"Hey, Lei, isn't that you?" Heluma said, but Leilani had already stumbled up from her chair and ran toward the boy.
"What happened to Lana?" she asked. Her heart was beating frantically.
"She collapsed in front of one of the vats. The doctor told me to fetch her mother."
Leilani closed her eyes briefly, then turned to Heluma. "Tell the boss what happened. I have to go."
Heluma nodded and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it."
Leilani nodded and then ran back inside to get her bag.
"I'm sure she'll be okay, Lei," Heluma said before Leilani left.
Leilani didn't say anything, but she prayed as she followed the boy through the narrow city streets.
The doctor, a stout man in the traditional gray embroidered robes of his profession, made her sit down and take some tea before he would discuss Lana's condition. She waited impatiently-she had seen Lana sleeping on a cot in the infirmary, but still worry gnawed at her stomach.
"To be perfectly straightforward, your daughter is very sick." His voice and manner were calm, as though he were discussing something of significantly less importance. Leilani's breath caught in her throat. "I don't know how long this condition has persisted, but she is clearly exhausted and the chemicals at the vats have irritated her throat and lungs to a point near poisoning. She has, at the moment, a dangerously high fever."
"Is she dying?" Leilani's throat felt strangled as the words left her mouth.
He pursed his lips. "I've seen much worse cases come through. There is a medicine I could provide that would probably guarantee it-especially regarding the situation with her lungs and throat-but it's quite expensive. I get it exclusively from a trader on Kalakoas and it is very difficult to come by." He looked at Leilani's second-hand attire appraisingly. "I'm afraid it may be above your means," he said.
She felt pins of anger in her chest. "Don't make assumptions. How much is it?"
He raised his eyebrows. "A week's supply, in her condition, would cost around a thousand kala."
Leilani felt herself shaking and tried to stop. A thousand kala was more than she made in a month at the lounge. Barely that much money remained from the small stash that she had brought with her from her home island. But this man seemed to be telling her that Lana was dying. She would simply have to find some way to get the money, no matter how difficult it was. For now, at least, she could pay for the first week.
"I'll come with the money later this evening, for the first week's supply." Her voice shook as she said it, but she knew it couldn't be helped.
The man looked surprised but nodded after a brief moment.
"As you will. For now, let's get your daughter home."
Some men from the infirmary carried Lana home on a piece of heavy canvas stretched between two poles. As they neared the docks, one of the men tripped over something in the road, and Lana nearly tumbled off.
"Be careful!" Leilani snapped. The man muttered an apology and adjusted his grip on the wood. Beside him, a woman in a heavy yellow cloak whom Leilani hadn't noticed before bent over and picked something up from among the littered seashells on the main road.
"I think this is hers," she said. Her gravelly voice made Leilani oddly uncomfortable. She leaned in closer to see what the woman held. To her surprise, she recognized the bright azure mandagah jewel that Lana had harvested during her initiation. Why had she been carrying that with her? Leilani had always thought that she kept the jewel in her trunk.
Leilani forced a smile. "Why, thank you." She took the jewel back and put it in her pocket.
"I hope your daughter recovers. It takes a special person to harvest a jewel like that."
The woman's tone was almost acquisitive, but her smile was sincere enough. Leilani forced herself to be civil. "Oh," she said. "Are you a diver?"
The woman gave a dry chuckle and shook her head. "No, no. Just a connoisseur."
And with that, the woman gave Leilani a brusque nod and seemed to melt back into the crowd. She stood still for a confused moment, and then, shaking her head, followed the men back to her apartment. She ran up the stairs when they reached the boarding house and rolled out a sleeping mat. She tried to make it as comfortable as possible, but she was painfully aware of its insufficiency. How could she have allowed this to happen to her daughter? Tears ached in her throat, but she forced them down. One of the men picked Lana up and settled her in the bed. After the men had left, she allowed herself to cry for half an hour. Then, she put a pitcher of water and a glass by the bed and went to get the money. Clutching the bit of twine heavy with strung-together stone coins, she left to give away all of their savings for a chance to save her daughter's life.
Lana came to very gradually. The bed felt familiar, but she couldn't remember how she had gotten home.
"Mama?" she said. Her voice was a scratchy whisper, and even that small sound made her throat feel as though some animal was clawing at it. What had happened? Suddenly, she remembered the coughing fit and collapsing on the floor. She felt horrible, like she might pass out again at any moment. She lifted her head a little to see if her mother was there and then fell back on the pillow, exhausted. She was alone. Her mother had left some water by the bed for her, but she wasn't sure if she had the energy to drink it. I must be sick, she thought. She certainly felt sick, but for some reason it hadn't seemed like a possibility before. She had just begun to drift off again when her mother opened the door.
Her face was pale and her back was unnaturally straight, as though she might collapse if she relaxed it. Lana wondered what had happened. Leilani looked at her and then ran to the bed.
"You're awake! How do you feel?" She set a small bag down on the floor and pulled the covers up over Lana. "Do you want some water?"
Lana let her mother tip some water down her throat and leaned back against her pillow when she had had enough. When had she ever felt this weak? She didn't recognize her own body, and she hated her helplessness. Ever since they had left the island, everything in her life had gone careening out of control, and she didn't know how to get it back again.
