“I need to sleep,” she said, forcing a smile for his benefit. She could feel the tickling of the cough in the back of her throat.
“All right, sweetheart,” he answered, bending over her and kissing her forehead. “I’m going to explore a bit. I won’t be far and I’ll be back in an hour or so, but I want to see if I can find any of the things Jax described.”
She wanted to tell him it wouldn’t do any good now, it was too late, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t take this last bit of hope from him. She was afraid to speak, so she just nodded and let her eyes fall closed.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered in her ear, then he was gone.
As the Stamerian moved through her body and eased the fever, she allowed sleep to claim her. She dreamed of Temeron, the golden hills rising around the city, the shimmer of the houses in the dying light of the day, the happy cacophony of sound as the Stravad greeted each other at the market.
She could see Kerrin laughing as he splashed water on Tyne, the sun kissing his brown skin, sparkling in his blue eyes. Beside her, Jarrett watched them, a half-smile on his face, an expression he wasn’t even aware he’d made. So much to live for, so much to cherish, so much to be grateful for, even if it had been only for a while.
As she dreamed, a white mist stole into the scene, obscuring everything, the lake, the mountains, her family. She didn’t fear it as she had before, but she turned around, watching everything disappear, slide away into a memory.
“You shouldn’t be here,” came a voice behind her.
She turned and smiled at her father. She’d always thought Kalas had beautiful eyes, but it was so clear they were very much like her father’s eyes. He’d told her she favored her mother the last time she’d met him here. It delighted her to think that.
“I’m dying,” she told him. She needed to tell someone, relieve the burden of it.
He frowned. “How?”
“I have a disease.”
“Explain it.”
She smiled again. Always the healer. She had gotten that from him, that need, that drive to cure someone. “It’s passed through exposure to infected blood, well, mine was. The first case was caused by a cut. The man’s leg became infected and we amputated it, but it was too late.”
“Something in the soil, most likely. Nevaisser is rife with such diseases. When I was in Kazden, I would treat a catarrh that would crop up each year with the rains. Humans were vulnerable to it. They died of fever, dehydration.”
“What caused it? What was in the soil?”
Talar shrugged. “I was never certain, but the rain brought it to the surface. Most of Nevaisser was volcanic at one time. I always suspected it was pycantra, blown into dust and leached into the soil, the groundwater.”
She thought of Jax’s description of the glittering dirt that made his hands tingle. Was her father right? Had the answer been there all along? But even if they found the cause, what could possibly be the cure?
“How did you treat the Humans with the catarrh?”
“I made a restorative.” He looked away in confusion. “I wish I remembered what was in it. It boosted their own immune system so they could fight it. Some still died. I always thought I could neutralize it, find something to counteract the symptoms. If one type of pycantra caused the disease, another might cancel it out.”
She stored that thought away. If only she had time to explore his ideas, if only she wasn’t already sick. She came forward and took his hand, not wanting to spend this precious time talking about her. Whether this was the product of her fevered mind or some trick of the emerald, she didn’t want to think about it too much. These few moments with him were all she would ever have, and she didn’t care whether they were illusion or not, she wanted to cherish them.
“I don’t want to waste time talking about that.”
He searched her face, absorbing her every feature. “You don’t want to talk about your life?”
“No, I want to know about you. I want you to tell me everything you remember.”
“I’m not certain that’s much. I remember traces of things, but nothing complete.” He lifted his head and looked around. “Besides, this place has always depressed me.”
She folded his hand in both of hers and laughed. “I don’t think you have much choice in that.”
“No, I think you’re wrong.” He made a motion with his hand and the mist whispered away, revealing a few tall, broad-limbed pine trees.
Her mouth dropped open in astonishment.
He turned and surveyed his work. With another motion of his hand, he swept the mist out of the sky, revealing a brilliant blue. “I spent far too much of my life in darkness.” Sunlight filtered down through the limbs on the trees.
Tyla didn’t know how to respond. She wished she could create life with a pass of her hand.
He motioned at the ground. “How about grass?”
A rolling field opened up before them, undulating in gentle hills of green and spreading beneath the trunks of the trees.
“I’ve always liked water.” He drew a hand across the horizon and a brook appeared, bubbling over rocks and across tree roots. A few pink flowers pushed up through the field, bending toward the sunlight.
Tyla released her held breath and looked around. A lush meadow bled down into a forest and stopped at the brook. The other side of the brook was shadowed, but Talar didn’t seem to mind, tugging on her hand and pulling her behind him.
He strolled down the hills toward the stream until they came to the bank, then he released her and hunkered down, lazily sweeping his hand through the water. Tyla knelt at his side and cupped the water, bringing it to her lips. It was cold and sweet, soothing the ache in her throat.
He leaned back on an elbow and studied her as she surveyed the world he’d created. “You can’t stop fighting,” he said.
She glanced over at him. “I don’t think I have any choice. The disease has progressed too far. There’s not enough time to find a cure.”
