A drop of sweat slid down Agna’s nose as she concentrated. Keifon pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed it away, keeping his grip steady on Bargi’s leg. Agna jumped, too deep in her reverie to see him coming. But her hold did not break as he sponged her face and the back of her neck. He smoothed a lock of hair that had fallen over her forehead. There was nothing else he could do, except to distract Bargi and keep her still, and she seemed to have no problem on either front.
“What?” he whispered, as Bargi’s sharp smile made him uneasy.
“So are you two…”
“No.” He did not qualify it or explain it. He hated this question. His usual tactic was to walk out of the conversation, but that avenue was closed in this case. He refused to form the minimizing words, the only or just. There was nothing minimizing about how he felt about her. And any details about their lack of physical intimacy were a breach of the privacy that Agna valued so highly.
Some inner demon noted that she was so deep in concentration that she might or might not hear anything he said right now. And even if she did, she could not reply, lest she break her spinning of the healing art. Something in him wanted to lash out at her. Something in him wanted to cling to her, to make her understand the enormity of the thing inside him that he wasn’t sure he understood himself. So he spoke to Bargi, watching Agna’s still face. “But it doesn’t mean I love her any less.”
He saw a minute twitch in Agna’s lower lip. A faint glow rose under her hands where her skin connected to Bargi’s. She had to have heard him after all.
Bargi let out a breathy laugh. “I’d say you’re both missing out, then. Damn. Too bad I’m banged up, or I’d show you.”
Agna didn’t speak or look up, but blushing was involuntary. Keifon knew that firsthand. He could feel his skin burning against Bargi’s bunched-up pant leg, down to his fingertips. He swallowed and groped toward a comeback. “We don’t take those kinds of favors as payment. Sorry.” He steadied Bargi’s leg as she laughed, trying to keep the vibrations from jarring his friend’s work.
Tacking toward any other topic, he said, “So what do you want to do first, when you’re back on your feet?”
“Ha. Stretch. Have a wash. Take a walk. Get some air. And look for some work. Not at the frigging church.”
“Sounds like a good plan. Have you seen the fliers for the mountain pass project? I thought that might be your kind of thing. Housing included, good pay. And it isn’t just the Union, it’s an open call for labor as well as earthbreakers.”
“Might. No end to it, that’s the thing. As long as it takes, they say. Digging out the mountains all the way up to Yanwei? Could take forever.”
“Yeah. But I think they’re doing short-term contracts, too. It’s up to you.”
“It’s right up here.” She tapped her temple.
“All right,” Agna whispered. Keifon’s head jerked up. She hadn’t let go of Bargi’s leg yet, or even looked up. “I’m going to let go of the nerve block. Try moving a little. Nice and slow. Tiny movements.”
The glow had dimmed, and Agna opened her eyes. Bargi gingerly flexed her ankle, then bent her knee, taking Agna’s hands along for the ride. “Mmph. Still sore. But nowhere near before. Nowhere near.”
“Yeah, that’s from the swelling, mostly. Leave the splint on for a few more days, till the swelling goes down. It will help support the leg.” Agna’s brow creased as she held onto the connection. Keifon recalled that last wash of warm energy sweeping through him, as she surveyed what she’d accomplished. Finally she sat back and stretched her shoulders, as Bargi ran her hands over the healed leg.
“Ow. Ow. Dammit. Still. Yes.”
Agna smiled, and Keifon felt a stab of guilt in his chest at the fatigue in her eyes. He’d asked too much of her, too early and without warning. But she’d done it anyway. “Enjoy it,” she said. “Tell me or Kei if anything weird happens — more swelling, grinding, lumps, anything.”
“Yeah, sure. Think I’ll stay off it just for now, is that good?”
“Yes, definitely. Till tomorrow at least.” She got to her feet, and Keifon shot up to join her, his head reeling.
“I’ve got to get Agna to work. Or — home?”
