Between Worlds

by Melissa Mead

  "She's no relation of mine.” Doria paced between Miska and her niece like a tigress before her cub.

  "She ... knows things.” Lindi looked at Miska with an expression like a mouse in a circle of cats. “Help me. I don't know what's going on, and I'm scared."

  Miska could see the pain and sympathy in Doria's face, but the older woman held her ground. “Well, I won't have her doing ‘things’ to you until I have some proof that she knows what she's talking about."

  "But how can I show you if I'm not to come near you?” Miska gestured helplessly.

  "Heal him first.” Lindi pointed at Juliar, who looked stunned. “Fix his leg."

  "I can't do that!” She looked at Juliar, seeing Naneri's white face instead.

  "Then go back to your sweeping, Temple Girl, and let him help me.” Lindi turned away, haughty in her disappointment. “Better yet, summon the priestess. Where is she?"

  "She'll be back shortly.” Juliar turned hungry eyes on Miska. “Are you really a healer? Show me ... us!"

  "I ... can't."

  "Are you afraid you might hurt him?” asked Aldinan, gently.

  "I'm not afraid,” Juliar objected. “Try it!"

  "But...” The enormity of what she was considering began to sink in. Worldwalking in front of humans. Healing them. Or trying to. Humans might be very different from Kankenni. And to experiment on Juliar, who'd gotten her away from that shouting crowd ... “Are you certain?"

  "Do it!” he insisted. “Before Vedi Sharanis gets back. Even Myringa can't keep her busy much longer."

  Miska pushed aside images of Naneri's still body. “Just remember, you asked me to,” she warned.

  Now Juliar hesitated, licked his dry lips. “Is there some kind of ... preparation?"

  "Just hold on to something. If everyone else would sit down..."

  Juliar gripped the shelf. Miska laid a hand on his hip, and he pulled away in shock. Doria coughed, Aldinan chuckled, and Lindi suddenly became very interested in the nearest candle.

  "Don't move! This would be easier if you weren't wearing trousers, but ... What's wrong?"

  "Never mind,” said Juliar through clenched teeth, his face flaming. “Just get it over with."

  "Now, don't move, and don't be alarmed,” Miska cautioned, and stepped across the boundary into the Second World. The watching humans, shapes wavering as though seen through water, gaped and pointed. Miska turned her attention to Juliar.

  It was easy to tell which was the bad leg. The sound bone looked like a marble rod. The joint beneath her hand looked pitted and pocked, the leg bone itself shot through with bolts of fiery red. Oh, to have Midyora here! Not even the Elder Healer could completely rebuild such a worn joint, but she could do something. Miska sighed. Well, she could do something about the red lines. She stretched forth her clear, Second-World hands.

  "This is not Naneri.” Miska reminded herself sternly. “And red lines are easier than yellow."

  They were. Each touch cooled the scarlet until it vanished. It was so gratifyingly easy, watching that painful inflammation disappear. Emboldened, Miska decided to try mending the joint itself. She touched a ragged spot, called Motes around it. So simple! Just like Worldwalking. Just withdraw, the same as returning to her own body, and let the Motes become fresh new...

  The link between worlds buckled. Miska dropped back into herself, found herself sitting on the Temple floor. Lindi and her family stared from the farthest corner like frightened cats. Juliar clutched the tilted shelf, gasping and half falling amongst a litter of candles.

  "Juliar! Are you hurt?” Miska stood up quickly.

  "What in the name of the stars did you do?” he demanded, his voice a little louder with each word.

  "Did she hurt you, Temple Boy?” Lindi ventured.

  "His name's Juliar,” Miska scolded. “Ah ... Did I, Juliar?"

  "No!” He grinned, pulling himself back to his feet. “It doesn't hurt. That's the amazing thing. It's like having a fourteen-year headache suddenly go away."

  Miska nearly melted with relief. “Oh, good.” She handed him his walking stick.

  "I don't need that now! I'll just...” He started to run out the door, and went sprawling. Doria and Aldinan moved to help him up.

  "I'm fine! Thank you. Just ... I'm fine.” Grimly, he took the stick from Miska and braced himself against it.

  "There was only so much I could do,” Miska said, biting her lip. “The ... fever in the bone is gone, but the bone itself is still worn."

