When he caught sight of her, standing in front of the Wryn, he schooled his face as the Nazarien had trained him and shoved the desperation somewhere deep inside of himself. He had to be strong for her. He couldn’t let her know he knew time was running out.
His attention was snagged by the Wryn, who stood in a line, making this high pitched keening sound and swaying back and forth with their eyes shut tight. He recognized grieving when he saw it and the hair on the nape of his neck rose.
Tyla came to him and guided him around the line of Wryn.
“When did that start?” he said.
“As soon as you left. It makes me shiver.”
They skirted the mourning Wryn and headed toward the entrance to the dome. As they wove down the tunnels and through the public domes, they encountered no more Wryn. All seemed to have joined the line outside or slipped away somewhere private to grieve.
“You suppose they know it’s futile to try to save him?” asked Jarrett, fighting the trembling in his legs. His back was beginning to ache.
“How could they? They didn’t even attempt to help him.”
“The Delphi took him to the refuse pile and dumped him, Tyla.”
She stopped walking and turned to look up at him. “What?”
“Keep going,” he gritted out, “I’m sort of dying here.”
She smiled, a look he stored away for later. “It’s hell getting older, isn’t it?”
He glared at her. “Just move, woman.”
She chuckled and started walking again. “That’s strange. The Delphi depend on the Wryn for their survival, but they treat them as dispensable? Maybe the Wryn have never thought to defy the Delphi before.”
They reached their private dome and she hurried to Jarrett’s shelf, pulling off the green blanket. “Lay him here,” she ordered and he allowed the Wryn’s weight to carry him onto the shelf. Together they pulled him until he was lying on his stomach again.
As Jarrett moved away, rubbing the small of his back with both hands, Tyla attacked the remains of the tunic, tearing it off. When she was done, she sat back and they both looked at the long, jagged tears in the creature’s pale green flesh. They could see through to the muscle fibers beneath.
“I need to clean and stitch these closed,” she said, pressing the skin with her fingers. Turning on the shelf, she looked up at him, her eyes bright, the emerald glowing at her throat. “I need hot water, hotter than the baths, and some of their green soap. And some more of the cloth squares they use as handkerchiefs.”
“How are you going to sew those closed?”
“I brought sutures and a needle. Jax got injured climbing out of here, I didn’t want to take chances. Do you think you can get a fire going and boil me water?”
“I can make fire, but I don’t know what I’ll use to boil it in.” He considered a moment. “I’ll find something. Can you start cleaning the wounds with the hot water from the baths if I get you one of the green bowls?”
“Yes, and the soap, but I need the boiling water for Stamerian to fight infection before I close the wounds.”
He hesitated. He used the little Stamerian they had to keep down her fever. He didn’t want to use it on anyone else, but he knew she’d never relent. She would use the last of everything she had to save this Wryn now that she’d settled on this course. They didn’t have enough time for him to argue logic with her.
“I’ll be right back,” he said and turned to go.
When he got into the public domes, he headed right instead of left. They’d never explored down this direction before. He came to a long tunnel that branched off every few hundred feet into smaller tunnels that disappeared beyond sight. He figured they probably led to the Wryn’s private domes.
Finally he came to a dome the size of the one where the Delphi held their strange council, however, this one was lined with shelves. The green globed fruit hung from hooks in the ceiling everywhere he look. Walking around the empty space, he saw shelves with neat rows of cutting tools lined up along the curved walls. A rack at the other end of the dome held long strips of the green globes. A set of four racks on a shelf stored the bowls. When Jarrett reached out to touch one, he found it wet and spongy, but the very next one over had begun to harden. He turned and looked at the hanging green globes. He suddenly understood. The green globes were their food and their clothing, their building materials and their cooking utensils. Staring at the many racks, he figured the various functions came about by the way the globes were cured.