“Work,” she said, not looking at him. “Take it easy, Bargi. Pleasure to meet you.”
“You too.”
“See you,” Keifon said, and headed for the nearest stairs up to the street. He listened to Agna’s steps behind him, and fought the queasy dread pooling in his stomach.
She didn’t speak as they walked between the storehouses, or the houses beyond. The canal-side flats tilted up into Wildern’s usual hills. The staircase had brought them up half a block west of where they’d descended to the canal, and their path now led toward the front entrance of the Benevolent Union base. As they walked, the base’s facade loomed over the houses. The trees in front of it were still young, dwarfed by the dark-stained beams that held up the walls. A few members of the day shift trickled in the hospital-side door, and troops of children headed for the school through the front entrance. Their chatter almost filled the silence.
Agna stopped on the corner where their paths would diverge. “We’ll talk tonight,” she said. “Don’t spend all day worrying, all right? We’ll be fine. We just have to work through some things. Believe me for once.”
It was too late to keep her up, but he could try to make it up to her before then. He shut the protests away. “All right. I’ll try.”
“Heh.”
“Have a good day,” he said, and left off I’m sorry, because she would prefer it that way.
“You, too. Get some sleep. And tell the little ones to behave.” She patted his cheek, hitched up her shoulder bag, and followed the other staff inside.
Keifon began to turn toward Agna’s home. Across the street, an Eytran priest, wearing the green hooded cloak despite the heat, led a group of six or seven people into the boarding house that faced the Benevolent Union base. The others plodded along in their traveling clothes, and Keifon watched as they filed in, realizing what they all had in common. He hadn’t seen the priest’s face, but the others were dark-haired and lighter-skinned than most of the Kaverans in the area. A whole traveling party of Yanweians — new agents for the base? They didn’t look military, and the Eytran church was unaffiliated with the military in any case.
Realizing that he was still frowning at the door after they’d gone, Keifon turned away and started up the last hill. He would buy a new cooking pot on the way, boil Gaf’s bandages clean, and take Agna’s advice to rest. He had to trust that she was right, and that they would be fine in the end.
Agna: Home
The only sound in the apartment was a chorus of indignant meows. Noting the fresh scraps in the bowls in the corner, Agna eyed the kittens’ protest skeptically. Lulu was still licking her whiskers.
“Yeah, yeah. Years and years since the mean humans fed you. I know.”
Shadow gave up the argument to wash his face, and Lulu tangled around Agna’s feet on her way to the table. Her shoulder bag had barely hit the floor when she saw a letter lying on the table. The top line was her name, followed by neat lines of Kaveran text. The inkwell sat next to it, with a stripped quill that the kittens had not eaten yet.
Agna lit a lamp and crashed into a chair to read, putting off her hunger.
Agna,
Sorry for the dramatic gesture of leaving a note. Really I just want to get this out of my head so I can take a nap.
You’re right, I should have told you beforehand. I couldn’t face it, not even to myself. It wasn’t about not trusting you. But you’re right, it comes off as though I don’t trust you, and that’s not what I want. Remembering that I trust you can help me be braver about things like this.
Thank you for coming anyway. I know Bargi appreciates what you’ve done for her. I hope the others weren’t too offensive. Life can make people kind of peculiar sometimes. Not that it’s an excuse. But I hope you don’t take it personally. I a
ppreciate your coming along, for so many reasons.
I’ve written a letter to the local matchmaker. He’s a Lundran priest, with an office over on Larch. I asked for an appointment. I’ll post the letter on my way to work. I know you said that’s not what this is all about, but it is for me, I think. It isn’t your fault, but I think I’m getting too comfortable. Sometimes I think I could be happy staying here with you forever, and that isn’t fair to you.
Dinner will be in the oven when you get home. It’ll keep warm for the hour between, I’ll build the fire low. I’ll eat before I go, so don’t worry about saving anything.