  "New wax on a frayed wick, eh?” How quickly he covered his disappointment, only showing in his white knuckles over the smooth lion's head. “Well, I couldn't just throw away old Leo—he took me days to carve.” He turned to the others. “Miska's not the Lady of Light herself, but she's amazing. I'd trust her."

  "You are standing much straighter, young man,” Doria affirmed.

  "All right.” Lindi came over to stand before them, chin high, “Heal me."

  "But you aren't sick!"

  "I'm seeing things that aren't there, falling down, walking into walls—or through them—and you say there's nothing wrong with me? Tell that to Aunt Doria and Uncle Aldinan, or my parents."

  "You can't say that's normal,” Aldinan put in from where he knelt, replacing spilled candles.

  "Maybe not for Hu ... most people, but where I come from it is. It's something you grow into. It's ... it's as though you were blind, and now you're not, but you still need to learn what you're seeing. Once you know what to expect, it won't trouble you.” Miska heard wheels clattering in the street. Myringa's carriage, finally driving away. “It's not something I can do all at once. But I can help you learn."

  "I'll come here every day,” Lindi agreed.

  "That won't work,” said Juliar flatly. “Vedi Sharanis and the others ... they'd never agree to let a new girl see patients, untrained."

  "Even after what Miska just did? I'll tell them I insist,” said Lindi.

  Juliar shrugged. “Even a Majestra's daughter can't argue with the Daughters of the Temple, Miss Salera. Unless I got up and danced a jig on the altar, they wouldn't believe any of us. Even then..."

  "Take me with you, Lindi,” Miska interrupted.

  "I don't think the Temple would appreciate our carrying off one of its girls,” Doria chuckled. Now that no one was threatening to do ‘things’ to her niece without her consent, she looked quite grandmotherly. She looked over Miska's dress—faded, too short, and held together with decades’ worth of patches—and Miska could see her stern look softening.

  "She's not a Temple Girl. She's an orphan, but she's just here looking for her cousin,” Juliar explained.

  "Yes, and why did you call Lindi ‘Cousin'? You may be a redhead like a lot of my family, but that hardly makes us related."

  To the surprise of everyone else, Miska laughed.

  "Oh, I know that! It's a courtesy. I would be a poor Historian if I didn't at least know all my living relations. I have to know all the genealogies, and the histories, and the legends..."

  "A storyteller?” Aldinan looked intrigued. “My great-uncle was a wandering storyteller. It's thanks to him I came north and met Doria. All his tales of merfolk and flying horses and Cantrips ... Doria was the only enchanting creature I met.” He smiled at his wife.

  "Cantrips?” Miska prompted carefully.

  "Either a kind of hearth-hob, or a treacherous imp, depending on who's telling the story.” Aldinan set the last candle in place and heedlessly dusted his hands off on his pant legs, leaving waxy spots. “There used to be a song about them. I forget how it goes..."

  "Like this?” Juliar offered. He sang a verse, in a pleasant tenor:

  The Imps of the hearth, they've all gone away, to follow a magical yearning.

  Oh, the Imps of the hearth, Where they've gone, who can say? From the hearthside and never returning...

  "Mami's lullaby!” Miska exclaimed to herself. Juliar seemed to have forgotten the others were there while he sang. He stopp
ed, flushing.

  "Very nice, young man.” Doria smiled. “My great grandmother used to sing that. She also used to leave a plate of honey cakes for a Cantrip who cleaned the dairy every Starsday evening. It always washed the plate, too.” Doria frowned at the door. “What's keeping Vedi Sharanis?"

  Miska listened, and went cold with fright.

  "Someone's screaming,” she whispered. “Outside."

  Chapter 6

  Doria sprang to the door and wrenched it open. Cold air gusted over them all, dousing the center candle. In the middle of the path lay a gray shape. Vedi Sharanis, skirts hitched high, was running towards it, but it was Juliar, of all people, who got there first. He threw aside his stick and dropped to the ground, hard. The others crowded around him.

  "It's Lila,” he choked.

  The little Temple Girl sprawled, loose-jointed, across the cobblestones. Her bright hair straggled in a puddle of slush. At the sound of voices, she turned stiffly toward them.

  "'H'lo, Juli ... Ahh!” she cried, as her body stiffened and jerked.

  "Lila!” Juliar cried. “What happened?"

  "No,” Miska moaned. “Not again ... No, no, no..."