He searched the room over and found a smaller hallway behind a row of racks. This hallway led to two different domes, smaller than the previous one, but about four times bigger than the personal one he and Tyla had been given. Inside the first were shelves holding the fabric. A strange loom dominated the floor and held a piece of woven cloth like the blankets he and Tyla used. Behind it was a wooden stump that functioned as a stool.
Each unit of shelves held different things. The first held the tunics they’d been given, the second, neatly folded piles of trousers, a third shelf held blankets, and on a fourth were the cloths they used as handkerchiefs. Jarrett grabbed a handful of these and then left the dome, turning into the second one.
This one contained the cooking utensils, stacks of small green bowls and taller bowls that looked almost like mugs. He found huge spoon shaped devices that he assumed they used for stirring and a couple of large round bowls with narrow mouths that looked like they could hold water.
Searching through the shelves, he found a jug shaped bowl that had a more open mouth. Taking that and another water jug, he hurried back into the tunnels and made his way into the main dome that housed all of their green globes. He dubbed this the workroom and circling around it, he found a spigot like in the bathing chamber, which he turned. Warm water gushed out, so he filled both jugs and carried them back down the tunnels to their private dome. He set one of the jugs by Tyla. She had already retrieved the soap from the bathing chamber.
“Start with that,” he said, handing her the cloths. “I’ll go build a fire and see if this will stand up to the flames.”
She nodded distractedly at him and set to cleaning the tears in the Wryn’s flesh.
Jarrett went back outside. The line of grieving Wryn had begun to break up, most of them wandering toward the domes. He set his pot down and hurried into the woods beyond the city to collect dried branches from beneath the trees. He piled those by the pot and went back to gather small rocks, forming a basket out of the front of his tunic.
He made a circle with the rocks to the right of the dome and then carefully arranged the wood inside it. Using the pycantra starter from Tyla’s pack, he got the kindling going, then hunkered down to wait while the fire got hot. Grabbing the jug, he pulled out his knife and tried to widen the mouth with it. He found the material allowed him to saw away a portion of the lip without it coming apart in his hands.
Once the fire had burned down to embers, he settled the jug inside the fire-ring and waited for the water to heat. As he waited, he noticed some of the Wryn had come back outside, drawn toward the fire. They milled around, making strange sounds and pointing. He ignored them until Zimran appeared.
“Jer-rid, quild facens?” He pointed at the fire and the pot.
“Heating water,” said Jarrett. Then a thought struck him. He ran back into the domes and grabbed another few handkerchiefs, a stirring spoon, and a smaller water jug. Carrying them to the fire, he found Zimran poking a stick at the coals.
He settled his stuff on the ground and touched Zimran’s shoulder. Making an eating motion with his fingers, he said, “Comedetus?” Then pointed back at the domes. He rubbed his hand against his belly and made another eating motion. “Comedetus.”
Zimran’s white brows drew down in a frown, but when Jarrett pointed at the kitchen dome again, recognition dawned. He nodded and patted Jarrett’s shoulder. “Comedetus,” he said and hurried off.
Jarrett used the handkerchiefs to pull the pot off the
fire. The water was boiling inside and the bottom of the pot had turned a dark, forest-green, hardening like pottery. He carefully maneuvered around the milling Wryn, who were studying him, and carried the pot into the domes. More Wryn had gone back to their usual chores and he had to dodge them as he made his way to his private dome.
Tyla was huddled over the Wryn, sewing with absolute concentration when he settled the pot by her feet. She glanced up, then nodded at her open medicinal pouch. “Put Stamerian in that,” she ordered.
He added the Stamerian, but he deliberately kept back enough to use on her when the next fever spike came. He watched her sewing for a minute, then shifted weight. “Do you need help?”
She shook her head, never meeting his eye. He returned to his fire and found Zimran waiting for him with two bowls of green glop. Taking the bowls, he forced a smile for the Wryn.
