Children of the Healer

by Barbara Ann Wright

  The woman disappeared and was replaced by someone else. Simon felt more coming, carried by drushka in an endless parade. He and Horace worked as fast as they could, their powers as one. Simon kept muttering, “Done, done, done,” as he healed, and patients were replaced as fast as the drushka could move them.

  Still, some died before they reached him.

  The ground seemed to fall away as Simon stretched his powers. Pool lifted him and Horace, moving them farther into the city. As soon as the tree set him down, the parade of patients began again, and Simon cast his power over them all.

  “Done, done, done.”

  Pool moved them again. Simon was dimly aware of the drushka breaking into houses to drag out sick and injured people. There were a few cries of alarm quickly calmed by other human voices: the renegades, paladins, and yafanai working to help.

  Horace directed a few of the yafanai, and Simon sensed his frustration. His voice sounded weak, and Simon turned some power in his direction.

  “No, don’t worry about me,” Horace said.

  A hard thing to ask, but Simon forced himself to obey. Horace played triage, his power finding those most in need. He guided Simon’s power where it was needed most, reaching for the patients before they even arrived.

  The rhythms of the human body surrounded Simon, and he sank into the pulse of the city. It would have repelled him once. It had once terrified Horace, but they had no choice. Simon soon lost track of where they were, of the feel of the sun or the wind. Sounds faded into dim irritants and then to nothing. His lips moved, but he could no longer hear himself.

  “Done, done, done.”

  At last, he reached and found no one to fix.

  Simon blinked. His eyes felt gummy and sore. The palisade was in front of him again. Had he gone all around the city or all the way across? His left fingers cramped, but he couldn’t remember what to do about that. Someone was holding his hand, and he followed the line of an arm to see Horace passed out next to him. Simon tried to heal him, but his power moved sluggishly, and his body felt like a wet sponge. His skull ached, and he couldn’t quite get the power together to heal it. Funny, he’d always wondered what his true limits were.

  “More?” he asked, his throat raw. He burst into coughing.

  Reach held a waterskin to his lips. “Drink, and rest.”

  He sipped the water gratefully. “Are there more?”

  “No, shawness. Your work is done.”

  He looked up at her, and pain stabbed through his neck. Her face was in torchlight, and her orange hair seemed to glow. Darkness surrounded them. “What time is it? Is Horace all right?”

  “Shawness Horace is sleeping,” she said with a frown. “As you should be. It is past midnight.” She waved a hand, and several drushka appeared, lifting Horace away from him. He tried to stand but couldn’t. Two drushka put their arms around him and lifted him, too. He could barely feel their touch, but he wanted to sink into it.

  Still, he had his pride. “I can walk!” His eyelids betrayed him by slipping closed. They’d arrived in Gale at midday. How the hell could it be after midnight? No wonder he was exhausted, and Horace had passed out.

  “Rest in our hands, shawness,” Reach said. “We will watch over you, your mate, and the boy Pakesh.” She began to hum, and the melody spread through Simon’s limbs, soothing him in drushkan arms. “Let the world fall away.” The sound of her song carried him into darkness.

  When Simon finally awoke, it was to the gentle creaking of Pool’s branches, a sound he’d become comfortably familiar with in a very short time. The feeling of the drushka surrounded him, and shifting shadows and light drifted across the large branch outside one of Pool’s sleeping cubbies.

  Horace was snuggled next to him, forehead pressed against his arm, one hand on his chest. Blankets had been tucked around them, but as usual, Horace had shrugged them off, and Simon had pulled them to his chin. The bliss of Reach’s song had stayed with him, and safe in the rhythms of Pool’s tree, he could have stayed there forever, never mind how far they were off the ground.

  “Shawness,” Pool said in his mind. “I sense you are awake. We have need of you.”

  Simon suppressed a groan. “Now?” he whispered.

  “Humans are awake in Gale. Most are weak, though none seem in danger. They want answers, shawness. Liam is with them. Our captives have been returned, but they wish to hear from their healer, from you.”

  Horace stirred. “When Pool talks in your mind, it sounds like a buzzing swarm,” he mumbled.

  Simon smiled. Horace couldn’t share in drushkan telepathy. Simon supposed a human either had to become one with them like he’d done in the birthing pod or had to leave their body, as Cordelia could.

  “The people we healed want to talk to us,” Simon said.

  “Will you come?” Pool asked.