“Your mother and I didn’t sacrifice everything to have you die young. You have to fight this, Tyla.”
She shifted so she could face him. “Tell me about my mother.”
His expression clouded over and he appeared to try, but finally he shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t remember.”
“But you keep bringing her up? How can that be?”
He held up a hand and let it fall again. “You can’t attach logical reasoning to this. I haven’t been given the right to know how this works or to give you the answers you seek. This is all that we have.”
Her spirit fell and she reached up to grasp the emerald. “And all that we have is an illusion, isn’t it? We aren’t really here together?”
He sat up and folded his arms on his knees. “I’m dead, Tyla. You’re not. We are meeting at the middle point between the two. Don’t confuse this, don’t make it more than it is. It isn’t time for you to cross into my realm, any more than I can cross into yours.”
She looked around at the scene he’d created and sighed. “I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if this is what I get to experience.”
He frowned at her. “There is a purpose for life, Tyla. A purpose for living. Do not forfeit that so easily.”
She gave him a weary, sad smile. “Just like you said, I haven’t been given the right to make that decision any more than you have, Father.”
* * *
Allistar pinched the bridge of his nose and thrust the manifests away. “It would be easier if I could read the language.”
Kalas gave him an understanding smile and leaned back in his chair. “If you can find the word Delure in any of their records, we can confront the ships captains and demand they show us the island.”
“And you’re sure they’d have recorded it?”
Kalas held up an empty hand and let it fall again. “It’s all I’ve got, Allistar.”
Allistar nodded, then reached for the manifest again and began searching, running a finger along the line
s.
Kalas moved to return to his own search, but the door to his study opened and Dolan walked through. He glanced at both of them, then focused his attention on Kalas. “Your Majesty, a word?”
Kalas placed the letter opener in his document to hold his place and closed it. Allistar looked between them, then pushed himself to his feet. “I think I’ll take a walk down to the docks and see if I can find anyone who will admit to knowing about the island.”
“How will you communicate with them?”
“Can I take that idiot Cult member of yours, Attis?”
“Of course, he ought to intimidate them into cooperating.”
Allistar shrugged. “At least that would be worth something.”
Kalas chuckled and watched Allistar leave the room, then he pushed himself to his feet and turned his back on Dolan, walking toward the double doors that looked over the ocean. The day was calm and beautiful, the sun shimmering on the breakers. The sky was a deep, velveteen blue without a single cloud to mar it.
He could see Dolan move close from the corner of his eye. The Nazarien had his hands clasped behind him and he gave no emotion away, but Kalas could sense his tension. “What do you want to say, Dolan? After all these years, we really don’t need to stand on ceremony with each other.”
Dolan considered this for a moment, then cleared his throat. “You should not take the Nazarien assassin, Ellette, to your bed.”
Kalas turned to face him, surprised, even though he’d suspected this was what Dolan wanted to discuss. “I suppose you have a reason.”
Dolan didn’t look nearly as uncomfortable as Kalas felt. Once again, Kalas was amazed by that Nazarien implacability. “I have many reasons, but the first is she’s Nazarien. You are a Human king. Ultimately, your duty will be to find a suitable Human wife among the nobility and marry to procure heirs. I have ignored your previous dalliances, but this one I cannot ignore. She is not for you.”
Kalas crossed his arms, trying to appear as composed as his Advisor. “I have no intention of taking a wife, especially not from the nobility. And to be frank with you, Dolan, this subject is none of your business.”
“Everything to do with you as King of Eastern Nevaisser is my business.”
“Don’t think of me as a king right now. What happens between Ellette and me is off-limits.”
“She is damaged goods, Kalas.”
Kalas blinked in surprise. Dolan never used his first name, never called him anything but Your Majesty. His expression softened. “So am I, Dolan, so am I. We suit each other.”
“You are not damaged in the way she is. Eldon’s blood, she became an assassin. She planned to kill for a living. You will never be able to trust her.”
Kalas uncrossed his arms. “But I already have.” He came forward and laid a hand on Dolan’s shoulder. “You and I have been through much, Dolan. You have been my most trusted advisor all these years and I consider you my closest friend. I would never do anything to harm our relationship, but this is something I don’t think you can fully understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is between a man and a woman…”
“Ellette is not a woman, she is Nazarien.”
Kalas tightened his grip. “She is a woman, Dolan, the woman I want to share my bed and more than that, I think she may be the one I want to share my life with too.”
“Your people will never accept her.”
“They don’t have to, but I hope that you will. I hope you’ll be able to trust me in this.”
Dolan looked down. “I have stood behind you for the last ten years, no matter what you’ve decided. I will stand behind you even in this.”
Kalas smiled and released him. “Thank you.” He wandered back to the manifests and opened to where he left off. “Now, do you want to help me look through these?”
When Dolan didn’t immediately answer, he looked back at him. The Nazarien had a strange look on his face, almost a grimace.
“Dolan?”
“Does Your Majesty command it?”
Kalas laughed. “Command it, no, but your friend could really use the help.”
