Margarise woke with a start to a sharp kick to the bladder, a small reminder that she was functioning for two people in more than one area. Alright, alright, she thought, as she made her way to the bathroom. It was down the hall a bit, but she'd made the journey enough times that she was quite good at avoiding others.

Finishing up, she washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror. Her once-vibrant burgandy hair was short and frazzled, and there were heavy bags under her deep blue eyes. A small sigh escaped her lips. I'm only sixteen, she reminded herself. This sort of thing shouldn't happen to a kid. And yet... Margarisse rolled her eyes. "You have to stop thinking this way," she airtalked. Margarisse couldn't truly speak out loud, but time had allowed her to develop a technique where her mouth formed the words while her lungs pushed the air through her lips, basically enabling her to lightly whisper. To those she 'spoke' to regularly, she called it airtalking. It worked well enough to get her point across when she needed to.

The girl dried her hands on her apron and poked her head out the door. The coast is clear! she thought, as she slipped through the door and began walking back to her 'hidden quarters'.

A light drizzle was falling outside; through the window, Maggie could see a pair of stormclouds fighting for dominance in the sky. Against the greyness, it was almost impossible to spot Professor Devlin until he opened the door and came inside, bringing with him the smell of the cool wet air and the sound of rain.

"Oh, good evening, Margarise," he said, his voice strained and achey with tiredness. He looked slightly weak as he paced slowly to his office door, opening the door with a click. "Out and about this evening, I see..."

Maggie frowned. It was such a lovely day earlier, too. How sad. I suppose the plants need the rain as much as they need the sun, though.

The girl smiled and nodded. "Only for a moment," she airtalked. Poor man, she thought. He looks so tired. "Are you alright, Professor?" she whispered. "You look a little...under the weather."

Devlin chuckled and held the door open for Margarisse.

"I was under the weather all afternoon, in a quite literal sense," he said cheerfully. "I've got to stop taking the moa everywhere. Molly's fast, but a good roof over your head..."

Stepping into his office, he set down a knapsack full of books and other odds and ends.

"How were you feeling today, Maggie?" he asked, taking out a log that he used to record her general health and reactions to the tests. "Any more kicks? Is that headache gone?"

Margarisse smiled as she walked through the door. She remembered Moas. Her family had had two, they were lovely creatures. "Maybe we should look into making a cover for you when you're riding. It would come in handy on rainy days like this."

Instinctively, Maggie put a hand to her stomach. "Mmhmm," she whispered. "There have been a lot, actually. Baby's feeling quite active today. But I feel fine. I guess I just needed a nap." The girl paused, the asked "Professor, is there a way to find out what I'm having? I mean, if it's a boy or a girl? I...I'd like to have a name for it soon, and if it's a boy, well...I'd like to name him after his grandfather Horation." Margarisse's cheeks colored a little as she thought of her father, but only for a moment.

Devlin looked surprised by the question. He had no children of his own, and could not relate to the idea of naming the baby before it was born; still, he nodded.

"I'd have to look up the exact phrasing," he said, thumbing through his recent mail. His hand paused over the note that Ophelia had left for him.

"I'm not very good at Quantitative magic," he admitted, absentmindedly. Her handwriting...he would have recognized it anywhere. A pang of guilt passed through his mind as he noticed the ring in the open drawer.

"But it's a simple spell," he finished, looking up at her and smiling. "Have a seat while I fetch my grim. Has Mr. Moore been in today? I need to speak with him..."

A look of worry crossed Margarisse's face for a moment. Professor Devlin seems so distracted lately. I hope everything is alright. She knew better than to ask. Even if they treated her more like a wick than a servant, she was still a passive and she knew her place.

"I haven't seen Professor Moore all day," she answered as she took a seat. Oh, I do love this chair. "Although, I did fall asleep earlier so I could have just not known if he did. I'm sorry, sir."

"No matter," said Devlin, now flipping through an ancient textbook called A Study in Magical Queries. He made that humming sound he always made while searching for the answer to a question.

"Here," he said, showing Margarisse the chicken-scratch Monite that would tell her the sex of her baby. The heading read in Estuan Determining the Sex of the Unborn: an Investigation in Two Verses. "It's very simple. Are you sure you want me to cast it, though? Isn't there something to be said for surprises?" He smiled wryly.

Margarisse laughed and patted her large stomach. "I feel bad calling him 'it', and I don't want to call him a he if he's really a she," she breathed. "I was told once that babies can hear their mothers' words from inside, and it'd be terrible if he thought I thought he was a girl." She smiled. And if it's a boy, I'll call him by name...either way, my baby will be loved no matter what it turns out to be.

"Very well," said Devlin, raising his right hand.

Quantitative magic was a strange thing to watch. Margarisse was used to it, having seen the professors performing long strings of calculations almost daily since she had come to stay with them. Still, the tingling feeling of magic was there; she could feel it rooting around inside her womb, like part of her body had fallen asleep.

Devlin spoke no words, but made a complex movement with his hand, like he was trying to catch something in midair.

After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"You're having a boy," he said, quite certainly. "And he has all his fingers and toes."