"Mama," she began to say, but Leilani shushed her.
"You don't have to say anything. I know it hurts. Here, I bought you some medicine that will help. You'll get better soon, Lana. I promise."
Her mother was scared. This realization ought to frighten her, Lana thought, but instead she found it comforting. Her mother was no longer the infallible goddess of her youth-she was human, and scared, and trying to hide it, and Lana loved her. Leilani stood up and took out a judicious amount of a dried green herb from the bag and used it to brew tea. She poured a cup, waited until it had cooled enough, and then sat patiently beside Lana again.
"You have to drink all of it. It probably won't taste very good, though, so I'm sorry."
Lana shook her head and drank the whole thing obediently, even when it hurt her throat to swallow. The warmth briefly stopped her shivers, and made her feel sleepy.
"Mama," she said again as Leilani gently smoothed her hair away from her forehead. "I'll be all right."
Two tears, unmistakable, streaked their way down her mother's cheeks. "I'm sure you will, Lana. You should sleep."
So she did.
The man had been propositioning Leilani for weeks. It started with broad winks and suggestive hand gestures that had become progressively vulgar as time went on. Heluma, she knew, did the occasional sexual favor for extra cash, but the idea had always been repugnant to Leilani. She wanted nothing to do with the weatherbeaten, self-assured merchant, no matter how many expensive chains he wore around his neck. As her supply of the precious medicine dwindled, however, and she was faced with the impossible prospect of finding a thousand extra kala, she began to consider it. She forced herself past her own nausea to smile at the merchant as she served him sour palm wine, or refilled his hookah bowl with mid-grade amant. Sometimes, she even brushed his shoulder suggestively with her arm as she left. He responded t
o her slightly less frosty behavior with even more obscene propositions.
"I want you in my bed, Lei," he growled the night before she ran out of the medicine. He was on his third bowl of amant. He was impeccably dressed, as usual, but the way his slicked-back graying hair shone in the lamplight made her feel nauseous. Heluma clearly thought he was a good prospect-unhandsome, but not unappealing, and clearly wealthy. But Leilani felt ill at even the thought of going to bed with him. "Why d'you think I've been coming to this crummy place every night for the past three weeks? I've got plenty enough money to frequent more high-class establishments." He rattled his chains suggestively.
Leilani was thinking of Lana, who was getting better enough to talk for a few sentences without coughing. What would happen if she ran out of the medicine?
"For a price," she said.
He looked at her appraisingly. "Now that's what I like to hear. How much? You've kept me away for so long, I'll pay anything."
"A thousand kala," she said, and could hardly believe her audacity when the amount left her mouth. What humble hostess in a third-rate sailor establishment could possibly hope for such a large amount?
He looked surprised as well, but then narrowed his eyes. "You have guts, Lei, I'll tell you that. You think you're worth so much? Well, for a thousand kala it would have to be the whole night. You'll have to do whatever I want."
The back of Leilani's mouth filled with the taste of vomit, but he had agreed. A thousand kala. She could buy enough medicine for another week. She nodded. "My shift is over in an hour."
He smiled. "This will be a night to remember." He took a long pull on the pipe and blew the smoke into her face.
He took her to an inn with clean sheets and a proprietor who looked the other way when rich guests with anonymous partners booked rooms. He took his time with her, kissing and touching her far more gently than she would have expected. At first, she went through the motions numbly and struggled not to be sick. But then, unexpectedly, she felt herself respond physically to his caresses, even while she cursed him in her mind. It seemed to her like the worst sort of betrayal-it was one thing for her to give her body to another man, but to enjoy it? Her moans occurred somewhere halfway between pleasure and grief. It seemed to go on forever, no matter how she tried to speed it along. She felt crushed by him, horrified by both his and her own desire. Before tonight, she had only been with one man in her entire life, a man she was completely in love with. Was this how sex was for most women? Pleasure without love? How could she ever tell Kapa of what she was doing, of what she'd had to do-even if it was for the sake of their daughter? She felt as if she were dying when he finished, despite the fact that she had taken every necessary precaution earlier.
He came at her all night long. All she wanted to do was leave, melt away, and she couldn't because he was on top of her again, and she couldn't even tell which one of them was gasping in pleasure. And then, finally, it was all over. Sated at last, he rolled onto the other side of the bed. She shook him awake.
"The money," she said. Her voice was flat.
His cold gray eyes looked amused. He levered himself upright, reached into his purse, and tossed the coins on the bed.
"You were all right. I figured you'd have more stamina, though," he said as he collapsed on the bed again. She struggled into her clothes and put the money in her pocket.
Outside the building, she ducked into an alley and vomited violently. Then she went to find the doctor.
