"Hanno's got plans for your child; maybe someone's out to foil them. Someone other than us, that is. Sandals, hair, doors and windows, I can't think of anything else. Komi, you're going to have to do what the young husband did in the song. Go downstairs and tell everyone it's done: mother and child alive and well. Tell them it's a boy. And if someone starts shouting, 'Oh, who's undone this, that, and the other?' for the gods' sake listen. If that doesn't fetch anything, you may have to go out in the street, though that's risky."
"Do you think I care?" Komi said, and was gone. Presently they heard his voice ringing downstairs, echoing through the house; and the sound of cheering, and a wail of indignation, and running footsteps. "Quick," Cynthia said. "Your back to the door. Here, take this." She rolled up one of the discarded blankets into a bundle of suitable size and put it into the girl's arms.