by Anne Bishop
“If you have something to say to me that you don’t want shouted to everyone within hearing, come in. I’ve got to keep pressure on this wound. And who is this anyway? And why is she in a male inmate’s room?”
“She’s Handler Zhahar’s sister. She had reasons to seek help from Lee.”
Picturing the dark look he was getting from Benham, Lee said, “I’m not having sex with Zeela.”
“Tch,” Zeela slurred. “Wouldn’t have him anyway, since he wants to rub skin with Zhahar.”
“Which we haven’t done,” Lee said firmly. Rub skin? He’d been fantasizing about a bit more than that lately, but he didn’t know the Tryad’s customs when it came to having sex. Maybe touching skin, which was unique to each sister, was considered more intimate than touching body parts that were shared?
Nik returned with a stretcher and Denys. A protesting and no doubt frightened Zeela was moved from chair to stretcher and hurried to the infirmary.
Lee wanted to go with them but figured a blind man would be in the way. Besides, hearing the door close and Danyal quietly turning, he didn’t think leaving the room was an option right now.
“What’s that?” Danyal asked.
“If you’re referring to the pack, it’s what they could bring. They ran, Danyal. Something turned sour where they live, and they ran after Zeela was hurt. Took what they could and most likely left the rest.”
“Should I understand that I won’t be able to talk to Zhahar until Zeela is out of the infirmary?”
“Yes, you should understand that.”
Silence. Then, “Where did you come from, Lee?”
“I come from a village called Aurora. I don’t know where that is in relation to this city except the air has less heat there even on a muggy day, and I’m pretty sure the plants look different based on the leaves I’ve felt. But we don’t measure distance the way you do. We don’t travel the way you do.”
“Why not?”
“Because I grew up in the part of the world that was a broken battlefield. I can walk down the road and never be able to reach the neighboring village if it’s not a place that resonates with my heart, but I can cross a bridge and be in another part of the world. That’s the Ephemera I know.” Lee cocked his head. “Does it bother you that she told me some things about her people that she didn’t tell you?”
“Yes. The Shamans protect this city and its people.”
“Zhahar has the skills that earn the wages that allow them to stay in the city. If you couldn’t accept some of her…”
“Spiritual practices?”
Lee nodded. “Their lives would get a lot harder. Me? Not as much risk having me figure it out.”
“Unless the wound is so severe that Zeela must stay in the infirmary, I’ll convince Benham to let her return here. You and Kobrah—and Zhahar—will take turns watching over her. I’ll let you figure out what to tell Kobrah about Zhahar’s spiritual practices.”
“And Sholeh will help,” Lee reminded him. “She’s here too.”
“All right. In the meantime, the morning routine has been disrupted enough.”
“I had arranged with Zhahar to visit Vito this morning.”
Weight to this silence. “Why?”
“I think I can help him,” Lee said. “I think it would be better if you didn’t ask how. At least, not yet.”
Another silence. “Have you put in your eyedrops this morning?”
“No.”
“I’ll have Kobrah come and assist you, and escort you to the isolation cell where Vito is being held.”
“Thank you, Shaman.”
The door opened and closed and Lee was alone in his room.
The wound was showing through. Were they all feeling weak from blood loss? How badly was Zhahar hurt? Until she was able to come into view, there was no way for anyone to see the damage or help her.
A rap on his door, a token courtesy, since Handlers and Helpers could enter whenever they wanted to.
Kobrah entered. “Shaman said I was to help with the eyedrops and then take you to see Vito.”
“Yes.”
“Zhahar’s sister is in the infirmary. Knife wound.”
He heard something dangerous in Kobrah’s voice. “What happened to you, Kobrah?”
“The first Chayne hurt me, made something go wrong inside my head.”
Damn.
“Zhahar says you’re a good man, says you’re not a Chayne and I can trust you.”
“She’s right.” And he hoped with all that was in him that Kobrah believed it.
She stepped over to the dresser.
“The eyedrops are in the top right-hand drawer,” he said.
“I know.” She paused. “Can’t sit on the chair. There’s blood on the floor.”
Not good. If Zeela was still bleeding that much, it was not good.
“Sit on the bed. It’s just behind you.”
He felt for the bed and sat. She put in the eyedrops, as quick and gentle as Zhahar. While he sat with a damp, cool cloth over his eyes, she replaced the bottle in the dresser, and, based on what he was hearing, must have done a little tidying up while she waited. Then she led him to Vito.
They weren’t going to leave him alone with a restrained man—and he didn’t want them to. But he leaned over the bed and said quietly, “That place you saw the other day. Is that where you belong?”
“Yes,” Vito sobbed. “I found home. But it’s gone.”
“It wasn’t supposed to stay,” Lee said. “It was meant to be a chance for you to look, to let your heart feel.”
“I found home.”
“I don’t know if you’ll find that exact piece of the world, but I can help you find the place it came from.”
The sobs trailed off and finally stopped.
“You can find it?” Vito asked.
“I can give you a chance to find it. But the first thing you have to do is get well enough to be released from this room. There are steps you’ll have to take, things you’ll need to do. If you can do them, I’ll help you.”
