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Harry Turtledove
She clung to Ealstan. "I'm very lucky," she said.
He squeezed her again, this time till she could hardly breathe. "You make me lucky," he said. Vanai didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at that. It was absurd, but magnificently absurd. The baby kicked. "I felt that!" Ealstan exclaimed, which was hardly surprising, considering how tight he held her. "He's getting stronger."
"That's what he's supposed to do," Vanai answered. "He's getting bigger, too." She rolled away from Ealstan and onto her back, then lifted her head so she could look at herself. Her belly definitely bulged now. Pretty soon, even her baggy Forthwegian tunics wouldn't be able to hide her pregnancy any more. "And so am I."
He set his hand on the swelling below her navel. "That's what you're supposed to do, too." Before very long, his hand wandered lower. He was still young enough to be able to make love about as often as the thought crossed his mind.
As he began to stroke her, Vanai said, "This is how my belly started getting big in the first place."
Laughing, Ealstan shook his head. "My hand had nothing to do with that." But, what with what followed, Vanai wasn't wrong, either. Both of them slept soundly that night.
When they woke, it was later in the morning than usual. Vanai wasn't surprised when Ealstan told her her sorcerous disguise had slipped. She repaired it while he gobbled bread and almonds and wine for breakfast. "Is everything all right?" she asked when she finished the spell.
He nodded. "Fine," he said with his mouth full. "Pybba's going to burst like an egg if I don't get to work on time."
"No, he won't," Vanai said. "He knows you do good work, and he knows you do plenty of work, too. You just take him too seriously when he starts roaring and bellowing."
"If you'd listened to him roaring and bellowing as much as I have, you'd take him seriously, too." Ealstan dug a finger into one ear, as if to say listening to Pybba had left him half deaf. From her own brief meeting with the pottery magnate, Vanai could readily believe that. Ealstan gave her a quick kiss tasting of wine and hurried out the door. She rolled her eyes. He talked about listening to Pybba, but he hadn't listened to her.
She ate her own breakfast at a more leisurely clip. Then she put some silver in her handbag and went downstairs. Her thoughts of the evening before convinced her she needed a couple of new tunics, cut even more loosely than the ones she already owned. Forthwegian women just didn't display the contours of their bodies. If she was to seem a proper Forthwegian woman, she couldn't, either.
Down on the streets, news-sheet vendors shouted out their headlines. They still said nothing about King Raniero boiled alive. Their cry was, "Algarvian drive toward Herborn storms on! Plegmund's brave Brigade spearheads assault!" Vanai did not buy a news sheet.
She did buy a couple of tunics in a linen-wool blend. They would do for any but very cold days, and she could wear a cloak over them then. Picking colors was harder than it had been before she donned a Forthwegian appearance, and took a while. Forthwegians could and did wear stronger colors than she would have chosen while she still looked like her fair-haired Kaunian self. The shopgirl seemed to mean it when she particularly praised the green of one tunic, which left Vanai pleased with herself as she headed back to the flat with her purchases.