See? Things like that. Just thinking about you coming home makes me so happy it’s sickening. It’s dangerous. I’ll make things better. I promise.
Have a good night and sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Kei.
On the reverse side, Agna wrote in handwriting made spiky and uneven by tension.
Dear Kei,
A partial list of things I’ve never said:
1) I’ve never said I want you to leave
2) I’ve never said I don’t like having you here
3) I’ve never said you should get to the matchmaker for my sake
I am so tired of being your scapegoat. I want you to say it out loud. Literally. “I want to go to the matchmaker’s. I want to move out.” Stop pinning this on me. It is the opposite of what I want.
Listening to you talk about how it’s bad to be happy makes my head hurt. I love you, but sometimes I want to punch you in the head, and it’s been a head-punching kind of day.
It was hard this morning. There’s so much that needs to be done, and so little I can do. We always live with that as healers, you and I — you know that. We do what we can. But thinking of you, personally, going through that hurt so much. Philosophically, sure, every person is valuable and every life is a divine spark and no one deserves to suffer (…so they say). But thinking about you, my Kei, living like that — feeling as suspicious and lost and hurt as some of those people seemed to feel — it makes me so angry. I want to go back in time and protect you.
And then you talk about leaving, and I just want to yell, you have a home with me! You’re sad that you don’t have a home yet (so you seem to think) and you’re sad that you enjoy the home you have. It’s maddening.
Plus, you kind of embarrassed me in front of Bargi. When I couldn’t speak for myself. That was unfair.
I’m over being mad at you for not telling me where we were going. I understand it’s hard to talk about.
Thus ends the list of reasons why I’m mad at you today. And whatever Yanweian sorcery you cooked up smells delicious, so I’m going to go devour it. And then I’ll write down my notes about carpets today, so you can take a look at them. Wake me up when you get home, all right? You know I’ll be fine getting back to sleep.
I’ll say good night then. And only then.
A.
The knock on her door was almost too quiet to hear; she came out of sleep in layers, aware of the sheets and then the room and then the dim light in the hallway. She rubbed her eyes and made out a silhouette in the doorway.
“Hey. I’m back.”
“Welcome home.”
“Mmn.” Keifon crossed his arms. “Thanks.”
Shifting back to lean against the headboard, Agna sat up and fumbled for the lamp on her bedside table. A faint smell of disinfectant and vomit hung in the air. “Rough day?”
“Yeah. No need to—” He broke off as her lamp lit, squinting in its light. “I was just going to change and go to bed.”
“Yeah, all right, I just wanted to talk for a minute. If you want to go get changed, I’m not gonna stop you, though.”
“Sorry for waking you.”
“Apology denied.” She yawned and waved at him to get going. Keifon retreated from her doorway, and she heard his door close. Lulu’s head poked out from the corner of the doorframe. Agna patted the crumpled sheets. The kitten bounded in, made a mighty leap, and landed at the edge of her bed. Scooping her up, Agna nuzzled her downy fur. Lulu wriggled, and Agna let her go. Something in this house would appreciate her attention eventually, blast it.
She heard footsteps and water splashing, and in a few minutes Keifon reappeared in her doorway, watching the floor. He’d changed into the shapeless clothes he wore to sleep, their fabric softened and paled by endless washing. Agna patted the sheet again, but he didn’t take the invitation.
“Good night,” he said, and began to turn.
“Not so fast. What’d I say?”
“Hm?”
“Say the thing.”
“Oh.” He shifted his weight, and glanced into the hallway as if planning an escape. “Literally.”
“Literally.”
“Mmn. Uh… it’s… it’s late. You should get back to sleep.”
If he was going to be cagey, fine. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and met him at the door. He took half a step back into the hall, but he did not pull away when she hugged him. Agna was pretty sure he never would. That was what told her that his talk about leaving and being a burden was just a lie he told himself. He never passed up her offer, and he never failed to hug her back.
