Tortall by Tamora Pierce Page A

she was needed at her spying work and Nawat was often away from home.
    Nawat asked Terai, “You said you have a child?”
    She smiled at him. “My lord, how do you think I come to be in milk?” she asked. “You will need a second wet nurse, though, so we are never in danger of going dry. I know someone.”
    Here, at least, Nawat was on solid ground. “You must ask our door guard to escort you to Atisa in the morning,” he explained. “Have you spoken with her yourself?”
    Terai shivered. Everyone remembered Aly’s lieutenant after a conversation with her, and everyone in the Crow household had to speak to Atisa at least once before they worked for Aly and Nawat. Only then would Aly meet with them and confirm Atisa’s choices. No one lied successfully to Aly. She saw every falsehood, except those of the crow shape-changers. “Atisa said I was fit to be wet nurse to your family,” Terai told Nawat when her shivers were done.
    “Give her your recommendation for a second wet nurse,” Nawat said. “My mate—my
wife
and I have enemies. Atisa is the one who ensures that none get close to us. You must tell her we will require two more nursemaids.” Two more babies than expected would not only need more care, but also more bodyguards. Atisa would pick women who had fighting skills as well as the ability to burp babies. “She probably knows already, though,” Nawat admitted.
    They reached the door to the suite of rooms that housed the Crow family. The man and the woman in army uniforms at the door brought their spears and their bodies straight in a salute to their commander, though their eyes flicked overthe three small bundles in undyed wool blankets. Then the woman reached for the grip on the double door and opened it. As Nawat and Terai passed through, Nawat heard the man, the human, whisper, “Congratulations,
lurah.
” (Chief.)
    The woman, who was a crow when needed, murmured, “What, no eggs?”
    “I am a failure as a mate,” Nawat joked in reply.
    The door opened onto their sitting room. The queen had placed them in the royal tower itself. Nawat had approved. The height would be a good perch when the nestlings tried their wings. He knew that might take longer than usual, since they had entered the world in human form.
    The thought made him stumble as he led the wet nurse across the sitting room. A single hop gave Nawat his balance again; a cheerful grin comforted Terai, who had gasped in alarm. Inside, Nawat was not at all cheerful or comforted. There had been a tug in that thought about his children taking longer to fly—or was it that they had been born human? He was not certain which idea had made him start, but the feeling itself was what his people called “the god pulling a feather.” It was a warning of trouble to come, a signal for a crow to be vigilant. He looked at the infant in his arms. What danger would come to her and her nest mates?
    Ochobai was awake. She looked vaguely in his direction, but he knew she only did so to look
somewhere
. When he was learning to be of use to Aly, the village mothers had let him watch over their young. They had told him how much their nestlings could see and what their noises and movements meant.
    “That way is your mama’s workroom,” he said, as much for the wet nurse as for Ochobai. “No one goes there without Mama’s permission. If anyone tries to enter, the door will burn their hands. Here is the bedroom that Mama and I share.”
    “What a strange bed!” Terai remarked. “The wood’s carved like—”
    “A nest,” replied Nawat. “It was Aly’s gift to me on our wedding.” Inside the sheer insect curtains the blankets and pillows were arranged just as he and Aly liked them, in a circle around the mattress. Nawat was glad to see that everything was in order. Aly would be tired when she came home. She would want to fall into her usual comfortable bed.
    Inside the nets, he saw darkness rise from a carved bowl set in the wall above the pillows.