“Thank you,” he said, then dumped the bowls into the smaller pot and placed it on the fire. Using the spoon, he stirred the food and watched the Wryn watch him. They were fascinated and terrified by the fire. They would move toward it, until they felt its heat, then they’d dance away again. Their reaction made him smile.
His thoughts turned to the injured Wryn and he wondered what had caused the tears in his flesh. It looked like an animal, but he hadn’t seen any other creatures since they arrived. He also wondered at the callous way the Delphi had disposed of their comrade without even trying to save him. How could a society have so many advances, but lack in so many others? It baffled him.
When the green glop started bubbling, he poured it back into the two bowls and kicked dirt on the embers to put them out, then he carried the bowls into their private dome. Tyla was washing the Wryn’s back with Stamerian. He settled the two bowls on the table and took a seat on Tyla’s shelf.
She finished and sat back, clasping the damp cloth in her hand. “That’s all I can do for now.”
He nodded and reached for a bowl, holding it out to her. “Try this,” he said. “I heated it.”
She took the bowl and looked at it dubiously. “I’m not sure I can eat, I’m so tired.”
He tamped down the desperation that always seemed to lie just beneath the surface any more. “Please, sweetheart,” he urged. “Try it for me. Please.”
She dipped two fingers into the mixture and lifted them to her lips, taking a tentative taste. Then she exhaled and took a larger bite. “That’s much better,” she said. “Wow, I can’t believe something as simple as heating it makes such a difference.”
Jarrett smiled at her, then reached for his own bowl, but his eyes fixed on the rocks sitting on the table. Something as simple, he thought and picked up a rock instead.
* * *
Kalas woke in the middle of the night. Reaching out, he felt across the bed for Ellette, but her side was empty. He opened his eyes and rolled over, sitting up and looking around. Moonlight shone through the balcony door and the roar of the ocean filled the room.
She was sitting in an armchair, pulled close beside the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. She wore his shirt, but her legs and feet were bare, her hair falling over one eye. She didn’t say anything, just watched him as he edged over to the side of the bed so he could be closer to her.
Something kept him from reaching out to her. Perhaps it was the way she sat, curled up tight, or the somber expression on her face, but he knew she was waging a battle that had little to do with him. Guilt washed over him. He hadn’t given much thought to the aftermath of their lovemaking.
“Hey,” he said, feeling it was a weak opening, but not sure how to approach this.
Moonlight gilded her features, making them soft and delicate. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it. Can’t you sleep?”
She exhaled, her shoulders lowering with the motion. “No, I feel too confused.”
“Confused?” He wasn’t sure he’d expected that emotion.
She pushed the hair away from her eye. “I have been trying to think how to explain it, but I am not sure I have the words.”
He did touch her then, reaching out to tuck the wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “Sometimes when I don’t have the words, I just start talking anyway and they come to me.”
She took his hand and wrapped her fingers around it. “I do not want to be one of your Nazarien pets.”
He frowned. Leaning closer to her, he said softly, “What?”
“Like Dolan and Attis.”
A laugh slipped out. He couldn’t help it. She gave him a severe look, but he couldn’t help his amusement. He traced the vein in her wrist with his thumb. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
She was not amused. In fact, she looked tormented. “You cannot understand.”
“Then make me.”
She released his hand and curled her arms around her knees again. “Nazarien women would never presume to do what I did. They do not choose men, they are chosen, taken…abused.” She said the last with such vehemence, Kalas looked down.
“I’m sorry, Ellette. I should have been more sensitive.”
She didn’t answer for a long while and Kalas glanced up in concern. She was frowning at him. “You are daft sometimes, you know?”
He blinked in astonishment. “Daft?”
She exhaled again as if she found him tiresome. “Yes, daft. Do you think I did not understand the choice I was making? I knew what would happen when I brought you here. I just never thought…” Her voice faltered.
“You never thought what?”
She pressed her fingers against her heart. “After Bredon and his men tortured us, I thought I wanted to die. Then when I lived, I wanted revenge – that is all. I cared nothing for my life. I wanted them to suffer. I wanted to destroy them.”
