“Let me attach those straps,” Iskra said as she returned. She took four thick canvas straps and tied them securely to the legs of the cot. “It’ll give you something to push against,” she attached the straps to Mifad’s ankles and wrists, “and keep you from shifting in a way that might hurt the baby.” Mifad, with frequent, nervous glances at her sleeping husband, acceded.
With all the straps secure, and Mifad effectively immobile, Iskra paused by her side. “Sure you don’t want to help with that rescission of promises, Lady?” Mifad was already panting and sweating. No real risk to the baby, though.
“You can’t hurt me! Me or the baby. Karit said so. He said your promise binds you. You can’t hurt us,” the lady said loudly as if repetition could make it true. “Karit, wake up!”
“So you do disc
