by A. C. Ellas
How does he manage it? Surrounded by stupidity day in, day out, surrounded by the arrogance of people who assume they’re better than him, and he’s never once snapped. She’d read his papers in physics. She had barely understood the concepts he’d been writing on, and the math was totally beyond her. She knew how intelligent he really was. I’d say that he’s wasted as a musician except I know he lives for the music... and for George.
She took a deep breath then let it out slowly. I’m such an idiot. George. He lives for George. She’d been told about his past, the abuse he’d suffered. George’s mother, Helen, had rescued Yeri, who’d been close to death, and she’d nursed him back to health. Then, she’d died, and she’d left Yeri to George. George gave him a reason to live. George gave him music.
* * * *
Devlin walked into the backyard, glancing up at the darkening sky as he did so. George had asked him to bring Yeri back inside. George didn’t want the Rovani sleeping outside because it was still getting pretty cold at night. Ellie and Yeri were curled up on the blanket, both appeared to be sleeping. He reached them, knelt down, and placed a hand on Yeri’s arm.
Yeri opened his eyes and looked at him.
“George wants you to come inside now,” Devlin explained. To his credit, the Rovani didn’t protest, he merely stretched and then, slowly, levered himself into a sitting position.
Devlin tried not to wince as he heard Yeri’s soft gasp of pain as he changed positions.
Ellie stirred. “What is it? Devlin?”
“Time to come inside, ma’am.” Devlin offered her a hand up, but she shook her head and indicated Yeri.
They both stood then reached down and helped pull Yeri to his feet. The Rovani cried out once, softly, then he shuttered his expression and fell silent. He walked better, though. He was able to put weight on his left foot. They made it into the house through the sliding door in the kitchen without incident.
Devlin turned Yeri toward the kitchen nook, but the Rovani paused and whispered, “Bathroom, master, please? I need to go.”
“I’ll go check on Lee,” Ellie said, smiling a little. She peeled off, heading out of the kitchen at a brisk pace, not that Devlin blamed her in the least. His Ellie wasn’t a nurse, she was an archeologist.
Devlin helped Yeri to the bathroom. He paused at the doorway and looked at Yeri. “Can you manage or do you need help?”
“I can manage, thank you, master.” Yeri walked slowly into the bathroom.
Trying to hide his own relief, Devlin shut the door behind him. Then, it occurred to him that Yeri knew perfectly well how uncomfortable the idea of helping him use the bathroom was to his humans. He bit his lip. Did Yeri say he could manage because he really could manage or because he was trying to spare us embarrassment?
* * * *
Alone in the bathroom, Yeri shut his eyes. It didn’t help much with the spinning sensation. He felt his way along the room, using the wall and the counter containing the sink to keep his balance. His chest felt like it was on fire. It hurt to breathe. Not inside, not in his lungs, but outside, in the muscles that had to move with his lungs to allow air in and out. How long had it been since he’d had the pain medicine? He desperately wanted some, but he wouldn’t ask. He never asked.
After an eternity, he reached the toilet. Grateful for that small mercy, he undid his wrap. It fluttered to the floor. He stared down in dismay. He’d told Devlin he could manage. He’d lied. He had no idea if he’d be able to lower himself to the toilet. I could just pee and hold the other. He nodded to himself, mind made up.
He took care of what business he could then turned and staggered back toward the door. The wrap, he ignored. There was no way he could pick it up. Another eternity passed before he reached the door and set a hand on the knob. The door opened abruptly, and he nearly lost his balance. Devlin caught him, saving him from a fall, but he wasn’t able to choke back the cry of pain.
“Easy there,” Devlin murmured, “I’ve got you. Are you done?”
“Yes, master,” Yeri gasped out. His vision was blurring, greying out. He ignored it, ignored the incipient tears, ignored the spinning of the man and kitchen around him.
Devlin called out, loudly enough to hurt his ears, “George!”