  He smiled, liking that she always asked, never demanded. He wondered if that was one reason her drushka obeyed her without question. From what she’d said, the old queens subjugated the minds of their drushka, but Pool would never do something like that, not when she admired freedom as much as she did.

  He felt her amusement and realized they were still linked. The idea didn’t bother him nearly as much as it would have nine months ago, when he’d first come to Calamity. “We’re on our way.”

  He and Horace struggled upright. A drushka waited outside with water and dried meat. They chewed thoughtfully while the tree lowered them to the ground.

  “Travel rations?” Horace asked as he gnawed.

  The drushka spread his hands. “The queen thought it best, shawness. We do not know the source of the poison in this city. Food will be a problem. If we are to hunt, we will need to travel into the swamp.”

  “Where the old queens are,” Simon said with a sigh. “Or venture out into the plains again.”

  “Oh good,” Horace said. “I don’t know what I’d do without a load of problems.”

  Simon snorted a laugh that he bottled when they reached the crowd inside the gates of Gale. When it became clear who he was, word spread, and people pressed into the streets to gawk at him.

  Liam pushed through to Simon, Jon Lea at his side. The horde of people closed after them, more joining the crowd until it reached both sides of the street.

  “We’ve set patrols,” Jon Lea said, “to watch for looting or anyone trying to take advantage of the broken doors.”

  Simon thought that might be a jibe at the drushka for breaking in when they had to, but the man said it with his usual lack of expression. No doubt he was just stating the facts.

  Pool joined them. “Your soldiers should also watch for members of the old people.”

  “How will we know them from you?” Lea asked.

  Pool gestured to her green hair. “My drushka have shorn hair. The old drushka wear theirs long, braided. I will keep watch for them, too.”

  Lea nodded. “I’ll spread that around. And maybe you should keep your drushka outside the palisade for now, as much as possible, anyway, until we know the situation.”

  Simon shook his head, offended by the very idea that Gale would ban its saviors. Before he could launch into a tirade, Horace touched his arm.

  “I’m not sensing fear from the crowd when they look at Pool,” Horace said. “Some might even feel safer with her here.”

  “Right now,” Lea said. “Later? Who knows?”

  Pool rested her long fingers on Simon’s and Horace’s shoulders, her claw prominent for Lea to see, but she couldn’t very well help that. “Perhaps it is better to be cautious,” she said. “If you find drushka who are not mine, please, do not kill them. Bring them to me, and I will see them dealt with.”

  “You got it.” Lea jerked a thumb at the crowd and looked to Simon. “You ready to talk?”

  “Just a sec.” Simon leaned close to Liam as Lea turned back to the crowd. “Well, he seems to have accepted our return readily enough. Think the others will follow?”

  “Lea’s alw
ays been practical,” Liam said. “You can count on him to do what needs to be done.”

  “Like finding the source of the poison,” Horace said. “Now that I know what I’m looking for, I can detect it in a living creature.”

  Liam nodded. “Water’s a likely source, too.”

  “Take Reach with you to search, shawness,” Pool said to Horace. “Then you can sniff the poison out.”

  Horace gave Simon’s hand a squeeze before he walked back toward the tree. Without his presence, the crowd seemed to loom. Simon breathed deep and tried to summon the confidence he’d felt when he’d first emerged from the drushkan pod. Pool was still with him, and that brought him some comfort. He moved closer to the crowd and raised a hand for their attention.

  People wanted answers, so he gave them what he knew, starting with finding the lone drushka on the plains and hearing that Gale was in trouble. He also told them the Storm Lord was dead, but it seemed most had already heard that from the returned paladins and yafanai, though versions of what had happened differed. The crowd had a decidedly mixed reaction to the news, everything from tears to smiles. Simon didn’t even know how to begin to help them heal from that.

  “We’re trying to find the source of the poison now,” Simon said. “But—”

  “What about the missing?” someone asked.

  Simon stuttered to a halt. “Missing what?”

  One of the soldiers stepped forward, and he recognized her from the tree, one of Cordelia’s renegades. “We’ve been sorting through everyone,” she said. “Living and, um, dead. There are two hundred people unaccounted for.”

  Simon fell silent, stunned. How could he have missed them?

  “We didn’t miss anyone,” Horace thought to him. Even when they weren’t side by side, Horace was still with him. “They must not have been here.”

  The crowd began to murmur, and the soldier spoke again. “We searched the fields and sent some people into the plains in case they tried to run from the illness. Some people say they remember drushka in the city after everyone was already sick.”