It was a strange feeling, having magic at work on a body that can't really feel it. It was even stranger, having it inside her when she knew it wasn't supposed to be there...almost like--NO. She wouldn't think of it. Not again, not ever. She closed her eyes and thought of the sunshine from earlier today. Sunshine on my shoulder makes me happy, don't forget that. Think of happy.

Margarisse smiled. A boy. And he's healthy! Her smile widened. "Thank you, sir. His name will be Horation Lourette, after his Grandfather." The man who saved my life. "I...I know it's not usual for one of us to stay attached to our families after...well, after, but," she paused, her brow creased. "I love my father, and I know he was only doing what was best for the family." I hope my son turns out to be the same. Mostly.

Devlin didn't want to comment on Margarisse's family situation; as far as he was concerned, it was none of his business. But he had been looking for a way to bring up the matter, after all...

"Er, Margarisse," he said, as tactfully as he could. "It's not my way to pry, of course, but we should discuss, at some point, your plans for the child once he is born."

Margarisse blinked in surprise. Professor Devlin had never asked about her plans, much less those for her baby, before. "Well, I, um, actually, I," she stammered, blushing. "I hadn't really thought about it, I suppose. I had hoped maybe he could go to be with my father, to be raised propperly and given a good life." To be raised as a galdor, the way I should have been, and give my father a child he can be proud of. "I can't keep him here, the servants quarters are is no place for a baby." She lowered her eyes and looked at her hands, jolting at the sudden movement of her son within.

She looked back at the professor with questioning eyes. "What do you think I should do?"

Devlin, in turn, was surprised to be asked for his opinion.

"I'm hardly the person to give advice on family matters," he said gruffly. "But...Maggie..."

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, wondering if this was indeed the right thing to do.

"I know some people in Vienda," he said. "They'd take in you in, if you wanted to remain with your boy. Think about it, all right? It's not the worst life."

Vienda? But it's so far from home... "I suppose..." Margarisse airtalked. "But...I'd have to raise Horation as a wick...and I know he's so much more than that, I just know it! And what if somebody found out about me? They'd take him away and throw me in jail!" The girl's brow creased in worry, and her hand wandered towards her stomach. She closed her eyes and shook her head quickly, to rid her mind of the horrid mental pictures.

"I...I guess it's something to think about, sir. I don't know, I'm just...I'm just scared, that's all."

Professor Devlin sighed. "There's no easy answer," he said sadly. "If you choose to stay, you must be certain your father will take the child. If you prefer, I can meet with him beforehand. But if he does...object...well, it's best we have a second plan."

Sitting down behind his desk, his eyes fell once more on the note left for him by Ophelia. He grimaced, feeling another pang of guilt.

"We have time," he continued, after a moment. "But not much time."

Margarisse slowly nodded her head. She was a young girl, a simple sixteen year old, but she still had some semblance of familial pride. She was--had been--a Lourette after all, and it was her duty to carry on the family line. And I let them down so very badly...at least now there could still be a chance. "I suppose...that would be the first thing to do. He most likely won't have anything to do with me for what I am, but...our family was, erm, is a most proud one. If you mention an opportunity to carry on the family tradition, especially the name...perhaps he would be more welcoming." The girl blushed a little, and looked at the foot-shaped lump sticking out the side of her belly. Young Horation wants to play...

The passive's eyes snapped up quickly to the face of the man before her. Her strange way of talking required air, and she had quickly exhaled most of what she had in her lungs. Margarisse took a deep breath before asking, "Not much time? What do you mean, sir?"

"You will give birth soon, I believe," said Devlin, standing and putting the Quantitative book back on the shelf in alphabetical order. "But there is another reason. Have you heard the phrase 'the writing on the wall'? I have been reading it, Maggie, diligently. It's not good news for passives. Unless Harper and I are able to come to some palatable conclusion, and soon...I fear there might be even harsher restrictions on you."

"Harsher restictions?" the girl whispered. "How can there be harsher restrictions? Are we not ruled over enough?"

The color rose in Maggie's cheeks. Her normally quiet demeaner fell away and anger was visible on her face. "We cannot marry, we cannot have children, we cannot live in the world without fear of capture and enslavement. Life for us outside these walls is practically nonexistant, and they wish to impose more rules on us?" Tears welled in the girl's eyes.

"Maybe mother was right. Why not save time and trouble and execute us upon failure of our tests? It would make life easier on all parties involved."

Devlin frowned deeply. "I am on your side, Margarisse," he said, slightly irritated. "I don't believe for one moment that you're the type to sink into self-pity. The only thing we can do is forge ahead with the research. I can't fathom the actions of this government any more than you can, but you must recognize that the policies on passives are not sadistic. They are misguided attempts to keep everyone as safe as possible."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Maggie whispered. He was right, of course. Self pity would get her nowhere. "I just...I know passives can be dangerous, but...I don't feel dangerous. I feel...well, I feel strangled. As if people are so afraid we might explode, they try to keep us locked away so we won't, which only adds more pressure until we finally do." The girl shook her head. "It's a flawed system, sir. That's all."