Lee stepped back from the bed. “Could you take me to the temple? I’d like to spend some time there while we wait for news about Zeela.”
A pause. Then Kobrah said, “Yes, I’ll take you there.”
Ephemera flowed through the currents of power in this part of itself, waiting for the Lee-heart to find the new access point and cross over to the Music, waiting for Voice-guide to listen to another heart and help it shape a little making. She did not want it bringing other pieces of itself to this place, but she wouldn’t be unhappy with it if another Guide helped it make something new.
But the Lee-heart passed by the access point, not even looking when it pushed the stolen time above the ground. So it added violets to the access point. She always smiled when it made violets from the Music’s song.
Then Voice-guide approached the access point and picked up the stolen time, but didn’t take the step between here and there. So the world flowed through the currents of itself, both Light and Dark, changing little pieces of itself to match the resonance of the strongest hearts. And it waited.
Danyal and Benham watched Kobrah and Nik settle Zeela into Lee’s bed.
Benham turned away from the door and pitched his voice low. “You’re leaving a wounded woman in the hands of an inmate. Do you think that’s wise?”
“Maybe not, but it’s the choice I’m making,” Danyal replied absently, his mind preoccupied with the new planting in the flower bed between the inmates’ residence and the temple. Slipping his hand in the pocket of his white robe, he fingered the pocket watch that had pushed itself out of the ground as he studied the plants. He was still waiting for some response to his last report to the Council, but in all the years he’d been a working Shaman, and even during the years when he’d been training, he’d never heard of the world being this responsive, this active.
“I’ve overheard enough whispers lately to know many of the Handlers are wondering the same thing I am about Lee.”
“If he’s someone from The Temples. Not a Shaman, but someone who might be strongly connected.”
Danyal looked at Benham in surprise. “What makes you think that? Have you forgotten his uncles or how he came to the Asylum?”
“Oh, no one has forgotten that, especially since those men used to come by often to check on him but have suddenly stopped visiting. You treat him more like an injured colleague than an inmate, and after you dismissed those false Handlers and got him clean of the drugs they were giving him, he has acted more like someone who is used to being in charge. So there is speculation among the Handlers about who he really is. I thought you should know.”
“I appreciate that.” And it’s still a question I would like answered myself. Especially after seeing the latest change in the flower bed.
Tap tap. Tap tap.
They both turned as Lee tapped his way down the hallway.
“Lee,” Danyal said, giving him time to stop.
“Shaman.” Lee tipped his head. “Meddik Benham?”
“It seems your hearing has sharpened,” Benham said.
“And you wear a distinctive cologne,” Lee replied, smiling.
Kobrah and Nik stepped out of the room.
“See to your other duties now,” Danyal told them.
“And I’ll see to my other patients,” Benham said. “I left a dose of pain medicine on the dresser. If Zeela needs it, Handler Zhahar can give it to her.” He hesitated, then gave Danyal a nod—and gave Lee a searching look.
“Benham and others are speculating that we’re colleagues,” Danyal said.
Lee’s smile didn’t look easy or amused. “That’s true, since Landscapers and Bridges have complementary skills that help keep the world balanced.”
“I found another pocket watch on the ground beside some little purple flowers and a nightshade plant.” He had felt the power of tidal waves and avalanches when he’d looked at that plant. Noting the sudden tightness in Lee’s face, he asked, “Do you know it by another name?”
“Where I come from, we call it belladonna.”
“What does it mean, Lee?”
“That depends. Was there a heart’s hope plant in the same bed or nearby?”
Light. Hope. “I don’t know a plant by that name, but one I’ve never seen before appeared a few days ago. It seems to lift the spirits of everyone who walks by.”
Lee sighed. “Message received.”
“Lee?” Danyal’s voice sharpened.
“Let it go, Danyal. For now, let it go. Zeela needs care.”
“I’d like to speak to Zhahar.”
Lee felt his way to the door and into the room. “I’ll tell her. Wait here a few minutes.”
The door closed. A couple minutes later, Zhahar opened the door and slipped out of the room. She had dark circles under her eyes and moved like she was in pain.
“Shaman?”
“You’re relieved of all duties for today and tomorrow. Get some rest and tend your sister. There is pain medicine on the dresser.”
“Yes, Lee mentioned it.”
“Your sister Sholeh can take her meals in the Handlers’ dining hall.” When she nodded, he added, “I’ll take a cart and a couple of men back to your rooms and clear out the rest of your things before they’re stolen.”
She paled, and he wondered what she’d left behind.
“That isn’t necessary.”
“No, it’s not, but it will be done.”
“Thank you.”
Bright water. Summer lake. But the storm, the strength he usually felt in her was dimmed—but not, he hoped, failing. “Get some rest.”
She slipped back into the room.
Perhaps it was foolish to go back to a street that was clearly changing into something troubled, but…
Kindness is a gift to yourself as well as to another.
One of the basic lessons.
Thinking about the plants in the garden—the heart’s hope and the plant Lee called belladonna—Danyal had a feeling that when it truly mattered, every bit of kindness he gave was going to be counted.