4
HE WOMAN HAD SETTLED HERSELF in an abandoned stall in the Alley, one of the less-than-savory market streets near the Eastern harbor. The previous occupant, a taxidermist of chimeras and exotic creatures, had succumbed to the bloody cough that was spreading relentlessly among the less respectable denizens of the docks. A few blocks from her stall in the Alley was Opona Street, where the better-patronized vendors hawked their more respectable wares, from bolts of brightly colored silk worth thousands of kala each to increasingly rare mandagah jewels. Those wishing for items of a less decorous nature went to the Alley. Fortune-tellers and apothecaries, prostitutes and bear-baitersthey crowded the wide, dirty street, clamoring for business with pitches as vulgar as they were amusing. Which made it an ideal location for the one-armed woman to set up shop. Indeed, she caused barely a ripple among those whose job it was, unofficially of course, to monitor the Alley. Just another self-styled fortuneteller plying her trade-strange about her arm, perhaps, but not worth any undue commentary. So long as she paid her tithe to the Alley Master, she was free to do as she pleased. If her business was especially slow, it was far more logical to blame it on the weather or her location than on halfhearted salesmanship. After all, why would she go through the trouble of setting up a stall if she had no interest in turning a profit?
The one-armed woman did, of course, intend to turn a profit, but perhaps not the kind that her neighbors expected. It had taken some time for to find the girl again after that night, but after a bit of judicious inquiry the woman-who, for the past several years of her search, had taken to calling herself Akua-had found the girl's mother. Leilani's exotic good looks had attracted the interest of several men who frequented her hookah lounge (the same kind of men, it turned out, who frequented the Alley). Her accent was that of the outer islands, and her dark skin and proud bearing made many speculate that she had been one of the legendary mandagah divers. She had a daughter, one young sailor had told Akua as she felt his skull-a young girl who worked the vats at a laundry and nearly died of the bloody cough. She might have a husband too, but if so, he wasn't around to disapprove of the way his wife had been raising money of late-prostituting herself to the highest bidder. That little fact, tossed her way so offhandedly as a trivial piece of gossip, had piqued Akua's interest. She now understood that Leilani was a desperate woman, and desperate people were easy to exploit: you only had to give them what they wanted.
Akua's scrying had told her to come here to Okika City in the first place, but scryings were unreliable. She had been truly surprised (for the first time in many years) when she had chanced upon the young girl that night and discovered just how suitable she would be. She was quiet and she held herself closely, but the one-armed woman could, nevertheless, sense the untapped depths within her. Some great power had marked this girl, but she was still too young and naive to know how to protect herself.
She was a treasure hidden in plain sight: an innocent holder of unknowable power. Soon, Akua would have her.
Leilani pulled the conical straw hat farther over her head and hurried through the rain. The light drizzle of the past few days had turned into a nearly respectable downpour-something she might have enjoyed from the relative comfort of her apartment, but which made her curse now. The offices of the city doctor were in the governing district, a half-hour walk from the Eastern harbor. Since Lana had become ill, Leilani had learned that there were dockside healers who would probably charge far less for their services, but she had seen too many people by the docks die of the cough to trust them. No matter how much it cost her, she had to take care of Lana. She reached the octagonal brick-and-granite building several minutes later, and walked around to the garden side, where a few still-burning lamps made strange shadows dance on the wet grass. She walked to the oak door and knocked three times. Almost immediately, she heard heavy footsteps and then the door opened.
The familiar smell and warmth of the place enveloped her as the doctor ushered her inside. It smelled of clean sheets and the nose-clearing tang of healing balms, all mixed with the sweetness of fresh-cut orchids-an acknowledgment of the doctor's patronage by the council as an officially sanctioned healer. Most of the staff had gone home by this time, and the hallway was empty as he led her to the relatively small room where they stored their medicines.
"How's the child?" he asked as he lit the lamps on the wall.
Leilani sighed. "Better. She's still weak though-I worry that she's going to overexert herself from boredom."
He fingered the
various jars and sachets of dried herbs before he alighted on one. He pulled the rough homespun cloth bag off the shelf and carefully tilted some of its contents into another, smaller one.
"This should do for another week," he said, handing the bag to her. "If there's any change in her condition, let me know and I'll do what I can ..." he trailed off when she reached into her pocket and pulled out a money purse.
"Here," she said, untying the strings and carefully counting out ten plum-sized, rose-colored coins into his palm. "This week's thousand," she said. There was a slight breathiness to her voice, but otherwise she gave no outward appearance of agitation.
Still, the doctor looked at her sadly, almost pityingly, and Leilani cringed. Ever since this ordeal had first begun he had looked at her this way, but today it was somehow more damning. But what else could she do, after all? Let her daughter die?
After a tense moment, he handed three of the coins back to her. "I gave you less this week. You don't owe so much."
Leilani stared at him. She knew how much he had given her. He knew it too, but for whatever reason, he had decided to pretend otherwise. She felt a brief surge of anger-she had the money, after all-but it passed away quickly. It was merely a gesture of kindness-born out of pity perhaps, but who was she to refuse it? After an instant's struggle, she pocketed the coins.
"Leilani," he said just before she turned to leave. "Please ... be careful. Women with lesser hearts than yours have found this city's hard edge fatal."
Leilani tightened her lips and nodded. Throat aching, she turned around and walked as quickly as she could toward the door, heedless of etiquette or even safety.
Kapa, she thought to herself, when she had exited into the blanketing rain. When will I see you again? When will this all be over?
Racing the Dark Page 8