Footsteps approached rapidly, the scent of George grew strong in his nose. His master was worried about him. He hated being the cause of his master’s fear and worry. George shouldn’t suffer on his account. “What’s wrong? Is he getting worse?” George’s voice was his undoing. He felt the wet tracks of tears tracing down his cheeks and cursed himself for a weak fool.
“He’s hurting,” Devlin replied, “more than he’s letting on, I think. He went to the bathroom but didn’t manage as well as he claimed he could.”
George’s arms came about him, steadying and supporting him. “I’ve got him. Go grab his wrap.”
Devlin let go of him, brushed past him and into the bathroom. It wasn’t but a few steps for the healthy man. When Devlin returned, Yeri felt the silk being slid back over his genitals. He didn’t really mind being naked, but he knew his humans preferred him covered down there, except for when they wanted to play, of course.
George and Devlin helped him over to the kitchen nook and the waiting nest. Yeri admitted to himself that he wouldn’t have made it without their assistance. It wasn’t because of his foot, which felt fine, but because he felt so incredibly weak, so tired, he barely had the energy to remain upright. George helped him to sit down into the blankets with a whimper as even that motion stressed his chest again.
“Devlin, please make him something to eat. Bring his meds with the food, including the pain medicine.”
“Of course, sir.”
George had sat down with him, now he pulled Yeri into his lap. Yeri turned and rested his head on George’s shoulder, trying not to shiver. It was cold in there, even colder than it had been outside. He pressed against George, shamelessly soaking in the heat of his master’s body.
“So cold,” George murmured. The man stiffened against him. “Marra, the thermometer, please.”
Yeri hadn’t even noticed Marra’s being in the room with them. He wondered at himself, how out of it was he? Now that George had pointed out her presence, he could smell her—kind, warm, loving as always, but also worried about him. Is everyone frantic with worry for me? It’s just a burn. I’m not worth all this fuss. He felt the cool rubber of the thermometer slide across his forehead and down the side of his face.
“Skata. Ninety-two even. Marra, please go see if Sasha is awake? We need his opinion.”
“Let me get you a blanket for him, first.” Marra’s tone was no-nonsense. “And the hot food Devlin’s making will help bring his temperature up.”
“Yes, of course, thank you, Marra.” George held him even more tightly now. He whispered, “I’ll sleep here with you if it’ll help keep you warm.”
“Don’t trouble yourself over me, master.” Yeri wished he dared to command George to go away and stop fussing over him. It wasn’t right that his owner should be spending this much time worrying about him. But, at the same time, he craved the comfort—and warmth—of George’s embrace.
“I’ll trouble myself as I see fit,” George replied. He stroked Yeri’s back. “You’re worth all this time and effort and then some, and don’t you forget it, kitty cat. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
Yeri shivered. He wanted to argue, but it was difficult to concentrate, hard to think. George was warm and comforting, and he didn’t want to move. He heard Marra approach, felt the softness of the blanket enveloping him, then her footsteps retreated, leaving the room.
“Here’s his dinner. I made him some coffee, too.”
“Thank you, Devlin. Just set the tray down, I’ll feed him.”
Yeri was just starting to feel warm, not to mention comfortable and drowsy when the rim of a cup was touched to his lip.
“Drink, Yeri. It’s coffee.”
&n
bsp; He drank. The heat filled his mouth, the flavor filled his palate and his nostrils. He swallowed and traced the bolus of warmth all the way down to his stomach. Quickly, he took another sip before George pulled the mug away.
“You need to take your pills.” George held the cup containing the various medications to his lips next.
He opened his mouth and allowed the variously shaped and sized capsules and tablets pour in. Coffee followed instead of water. He appreciated that, even if the meds made that gulp of coffee taste bad. The next swallow was far better.
“Do you think you can eat?”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to, he had no appetite. But he knew he should, that his humans wanted him to. He sighed softly.
“I’d like you to try,” George urged.