Dolan sighed, but he moved toward the table. “I’d have preferred your command,” he muttered as he took a seat.
* * *
Jarrett returned to the domes. He’d wandered as far as the dump area, then circled back to the edge of the hills, searching the ground for any sign of the glittering dirt Jax had mentioned or the plant he’d drawn, but he found nothing. He knew he should go farther, perhaps climb back up the mountain, but worry for Tyla had driven him back to the Delphi capital.
He paused in the entrance to their room, his attention focused on Tyla immediately. She was curled into a fetal position, her right hand closed around the emerald. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and he knew before he even entered that fever raged inside her body.
He crossed to her and sank down on the edge of the shelf, reaching out to brush a dark curl from her face. “Tyla,” he called softly. “Wake up, sweetheart.”
Her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn’t wake.
He covered her cheek with his hand and felt the blaze of the fever. For a moment, the enormity of the situation overwhelmed him and he felt like he might suffocate, but he shoved it down. There was something to be said for rigid Nazarien training. He could fall back on it when he needed to suppress his emotions.
Rather than wake her, he turned for her pack and pulled out her medicinal pouch. He picked up the last of the Stamerian and the pot he’d used to heat their meal, filling it with water from the other pot he kept close by in case she needed something to drink to ease her cough. He placed the Stamerian inside and rose, moving back through the domes.
The light was fading, sliding down behind the mountains, the tunnels growing dim. Wryn passed by him, hardly giving him any notice, they saw him so frequently now. For the first time, Jarrett noticed the niches in the walls. They glowed faintly. He moved close to one and rose on his tiptoes to look inside. A rock was nestled into the niche and it gave off a muted light, enough to enable the Wryn to move through the communal areas without bumping into each other. He realized he hadn’t been in the communal part of the domes after dusk before. In their private section, they didn’t have any of these glowing niches.
He carried his pot out into the failing light and went to his fire-ring. He’d been careful to gather enough firewood for a few days, so he arranged everything between the rocks and struck the pycantra starter. As he’d noticed before, a few Wryn followed him out and watched his fire building with interest.
Once it had burned down a bit, he settled the pot among the embers and sat back waiting for the water to boil. He didn’t want to think about their predicament, so he studied the surrounding landscape, the line of trees, the rise of the mountains, the bald path cutting away from the domes and disappearing beyond sight. If he turned to the right, he could see another trail leading toward the mountains, headed out toward where he suspected the beach lay.
He was so lost in thought, he didn’t realize Zimran had approached until the Wryn hunkered down beside him. He held a bowl in his hands and inside the bowl were the rocks that he’d brought them their first morning in the domes.
“Jer-rid, opporte ut.” He shoved the rocks at Jarrett. “Opporte ut um Ty-la.” He picked up a rock and made an eating motion. “Comedetus, Jer-rid. Comedetus.”
Jarrett frowned. “We don’t eat rocks, Zimran. We can’t eat rocks. Why can’t I make you understand that?”
“Comedetus,” said Zimran again.
Jarrett’s eyes narrowed on him. He followed the motion of his hand to his mouth, the pale green of his skin glowing in the failing light. What the hell was he trying to tell Jarrett? It had to do with Tyla. He always said Tyla’s name when he brought Jarrett the rocks.
“We can’t eat rocks,” he repeated, then his eyes moved to the pot where the water had begun to boil. “We can’t eat them, but…” He took the bowl from Z
imran’s hand and picked up one of the rocks, studying it. There was nothing remarkable about the rock, nothing that distinguished it from any other. It was brown and small, semi-circular. He pressed his thumb into the surface and drew it back. A flake broke free and beneath it was a faint shimmer of light.
Jarrett looked up at Zimran. The Wryn was watching him, but he met his gaze and nodded.
“Um Ty-la.” He motioned to his mouth. “Comedetus.”
Jarrett curled his fingers around the rock and pressed the edges hard into his flesh. He could boil the rock in the Stamerian, but what if it was poisonous? What if it made her worse? How could he chance it?
He forced himself to admit what he’d been trying to avoid for weeks. She was dying. He was watching her die every day, every hour, every moment. If there was a chance, however slim, however ridiculous, that this rock might help, wasn’t it worth the risk?
Before he could think better of it, he leaned forward and tossed the rock into the pot. Zimran looked after it, but he didn’t say anything. Jarrett took the rest of the rocks and emptied them into the pot, then waited for the water to come to another boil.
Once they did, he picked up the pot and left the embers burning. He returned to their room and grabbed two of the smaller pots they used as cups, pouring the Stamerian/rock mixture into them. He lifted one of the cups to his lips and downed the entire amount, grimacing at the metallic taste.
He didn’t know what he expected to happen, beyond the rejuvenation that he always felt when he drank Stamerian, but he waited for a few minutes. When nothing happened, he lifted the second cup and carried it to the shelf, sinking down next to Tyla.
She blinked open her eyes as he sat down beside her and forced a weary smile. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said in return.
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 82