Pain without purpose was futile. Braph’s pain was for a higher purpose. For that, he would endure it. While Orin was allowed to view proceedings, Braph had enlisted Orinia’s assistance to connect the metal cuff to his bloodstream, not prepared to trust the steadiness of a needle in a child’s hands. Only, of course, she was now in labor.

  Braph’s study was his domain – a space purpose built in service to his projects. Just inside and to the left of the door were the two chairs affixed to the stone floor tiles, leather cuffs for ankles and wrists from when he’d had to tie Ieaun, and later his daughter Llewella, for his Aenuk blood collections, and the orphans who had healed them, allowing Braph to draw every drop of blood from them several times over in one sitting. Tucked in the right back corner stood the exercise equipment he’d had installed to make sure Jonas was in as peak condition as possible, despite his infection, for the fight intended to score points with the Turhmos public and draw in Aris to his death.

  The rest of the room was dedicated to the crystal-making machinery and Braph’s workbench on which sat contraptions of metal and glass in various states of completion. Thankfully, his nephew, Joelin, was still too short to reach those. Braph’s preference would be for the child to never step foot into this room, but Orinia had insisted that leaving him out of proceedings would be tantamount to neglect and, apparently, that would be bad.

  Abandoning her first attempt at driving the high gauge needle into the visible vein in his upper arm, Orinia leaned into his workbench, groaning. Orin looked pained at his mother’s suffering and quivered like he wanted to reach out to her, but then capitulated and sat back in one of the tall caster-wheeled chairs designed for working at the workbench.

  “Uh oh,” said Joelin.

  Expressing his annoyance with a grimace, Braph rolled the tourniquet off over the round stump below his right elbow, hooked what remained of his forearm through a thick elastic band attached to the wall and flexed, keeping the blood flowing, keeping the vein at the surface full. He reached his left hand out, rubbing it over Orinia’s curved back, memories returning of the day Orin was born. She had appreciated back rubs and hot water bottles. But she wasn’t in full blown labor yet. The contractions were still haphazard in timing, length, and strength.

  Her groan turned to heavy breathing, and she relaxed, though she remained hunched over a few moments more. Orin, too, visibly relaxed.

  “What number is this?” Braph asked, projecting gentleness for Orinia’s sake. As unattached as he was to this child of the state, his heart felt heavy at the thought of her misuse at the hands of Turhmos.

  “I’ve lost count.” Orinia eased herself to stand again. She closed her eyes and slowly released one more controlled breath. “They’re still irregular, but they seem to be getting stronger.”

  Braph smiled. “No. I meant the baby. How many half-siblings does Orin have?”

  “Oh.” Something crossed Orinia’s face, and he thought she might clam. She hadn’t done much talking since her release from the Aenuk bunker, though she always turned to him when he offered displays of affection; a loose hug, or a kiss on the cheek. Then she spoke quietly. “Seven. This is number seven.”

  “Seven?” Orin’s jaw dropped.

  “Sa,” said Joelin, mostly distracted now by a rolling contraption Orin had fashioned out of some cogs and scrap metal.

  That would be one a year since they took her. A mild pain settled in Braph’s gut. He stopped flexing his elbow, distracted by these unpleasant feelings. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”

  Orinia shrugged, most of her attention inwards, focused on the baby. She tightened the tourniquet for him. “Better move quickly.”

  Braph bent and unfolded his arm several times without resistance. The cephalic vein was visible. That was all he needed. Once he had magic flowing through him, the rest would be simple. Orinia realigned the needle, and hesitated.

  “Go on, before the next one comes,” he said. “This is the hard bit.”

  Orinia placed the sharp tip to his skin and pushed against the resistance. Braph felt a slight pop and burning as the needle sliced through his skin. Blood emerged from the top end of the needle and dripped onto Braph’s arm. Orinia gasped looked up at him, alarmed. It was nothing new for him, though. All would be well soon.

  “Good. Now the tube,” he said.

  Orinia picked up the finely wrought rubber tube, slim enough to slide through the thick needle and into Braph’s vein. The extension of the tube into his vein sent a fiery pain through his arm, but Braph focused on how close he was to tasting the power. All this would be worth it.

  Holding the tube in place, Orinia gently slid the needle over it and out of his skin.

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  “Quickly,” Braph muttered, aware that her next contraction could start any time. If he’d waited any longer, they would have three children underfoot. Two was bad enough.