The warmth pressed against his lip had the softness of meat and smelled, delectably, of beef. He opened his mouth and nipped it from the fork. The beef tasted better than it smelled. It was hot and salty-sweet, absolutely delicious. He swallowed and accepted the next bite a moment later. Lamb, this time, and it was even tastier than the beef.
Footsteps approached as George gave him another sip of coffee. He closed his eyes and relaxed as George turned his attention toward the newcomer. It was too much of a struggle to stay awake any longer, plus he knew himself perfectly safe in his master’s arms, so he let himself slip away.
* * * *
Sasha bit off a curse as he followed Marra into the kitchen. He felt better after a long nap, but he thought he’d been specific in his instructions that Yeri be left outside. Apparently, he hadn’t been specific enough, for the Rovani, wrapped in a blanket, was half reclined in George’s lap. George was sitting on a cushion in a sort of nook attached to the kitchen. Not outside.
“He’s cold,” George offered. “Ninety-two degrees.”
Sasha stopped, shock washing through him. “That’s not compatible with life.”
“He’s Rovani. They run colder than us. Normal temperatures for a Rovani range from ninety-four point five to ninety-five point five.”
Sasha shook his head and examined Yeri with his psionic senses. The healing network of power was absent, having faded when Yeri’s contact with the earth had been disrupted. In its absence, the infection was raging unchecked, worsening with every minute the Rovani spent inside. Yeri’s fever turning cold was not a good sign; it meant his immune system was giving up.
“He needs to go back outside, right now,” Sasha said firmly. “And unless the weather turns so bad it might kill him, he needs to stay outside.”
“What? Why? Sasha, he’s cold as it is and it’s even colder out there.” George looked affronted at the very idea of it. He also felt like a man who’d already made up his mind.
Sasha took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “Listen to me, please. Yeri is very sick. Sicker than you realize. The infection in his chest didn’t stay there. It’s systemic now. Yeri is septic.”
“I’ll take him to the hospital,” George started, but Sasha cut him off with a gesture.
“No. He goes to the hospital, he dies there. When he is outside, he draws strength from the earth. Earlier today, outside, I saw a network, a web of power inside him. It was earth power, and it was healing him. Very slowly, but it was doing more against the infection than I could. All I can do is heal his injuries and support him against the infection. His power is the only chance he has. Take him outside, George, if you want him to live.”
“I looked earth talent up while you were resting. The information I saw made no mention of anything like this. Weather prediction, natural disaster prediction, sure. But pulling power from the ground? Healing himself? That’s a fantasy.”
“I saw what I saw.” Sasha crouched down and met George’s gaze. “Listen to me. Earth talent is very rare. No two talents are exactly the same; you know, we all have variations in our strengths, our abilities. I am a level two healer, almost a level one but not quite. Yeri is something else again. Have you seen his scan?”
“I looked at it, but I didn’t really understand it.” George shrugged. “Animal telepathy, Taiki said, and something else, this earth talent, though we didn’t know that until today.”
“Did Taiki tell you how strong Yeri’s talents are?”
George appeared taken aback, but his expression was thoughtful. “If he did, I don’t recall it.”
“Yeri is a double prime. There is no level stronger. There has never been a recorded instance of an earth prime, but that is what he indisputably is. There’s no telling what he can and can’t do with earth power if he wanted to. His talent is a matter of record, not fantasy. Taiki and I have done our best to bury that record, by the way.”
“He’s also the only known Rovani composer,” George said quietly. “I don’t want to lose him, Sasha.”
“Then, take him outside, before it’s too late.”
George stood up slowly, bringing Yeri up with him. The Rovani protested softly, his words incoherent. He trembled violently as he stood, and Sasha feared Yeri would collapse. He quickly stood and helped George take Yeri’s weight. The Rovani was solid muscle and weighed more than he did.
