Corus. 232 HE.
In the streets of the Lower City, a baby was crying.
Some beggar children roaming the streets heard it first, following the squalls and happening upon a newborn baby lying in the gutter. Its face was the colour between pink and blue, and it wriggled around in the street muck. The youngest child picked it up gingerly and held it close against his chest. The oldest girl in the gang frowned.
"You're cracked if you think Marna'll like this," she warned.
"But it's a baby," the youngest protested. "It'll die on its own, Attia."
Attia scowled. "We're finding food, not an extra mouth to feed."
The youngest shook his head stubbornly. "I'm taking it to Marna."
Attia sighed. "Marna's more likely to throw you both in the Olorun tied together by the ankles."
The rest of the children stared silently at the baby.
"No one wants it. Or it wouldn't be here in the first place," Attia pointed out. "Come on Jack. Let's go."
Jack tightened his grip on the baby. The baby's eyes bulged a little. Attia frowned again.
"Give it here then. You're crushing it," she snapped.
She held the baby at arm's length and lifted its swaddling clothes from it, handing it to the child next to her. "So it's not a cripple," she mused, inspecting its face and body. The baby opened its mouth to protest quite vehemently that it was perfectly normal, and started to wail.
Jack took it back immediately, comforting it, but not before glaring quickly at Attia. The child holding the swaddling clothes wrapped it around the baby again, cooing softly. The rest of the children, about three of them clustered protectively around the baby murmuring gently to it. The baby quietened, mesmerised by all the faces making hushing sounds.
Attia sighed. "You win this time, baby. Babies," she corrected herself, looking pointedly at Jack and his supporters.
Jack stuck his nose into the air and marched off in the direction of Marna's Court, hiding from the others the big smile spreading across his face.