Lee’s fingers brushed against Zhahar’s arm. “Sit down before you fall down.” He waited until she sat on the bed, then sat beside her. “How bad is it?”
“Lots of stitches. More than we’d thought there would be. Sholeh has withdrawn. She doesn’t deal well with the sight of blood.”
Must be interesting with the two of you as sisters, Lee thought. “Sholeh said you’re hurt too. How bad?”
“Oh, I’m not—”
“She said the wound was showing through. You can tell me what that means, or I can haul you to the infirmary.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“You’re in no shape to stop me.”
Two voices said some very bad words—and he was sure that, being a one-face, he couldn’t do a lot of what they were suggesting he do.
“That’s it.” He took a firm grip on her arm.
“No!” Zhahar slumped. Then she sucked in a breath. “I have a bruise in the same place as the knife wound. A bad bruise. People would ask too many questions if they saw it. But it’s not a cut or anything. Just a bruise.” She hesitated. “And I’m staying close enough to Zeela to support her, so right now someone could feel her stitches under my skin.”
“I see,” he said. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about supplying her sister with physical energy, life energy, or something else, but he wondered if Zeela would have survived this long if Zhahar hadn’t been taking on some of the effects of the wound.
“I put our money belt in the dresser under your other set of clothes,” Zhahar said. “I put the key to our rooms there too. You should give it to Shaman Danyal if he’s really going to fetch the rest of our things.”
“I’ll see that he gets the key. And the dresser is as good a place as any for the money belt right now.” Releasing her arm, he began rubbing her back, an easy motion meant to soothe and comfort. “What’s the best thing for you to do now? I think Zeela needs to be in view, since different people are going to be taking watch and Benham is bound to check on her. But we can slide around that if we need to.”
“If she wasn’t so hurt, it would be better for Zeela to stay submerged and rest, but if there was trouble, she might not be able to come back into view and get help in time.”
Which meant every minute she and Sholeh had been in view in the effort to get them to safety had put Zeela at risk. Had Zhahar and Sholeh also been at risk? Those kinds of questions would have to wait until he could get Sholeh alone—or as alone as any of them could be. The little sister could be coaxed into giving him more information than the other two.
“So except for meals, which Sholeh can eat for you…” He frowned. “Can she eat for all of you?”
“Yes, but don’t let her eat any spicy foods. Zeela and I aren’t up to dealing with the result when it reaches the other end.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Finally, “Got it. No spicy food for Sholeh. Anything else?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
He heard her voice slur from exhaustion. He continued to rub her back and felt her relax. She was still a dark blob in a room filled with gray light, but that showed him enough. Tipping her face toward his, he kissed her. Warmth and comfort. A physical reminder that she wasn’t alone.
“You can see me?” she asked when he eased back.
“A little,” he said, giving her the truth. “Dark shapes in gray light. But I’ve been kissing girls in the dark since I was fifteen, so I’ve had a bit of practice.” He kissed her again, adding a little heat. Not enough to stir her, but enough to give her something to think about.
That kiss stirred him plenty, though.
He stood up. “Get yourself settled in bed so Zeela can come into view.”
She did as she was told while he positioned the wooden chair near the end of the bed.
“Lee.”
Zeela’s vo
ice was slurred. He didn’t know if it was from the wound and loss of blood, or the pain, or the medicine they had given her for the pain.
His fingertips followed the edge of the bed until he found her hand. Her fingers closed around his, but there was no strength in her grip, and that worried him.
“Rest, Zeela. You can rest now.”
“Shaman. Going to our rooms. He’ll find things. About us. He’ll…”
“I don’t think he’ll find anything he can’t understand or accept. No matter what he finds, he won’t ask you to leave before you’re well enough to travel. And if he asks then, well, I know some people who could take a Tryad pretty much in stride. Although I can’t promise you won’t be pestered with questions.”
Zeela made an effort to smile. “If they offer fair exchange, Sholeh will answer questions every minute she’s in view.”
That was exactly what he was counting on. He had information about all kinds of landscapes he could put on the table in exchange for information about the Tryad.
“Well, then. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Her hand went lax. He listened to her breathing even out into what he hoped would be a healing sleep. Then he sat back and thought about the people he was growing to care about here—and the people he’d left behind.
Danyal walked down the street where Zhahar lived. Thin ice. Black slush. Dead trees. Spring flowers withering as they tried to grow.
He hoped it hadn’t felt that way all the time Zhahar had lived here.
His white robe told everyone watching from the street or doorways what he was. Some made a sign of blessing. An equal number saw him and, shrinking back, made a sign against evil.
What else had walked this street recently, hiding what it was? Or pretending to be something that it wasn’t?
In a few more days, he wasn’t sure any Shaman would be able to see this street anymore. Something else he needed to report to the Council.
When he reached the building where Zhahar had her rooms, he left Denys to watch the pony and cart while he and Nik took traveling bags and carry sacks up the stairs to Zhahar’s rooms.
Their rooms? She had, after all, lived here with her sisters.
Not much left behind, he thought as he scanned the front room and the little cooking area. But enough.