Between them, they got Yeri moving. The early evening air was pleasant, and there was a hint of flowering trees on the gentle breeze. They reached the woolen blanket, still spread under the overarching branches of the oak tree and laid Yeri back down. Sasha ducked back inside, gathering up Yeri’s half-eaten meal and his coffee, as well as the soft blanket that had been covering him. He took all this outside to where George was waiting. He handed George the tray. “If he’ll eat for you, the more he can get down, the better.” Then, he covered Yeri with the blanket. It didn’t interfere with the power the Rovani was once more drawing from the earth.
Impulsively, he set a hand on George and concentrated. Not many could learn do this psionic trick, nor was their much point to it, but right now, it was extraordinarily useful. “Look at him, George.” Through his psi, George could now see what he saw. Namely, the earth power Yeri was drawing, and the network it created within the Rovani’s body. “Do you see it?”
George had gasped softly when he’d looked at Yeri, now he nodded. “I see it.”
Sasha released the connection and stepped away. He knelt and checked on Yeri. The Rovani appeared to be deeply asleep or unconscious. It was hard to tell without probing him.
George sat down beside Yeri and stroked the mane back from his face. “Yeri,” he called. “Wake up. You need to finish your dinner.” When Yeri didn’t respond, George tried again with the same lack of result.
Sasha finally probed, touching the Rovani’s mind lightly. “He’s unconscious, almost like a trance-state. I don’t think he can wake up right now, it might harm him if I forced him up.”
George stroked Yeri’s head once more. “We’ll check on him after dinner, then.” He stood up and gestured to the house.
Sasha stood as well. “I thank you for your hospitality,” he began.
“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do in exchange for your expertise and priceless talents.”
Chapter Ten
A single flawless note wavered in the still air, expanding in a rush to fill the silence. It slid down the scale accompanied now by strings. The melody danced between the notes of the strings, haunting and pure. The throb of tympani drums gave the melodic line support, rhythm. The woodwinds spoke, the clarinets and the oboes adding depth with their lovely tones. The melodic line spun and swirled higher. Yeri’s fingers twitched as the music filled him. He opened his eyes and studied the stars above. They were beautiful like the music. In fact, it felt as if the stars themselves were singing to him. As the star music poured through him, he contemplated the relationship between stars, music, and psi.
An endless time passed as the music sang to him. A stray cloud passed overhead, and he blinked, feeling as though he’d just lost his grip on something profound. Back in reality, he contemplated his situation. He didn’t want to
move, but he didn’t want to lose the melody, either. He sighed in frustration.
“Yeri?” George touched his forehead.
What is my master doing out here in the middle of the night? What am I doing out here in the middle of the night? He managed to turn his head toward the man. “Master?” he croaked. His throat was surprisingly dry.
George slid an arm under his shoulders and lifted him into a sitting position. It hurt, but Yeri had expected the pain and managed not to utter a peep. George pressed the rim of a glass to his lips, and Yeri obediently took a swallow. Chicken broth, he identified. It was cold but still tasted good. The glass wasn’t removed, so Yeri took several more swallows until he felt he’d had enough. He turned his head slightly. George understood; he put the glass down.
“Why are we outside, master?”
“You need to be out here according to Sasha. He says your earth talent is healing your infection.” George’s voice was level, but his scent was full of worry and fear for Yeri. “I’m out here in case you need anything. It’s not that bad, I’ve got an air mattress; you can’t use it, though. Sasha says you have to remain connected to the ground. That wool blanket is all you can have between you and the earth.”
Yeri could feel the earth beneath him; he could feel the power deep below and knew he was tapping that power. He felt better than he had at dinnertime. He wasn’t freezing, at least. He reached for the glass, but George beat him to it. George held it for him as he drank some more.
“Marra had the idea for the broth,” George mentioned.
“Thank you, master. And Thia, of course.” Yeri wanted to lean against George but thought better of it. “Master, would you do something for me, please?”
“Sure, Yeri.” There was no hesitation in George’s voice or scent. The man wasn’t upset at Yeri’s presumption, though that could be because Yeri rarely asked for anything at all.
“Would you please get my glasses, my notebook, and something to write with?”