Kalas clenched his jaw. Here was a woman who had known only cruelty and abuse at the hands of men, and he was no better. Dolan had tried to warn him, but he’d ignored it. His face flushed with shame, but he didn’t speak, he didn’t want her to stop sharing her pain with him.
“When they decided to attack you, I thought I was protecting my people, the Nazar and the other Nazarien women by trying to save you, but I always planned to go back. To have my revenge. I still cared little whether I lived. The revenge gave me strength, it gave me purpose. For so many years, it has been what has guided me.”
Kalas lowered his head and closed his eyes. He didn’t know how to take back what had happened between them. He didn’t know how to make this right. There was no right. From now on, he would be lumped in with men like Bredon Laurel in her mind.
“Until now,” she said.
He looked up in surprise.
Her eyes glistened with tears in the moonlight. He’d never seen a Nazarien show such emotion, such vulnerability. It stunned him, humbled him.
She dragged her teeth across her lower lip and dropped her feet to the floor, moving to the edge of the chair. Reaching out, she took his hands. “You make me believe there’s more than revenge. You make me want more.”
He tightened his hold on her. Somehow he’d misread what she felt, or else he hadn’t really been listening to her. He was as daft as she thought him, daft and as blind as his father had been.
“You’ve already gotten revenge, Ellette. Can’t you see that? By living, by surviving, you’ve beaten them.” He brushed her hair back and ran his fingers across her cheek. “By choosing me tonight, you walked away from that path.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently, sweetly, drawing her toward him until she was nestled on his lap. “And I may be daft, but I’m pretty damn happy you did.”
She clasped her hands around his neck and gave him a searching look. “I am not one of your pets. We need to establish that tonight.”
He collapsed back on the bed, rolling to his side, so they faced each other. “You’re not?” he teased, bringing his mouth close to hers. “We know you aren’t an assassin, so I’m a little confused as to what you are.”
She closed the dist
ance between them, drawing him against her and kissing him breathless. “Really? You are confused?”
A mischievous grin curled his lips and he rolled to his back, pulling her over on him. “No,” he said, sinking his hands in her hair. “I’m most definitely not confused anymore.”
He could have sworn she smiled at him, but in the next minute, he didn’t have time to wonder at it.
CHAPTER 19
“Please, Tyla, drink this.”
Tyla forced open her eyes. They burned and ached as she blinked to clear them. She found herself lying on the shelf in the back of their room, but she’d thrown the blankets off. A heaviness lay on her chest, making breathing difficult. In fact, she was afraid to take too deep of a breath that she would start coughing.
Jarrett helped her into a sitting position and brought the cup to her lips. She tried to hold it herself, but her hands shook. Warm Stamerian touched her lips and she let it pass her tongue. As it soothed a path down her throat, she felt the heaviness abate a little.
Once the cup was empty, Jarrett lowered it. She allowed him to settle her back on the shelf and she rolled to her side. It was easier to breathe on her side, but as soon as she moved, she noticed the other sleeping shelf was empty.
“Where did he go?”
Jarrett glanced over his shoulder as well, then back at her. “When I woke up, he was gone.”
She felt a pang of loss, but she didn’t have the strength to get up and go in search of the wounded Wryn. Not now. She knew the disease had moved into the last, final stage. Her strength would begin to wane and the coughing would take over, leaving her vomiting blood until she bled to death. Then Jarrett would be infected and it would all be for nothing – leaving her son and her grandfather, leaving Temeron, leaving Kalas – it meant nothing now.
Looking into Jarrett’s eyes, she could see the fear there. Her vision blurred with tears. He would have been better off in Chernow, safe and ignorant of her death, but he was here now, exposed to the disease. They’d admitted they still loved one another, but wouldn’t it have been better to leave him alone, believing that what they once felt was gone? He was just going to lose her again, this time permanently.
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 81