The Baker's Boy Read Free Page A

Searching ... to tell if you are well."
Baralis found the lie easy. It was not the first time he had lied to his
mother.
    "Well,"
she laughed indulgently, "do your worst!" Baralis laid his hands on
his mother's stomach. He could feel the warmth of her body through the thin
fabric of her nightgown. His fingers spread out and he concentrated on the
search. The manuscript had warned that it was more a mental than physical
exercise, so he focused the fullness of his thoughts on his mother's belly.
    He felt the blood
rushing through her veins and the forceful rhythm of her heart. He felt the
discharge of juices in her stomach and the gentle push of her intestines. He
adjusted his hands lower; he met his mother's eyes and she gave him a look of encouragement.
He found the spot the manuscript spoke of: a fertile redness. Excitement
building within him, he explored the muscled embrace that was his mother's
womb.
    He detected
something: a delicate burgeoning. He was unsure; he searched deeper. His mother's
face was beginning to look worried, but he paid her no mind. His abandon was
growing; there was something there, something new and separate. It was
wonderful and exhilarating. He wanted to touch the presence with his mind; he
dug deeper and his mother let out a cry of pain.
    "Barsi,
stop!" Her beautiful face was contorted with agony.
    He panicked and
tried to withdraw as quickly as possible, but as he drew back, he dragged
something out with him. He felt a shifting, a dislodging and then the tear of
flesh. Terrified, he removed his hands. His mother was screaming hysterically
and she doubled up in pain, clutching her stomach. Baralis noticed the quick
flare of blood on the sheets. The screams! He could not bear her agonized
screams! He didn't know what to do. He could not leave her alone to call for
help. Spasms racked his mother's body and the blood flowed like a river,
soaking the white sheets with its bright gaudiness.
    "Mother,
please stop, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, please stop." Tears of panic
coursed down his cheeks. "Mother. I'm sorry." He hugged her to him,
heedless of the blood. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice a
frightened whisper.
    He held his mother
as she bled to death. It took only minutes, but to Baralis it seemed like an
eternity, as he felt the strength and life wane from her beloved body.
    Baralis stirred
himself from his recollection. That was then, many years ago, when he had been
young and green. He was a master himself now. There would be no mistakes caused
by inexperience. He now understood that to have tried such a mental task when
only a boy was pure stupidity. He'd barely known what "being with
child" meant, and had only the whisperings of adolescence as his guide to
how children were conceived.
    Baralis realized
he was taking a risk performing a Searching on the queen, but he had to
know-conception was at the best of times a chance event. He dared not think of
what he would do if his seed had not found favor. Part of him was aware it
might be far too early to tell, but the other part of him suspected that he
would be able to discern a tiny change, and that would be enough.
    He bent over the
body of the queen and placed his hands on her stomach. He knew straight away
that the fabric of her elaborate court gown was too heavy. He lifted her skirts
once more and was surprised to see he had forgotten to replace her
undergarments. It was just as well, really, he thought, as they were uncommonly
bulky, too.
    More experienced
he may have been than when he was thirteen, but he wished his hands were still
youthful. It was a strain to spread his fingers full-out upon her belly, and he
bit his lip in pain; he could not allow his own discomfort to interfere with
the endeavor. He found the right place straight away; he was no novice now.
    He began the
Searching. It was so familiar, the cloistered warmth of the organs, the pulsing
redness of the blood vessels, the heat of the liver. He proceeded with