  "Get her inside,” commanded Vedi Sharanis. “Gently."

  Doria spread her fur cloak on the damp ground. Vedi Sharanis and Juliar eased Lila onto it as tenderly as they could, but her cries and contortions still made Miska wince. Aldinan carried the girl to Dannae's domain.

  "What's happened to her?” demanded the ashen-faced nurse.

  "I didn't see anything.” Vedi Sharanis looked grim.

  "The Thorns ... Check her hand,” rasped Miska, her mouth gone paper-dry. Under six pairs of anxious eyes, Dannae searched, and grimly extracted a familiar deadly sliver.

  "Is this the one you showed me, Juliar?"

  "No Ma'am!” There was no laughter in Juliar's red-rimmed eyes now. “I left that one here last night—and that was clean."

  "Poor sweetheart.” Dannae moved to lay a blanket over Lila's twitching body.

  "No, don't!” Miska warned. “Anything touching her will only make it worse."

  Now all the eyes were on her.

  "How do you know?” Dannae demanded. “And how did you know what to look for?"

  "And can you fix it, like you did Juliar ... well, almost?” Lindi wanted to know. Vedi Sharanis looked questioningly at Miska, and Juliar, then back to Miska again.

  "If you know how to help her, in the Ladies’ name, tell us,” she said.

  "But I don't,” Miska confessed, shaking with terror and remorse. “I've only watched someone ... die."

  Juliar pounded his fist on the table. Lindi bit her lip.

  "That's more than any of us know,” Dannae declared. “Do what you can."

  "But..."

  "Or let her die without even trying."

  Miska clenched her teeth and marched to Lila's bedside. At the sight of the girl's face, strawberry-blond curls awry, her knees wobbled. So young! And, with sick certainty, the horrible suspicion dripped into Miska's mind that the attacker—attackers, perhaps—had merely been looking for someone small, and slender, perhaps with bright hair.

  "Oh, young one, I'm sorry.” She took the pierced hand gently, stepped inward, and forced herself to look.

  The malignant yellow lines were there, insidious and repulsive as before. But as Miska adjusted herself to the strange, human landscape, the differences became clear. The wicked threads formed a knot, stringing toward Lila's head-eyes, ears ... and following a single line through each arm and leg. Nowhere did it spread into the intricate, all-encompassing web that had strangled Naneri's spirit. She could contain it as it was. Before she could even finish the thought, her Second-World hands laid a glassy coating over the knot and each yellow strand, hardening it into an ice-coated branch. If she ‘snapped’ the branch just before the main bundle in Lila's hand, would she be able to remove at least some of it? Or would that only damage the child, paralyze her, perhaps stop her heart? But as it was now, Lila would die. Steeling herself, Miska shattered the venomous link.

  The world heaved and buckled, turned inside out. The bedpost was hard under Miska's hands.

  "Hold her down!” Dannae was shouting. The nurse, Vedi Sharanis and Lindi's aunt and uncle fought to keep the convulsing girl from hurling herself to the floor.

  "Give me the splinter!” Miska snapped at an ashen-faced Juliar. Still staring at Lila, he obeyed. Miska set the deadly thorn in her mouth and sucked on it, hard.

  Bitter as metallic lye, it burned her tongue. Red and green fireworks exploded in her brain. She spat out the bit of metal, thought as long as she dared, and lurched to Dannae's medicine cupboard. With hands growing ever clumsier, she poured liquid from four different bottles into a cup.

  "Miska, what are you doing?” Vedi Sharanis, disheveled and haggard, advanced on her.

  "Gib'er dish,” Miska said through sluggish lips. “No, wait.” She splashed in one more liquid, took a quick swallow from the cup herself, and sighed. “Yesh. S'better. Besht I can do. Try it."

  "I have no idea what that is. I'm not..."

  "Let her try,” Juliar and Lindi urged with one voice.

  "We don't have time for anything else,” Dannae declared. “It can't make her any worse.” She took the cup, gently pouring drops into Lila's mouth. The girl was barely breathing, now. Neither were the anxious watchers.

  Miska slumped on the bed with her buzzing head cradled in her hands, feeling the tingling recede from her lips and limbs.

  "This is absurd.” Vedi Sharanis's face was tense with frustration and anger. “I can't believe you're willing to toy with Lila's life like this, Dannae. If she dies..."