She never called attention to how much he seemed to want her affection, how easily he calmed and quieted when she was close to him. Maybe he noticed it anyway. But she would keep offering. If he needed affection and comfort, she wanted to give it to him. She would even up the deficit he was running if it took her the rest of their lives.
“I want you to say it because I want you to realize where it comes from. Not me.”
His breath huffed over her sweat-dampened neck. “I know. I know. But I don’t… I don’t want to.” His voice strengthened. “I don’t want to go to the matchmaker’s. I feel like I should. That there’s something wrong with me because I don’t want to. I always said I would, and now I keep putting it off. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Agna backed off to look at him, keeping her hands on his arms. “Being happy with your life is ‘something wrong with you.’”
“Well…”
“’Cause it’s not what they told you you should want, back in Yanwei. Right?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, breaking half of her hold. “There really is more I want out of life. Things I want to do. I just can’t bring myself to chase after them.”
Agna let go of him. “Right now. We’ve only been here for a few months. Maybe you just need to give yourself more time to be ready.”
Keifon threw up his hands and tipped his head toward the ceiling. “More time. I was eight when my parents were my age. They had a staff of what, nine ranch hands and I’m an apprentice—”
“You can’t be your parents.” Even though she tried to say it softly, it stung. “I think you’re doing a great job of being you.”
“And you’re achieving all of these things, you’re starting up your gallery and meeting these important people—”
“Stop using me as ammunition against yourself. I won’t have it.” She pushed herself to calm down. “How old is Dr. Rushu?”
“Mmn, late sixties, I guess.”
“Do you think you could have what she has, when you’re her age? Forty years from now?”
He leaned on her door frame. “I guess. …She’s on her second marriage, too. Though her first wife died of cancer back home, I think.”
The word struck a chord in her mind. “Back home.”
“You know, back in Yanwei.”
When he’d come in, he’d said I’m back. Not I’m home. He said that every day. Even half-asleep, she had noticed. “Can you do something else for me?”
“Of course.”
“Can you try to… you know, stop avoiding calling this place home? You kept saying ‘Agna’s house’ to people at the canal. Around the corner from Agna’s house. Going back to Agna’s house. Can you call it your house too? Because it is.”
He flushed and av
oided her eyes. “I’ll…I’ll try.”
“I keep trying to make this place better. And I know it’s not there yet. It’s dusty and mostly empty and we don’t even know what’s in the attic. But I’m working at it. I want to make a place where I can regroup and plan. My stronghold. I can’t take over the world without a stronghold.” She waited for him to look up and try to smile. “And I can’t do it on my own yet. Listen—” She held up her hands, cutting off his protest. “I’m still learning. I need to talk over this stuff with somebody, like how do you know if the fish is fresh enough, or how much is a reasonable price for a couch. And I don’t have any other friends here yet. Not who I can talk to when I’m discouraged or scared. I need you here.” A lump pushed into her throat, and she looked away. “Please don’t talk about leaving me here alone. Not yet. Someday, all right, I want you to find somebody who makes you happy, and I want you to have that house full of kids like you wanted. But not yet.”
Keifon’s hand ran up and down her bare arm, and she suppressed a shiver. “You… you actually need me for something.”
“Yeah.” It came out in a whisper. “I’m not as strong as you thought I was. I know.”
“Things I never said.” He didn’t drop his hand, and he didn’t move closer or further away. He just watched her as she fought the impulse to cry. She’d pretended that she was capable and resourceful, and he’d believed her. Worse yet, even if she proved that it wasn’t true, even if she admitted that she didn’t have any clue what she was doing, he wouldn’t be disillusioned. He believed in her like he believed in his gods, despite all evidence to the contrary. “It’s really all right if I stay.”
“Yes, damn it!”
“And I can help you.” His voice thinned, and she looked up just as he rubbed his eyes. “I want to. With the gallery, and the apartment — anything. Everything.”
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