher, fill a clay mug with water, and return.
    "Taska, isn't it?"
    The woman smiled, pleating her face into a map of her life, and held the mug to Annice's mouth. "Imagine you remembering that. It must be three years since you Walked this way. Drink slowly, Annice. I don't want you choking to death after carrying you up those unenclosed stairs."
    "That was you? The one who caught me?"
    "None other." She hooked a stubby-legged, driftwood chair with her foot and dragged it across the uneven floor to the bed. "Now then." The chair groaned as she sat. "Tell me what brought you flying down the cliff just in time to rescue young Jurgis."
    Jurgis. So that was the child's name. "How is he?"

    "He's a tough kiddie and Emils hates to lose a patient. Takes it personal. He'll be all right after a while."
    "The woman?" She tried to keep her tone neutral and didn't quite manage.
    Taska's brows dipped slightly. "Nadina i'Gituska. His mother. She's outside making a nuisance of herself, along with most of the village. Refuses to leave until she's sure her kiddie's okay."
    "Who's his father?"
    "Who knows."
    "Are you still Head?"
    The brows dipped slightly lower. It wasn't a full frown, but it was close. "Wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
    "The kigh came for me. They said she was killing the boy."
    To her surprise, Taska only nodded slowly. "Thought there was more to it than her story of him slipping on a bit of gut and going over." At the bard's questioning look, she added, "Water in the bay felt wrong."
    Annice nodded slowly in turn. With training, Taska could have Sung water, but she'd had no interest in be coming a bard. According to the recall of the bard who'd found her some forty years before, nothing—not appealing to her sense of adventure, nor her sense of duty, nor just plain pleading—had shaken her from her polite reply. " No, thank you. I'd rather fish ."
    One hand wrapped protectively around her belly, Annice threw back the rough wool blanket and carefully sat up.
    "Let's get this over with."
    "Are you crazy, Bard? Me hurt Jurgis?" Nadina looked as though she'd just been hit. Her left hand even rose to cup her cheek. "He's all I live for."
    A concurring murmur ran through the surrounding crowd.
    Leaning against the door of the healer's house, Annice dragged her tongue across her lips. She hoped she had the energy left for this. "Is there a quorum of villagers present?"
    Beside her, Taska finished counting. "There is."
    Annice straightened. "Nadina