  Sliding the needle free of the tube, Orinia collected the miniature metal cuff parts as Braph had shown her, creating a seal on the end of the tube that would screw into the larger cuff that already had one of Orin’s crystals fixed in place. Braph almost salivated at the closeness of the power. Orinia’s delicate hands twirled the two pieces together, screwing them tight. Braph reached for the crystal’s enclosure, pressing the mini pump a few times. It needed to be manually primed, but once the power was flowing, he could set it to look after itself. Magic was wonderful stuff. The ache where the tube met his body turned to a fizzing sensation then spread beyond the connection site and through the rest of his body. He savored it a moment before turning his concentration to healing his flesh around the tube with plenty of scar tissue to hold it in place.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  Orinia was already distracted, clearly feeling the next contraction coming on. She pushed the crystal casing into Braph’s hand and turned to grab the bench.

  Torn for the briefest moment between comforting her and getting on with things on his own, Braph lined the larger cuff up with his stump. The metal join, where the tube connected to his bloodstream met the tube to the large cuff, kept falling in the way.

  “Orin.”

  His son moved quickly, lifting the tube out of the way. Braph gifted him a slight smile, pressed the cuff against his fleshy stump, twisted it a little one way, then back again, and corrected a little more. Only when he was totally satisfied by its positioning did he flick the latch that released the clamps. Eight curved strips of metal dug into his skin encircling his arm, setting off eight points of burning pain not unlike when the cleaver had sliced through his forearm some months earlier. He fired magic through his system, numbing the pain almost instantly, then healing his flesh around these new intrusions. Beside him, Orinia controlled her breathing, dealt with her own pain. Pain that, in Braph’s opinion, was pointless. She didn’t want the baby. He didn’t want the baby. They would deliver it to the Palace soon after it emerged. And then they would move on and consolidate themselves as Turhmos’s premiere family. Syaenuk mother, Immortal son, and extremely intelligent and powerful Karan Magician father.

  For the moment, the magic flowed into him only, dissipating after several minutes as his body broke it down. While it sat in his bloodstream, though, it was a high he didn’t think he could ever beat. Although, a shimmering tree flickered in his mind’s eye. A return to Taither beckoned.

  Filled with magic, in total control of his senses, pain, and dexterity, Braph took a new high gauge, needle and lined it up on his skin where he estimated the brachial artery to be.

  Directing some of the magic to the area he plumped up the artery and shifted it closer to the surface, making it clearly visible. Then he numbed the area and held blood-flow back temporarily as he pushed the needle through his flesh, fed another rubber pipe in, slid the needle out, and healed his flesh.

  He always preferred to work alone. With magic flowing throughout, he was close to a return.

  He held his arm up for Orin to do the fiddly bit: attaching the tube to the cuff. Now the magic could flow through him, and any excess could return to the device to be stored and recycled.

  Orin already brandished the new hand, pride putting a glint in his eyes and plumping his cheeks.

  “Orn. Orn! Orn!” The toddler demanded the masterpiece as the good son handed it over.

  As Braph took it, Joelin threw himself on the floor, hitting his head hard and bursting into shrieks.

  Orinia’s contraction had come to an end and she scooped up the child and set about trying to soothe him.

  Tuning out the racket as best he could, Braph took the metallic hand and forearm and fitted its nodule into the nest of the cuff. It slid in easily initially, with a final push needed to click it into place, then it was back to Orin to attach the flexible metal tubes connecting cuff and arm.

  The fingers of the metal hand drooped lazily, clinking together as Braph shifted. The trio waited while the power from Orin’s crystal slowly built up within the system; Braph’s body and the attached gadgetry. After several minutes, Braph concentrated on moving the index finger. It trembled, bent slightly at the two ‘knuckles’. He’d been trying for a full contraction, but he would accept small victories. He, as well as anyone, knew persistence mattered more than the size of the steps taken to get there. Orin was not so schooled. A muted grunt escaped the child’s throat.

  Braph let his left-hand fall, swung it a fraction behind his hip.

  Without thinking too deeply on the details of how to move a finger, he simply told himself to curl both index fingers in unison. The new metal right index finger folded its two top joints, while his fleshy left did the same out of sight.

  “Yeah!” Orin bounced on the spot and clapped a hand against Braph’s back, then swiftly pulled both of his hands behind his back. “Oops,” he murmured.

  Braph let the slight slide, even shared a smile with the boy.

  Then Orinia broke the moment with a gasp and another contraction. As soon as she placed Joelin back on the floor he fell, smacked his head, and began to wail again.