Mature Randi

It seized her mind like the devil's mantra: infertile,infertile, infertile, infertile ... INFERTILE! So there it was: shewould never have a daughter. She couldn't conceive and the governmenthad already callously informed her that she was too old to adopt anAmerican baby.As for foreign orphans, Maggie had decided long ago that these shouldstay in their own village and culture; for the past eighteen years shehad been a foster parent to a succession of Ethiopian girls. There hadbeen Adina, Gabra Aisha, Yenee and Tenagne - the children of dirtfarmers or herders. Try, try as she might, she had never connected withthem emotionally; their stunted lives were simply too alien and theirchoices too constricted to require the insights or empathy of a "couponclipper" living in the suburban Pacific Northwest. (She had divorced aMicrosoft insider.)Besides, and maybe this made her less than a perfect human being in theeyes of the intolerant folk who preached tolerance and diversity, shehad. He hit the shoulder instead, his magic sword cutting through the armored plates and padding of the brigandine, and then into the flesh and bone. The spearman dropped his weapon and staggered back in shock.Sarette arrived then, her staff-spear crackling with energy. She jumped from her saddle, landing on her feet, then swung her weapon straight into a man’s head with a flash of blue light. He collapsed, his face a burned mess. Another of the ambushers snuck close, carrying a flanged mace.“Behind you!” Corec yelled.Sarette leapt up, backwards, over the man’s head. She landed behind him and thrust her blade deep into his back. There was another flash of light and he fell to the ground.Corec was sure the lightning magic was overkill. The wounds were deep and the men would have been out of the fight magic or not. But then her next opponent was one of the guards wearing brigandine. Rather than trying to stab through the armor, Sarette simply touched her staff-spear’s blade against it. The.
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