  Miska shuddered.

  "Hush!” The nurse patted Lila's uninjured hand gently. The fingers curled limply around hers. “Lila, honey? Are you in there?"

  No response. Silence lay so heavily in the white room Miska could hear a dry leaf brush against the window outside.

  "At least she's relaxed.” Nurse Dannae broke the silence. “Most of those bottles are sedatives, Vedi Sharanis. Whatever Miska's done, it has to be kinder than letting Lila suffer. If she..."

  She stopped. Lila's eyes were open, and watching the nurse intently.

  "...If she wakes up right now she'll be a lot more comfortable,” Dannae continued without pause, though her own eyes were wet and her voice trembled. “Hello, sweetheart!"

  Lila smiled—a tiny, hesitant smile. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Alarm spread across her face, and Miska saw tension beginning to tighten her muscles again.

  "Lie still.” She moved quickly to the bedside, speaking slowly, quietly. The numbness was almost gone. “You have a very bad poison inside you. I've ... stopped it, but it will be a long while yet before it's gone.” She did not allow herself to say “If ever.” “You'll have to stay quiet, and lie still, and let Nurse make you cinnamon toast."

  Ah! That brought a smile. Miska smiled back.

  "No toast for you just yet, young lady,” Sister Dannae announced. Lila frowned, looking so stubborn that Miska's hopes rose. Juliar shook a finger at the girl.

  "Don't you ever try a stunt like that again just to get sweets, young lady! You'll eat oatmeal like the rest of us. Hmph!” He turned away in mock indignation, but Miska saw the shock and relief that chased over his face.

  "That was amazing, Miska!” Lindi's look of admiration fell just short of worship.

  "Thank you, Dannae—we'll give Lila some quiet now.” Vedi Sharanis turned her attention to the stunned family, taking in Lindi's now-rumpled white robe. “I apologize, Doria, Aldinan. This must be your niece.” She allowed herself to smile. “You look so much like your mother. I'll call for a healer to examine you right away."

  "Actually, I came looking for a Companion. Miska will do fine,” said Lindi.

  "Miska is ... not a member of the Temple. Yet."

  Miska wasn't listening. She was studying Lila's pale face. The girl had drifted into an exhaus
ted sleep.

  "They were looking for me,” Miska murmured.

  "What?” Beside her, Juliar looked up in alarm.

  "Could we talk somewhere else? I don't want to frighten her."

  * * * *

  Leaving Lila with Nurse Dannae, they went to Vedi Sharanis's study: a sparse, book-lined room that would have seemed severe were it not for the sunlight pouring through the wide glass window and the sweeping view of the ocean outside. Juliar included himself in the party, and the priestess did not insist that he had more important things to do. Miska was grateful. She sat deep in the corner of the window seat, avoiding the five pairs of eyes on her. Vedi Sharanis watched her from behind a massive wooden disc. The topaz Miska had created glittered near the priestess’ hand.

  "Now, what did you mean, Miska? You've obviously seen something like this before."

  "My ... cousin that I'm looking for ... His mother was killed by one of these thorns. I remembered the ... flavor of the poison. I think the Hu ... men with the thorns are looking for ... members of my family."

  "I thought you were an orphan.” Vedi Sharanis's dark eyes held hers.

  "I am.” Miska struggled between the Kankenni twin horrors of lying and discovery. “But there are others, not so close-tied.” Her left foot tapped softly on the wooden floor. “When I ... lost my cousin, they were searching very near my home."

  Doria looked thoughtful. “I know almost all of the Great Families. What is your family name?"

  Miska felt as though she were being driven to the edge of a chasm. “We have no family name."

  "Why would anyone try to assassinate members of an unnamed family?” Aldinan wondered.

  Juliar rose stiffly and moved to look her in the face. “Miska, we want to help. I think you should tell us exactly who your family is, and why the Steel Thorns would be hunting you."

  "I don't know why!” Miska shuddered. “I can guess why they hurt Lila. Because they wanted someone small, with bright hair. Me. And I can guess why they hunt children. Because they're the size of most of my people."

  "And who are your people, Miska?” Juliar was the only one in the room who did not look slightly afraid. Miska looked into his eyes, feeling utterly miserable. The Elders would never forgive her. But in between here and the Elders were the Steel Thorns, hunting. And Kimo, lost.