  “What’s your name?” Simon asked, impressed by her efficiency.

  “Jacobs, sir.”

  He waved the sir away. “Simon, please, everyone. I’m not a god, and I’m not in charge.” Though standing at the head of a crowd making speeches, it sure felt as if he was. Double damn. “I’m only a doctor, a healer, I guess.” He was about to babble on about being a botanist and biologist as he used to, but he bit his lip, suddenly missing Samira. “I’m only here to help.” He turned to Pool. “Do you think the old drushka could have something to do with these missing people?”

  “It is possible, shawness.”

  Simon looked to Liam. He’d been about to ask why the drushka hadn’t finished everyone off, but the poison would have done that without major healing. The old drushka might not know about him, might have assumed Pool would find a town of dead humans and two hundred missing ones.

  But why take people at all?

  “Oh God,” Simon said, covering his mouth. “They’re bait.”

  Liam’s eyes widened as if he’d reached the same conclusion. Pool seemed grim and looked to the swamp. Two hundred humans held captive in there? How the hell would Gale get them back?

  “We’ll keep searching,” Liam said as the crowd erupted in murmurs again. “We’ll double-check lists of the missing. If anyone’s been taken by the drushka, we’ll find them.”

  Someone shouted, “How?” and angry mutterings were peppered with pleas for the return of family or loved ones. Some asked what they were going to do for food and water. Simon sent out some soothing waves, and the crowd quieted, but those were all good questions.

  “You don’t have a mayor,” Simon said. “And right now there is no paladin captain, no god.” Some shuffled their feet, but they had to face the truth. “So we’ll have to work together. You have to trust each other and help each other. I won’t hide anything from you, and neither will Liam or Pool.” And bang, he realized he’d just set up the three of them as leaders. Double, triple, quadruple damn.

  He rushed ahead, trying to quash that idea before it could take hold. “Leaders…will emerge. Right now, take stock of what you have. Ask the drushka to inspect any food or water before you try it. Their noses are better than ours.” That got a few smiles. “If you have any concerns about violence or someone breaking the law, please direct those questions to Lieutenant Jon Lea.”

  “Is he the acting captain?” Jacobs asked.

  Simon looked to Liam, who shrugged. “I’m not a paladin anymore,” Liam said. And Lea had already gone.

  “That’s up to the paladins,” Simon said. “I suggest you work out for yourselves who’s in charge of what, who’s a paladin anymore and who’s not.”

  The crowd murmured again. It seemed as if the idea of working together to solve their problems might be more daunting than being told what to do. If they were all working together, they’d have no one to complain to, after all.

  Simon stared at them for a few more moments, waiting for other questions, but they stared at him just as expectantly. He froze, every bit of stage fright he’d ever had creeping within him. Liam cleared his throat awkwardly, but when Simon turned to him, he smiled.

  Liam faced the crowd. “Let’s get to work!”

  Some of them moved; others didn’t. They watched Simon with forlorn expressions. Tired of being stared at, he wondered what he should do until he noticed how messy the street was. Acting on his natural tidying impulses, he moved to a tipped rickshaw and righted it. He then picked up a piece of broken crockery and a wooden spoon. When he dared another look at what was left of the crowd, they were dispersing, some randomly tidying like him. Another group had gathered near a mess of spoiled fruit and were discussing how to handle it. Some still seemed purposeless or worried, but at least they were moving.

  “You did well, shawness,” Pool said.

  “I do not want to be a leader.”

  “Sometimes, want and need intersect; sometimes, they do not.” She spread her hands and wrinkled her narrow nose.

  He picked up another bit of trash. If he acted quickly, maybe they’d put him in charge of cleanup. At least it was one job he knew he could handle.

  Chapter Five

  Cordelia limped through the plains, leading the ossor with Nettle atop it. Nettle had already tried to fall out of the saddle, so Cordelia tied her aboard with pieces of shredded shirt. Now Nettle’s head lolled against her chest most of the time, her eyes rheumy and unfocused. Her skin had faded from dark brown to ashy gray. Cordelia had to force herself not to watch for every labored breath.

  She didn’t want to stop, not even to change the pathetic excuse for bandages tied around the wound in Nettle’s stomach. Whenever new blood leaked through, Cordelia just pressed new cloth against the old. Why the fuck hadn’t she paid more attention to the medics when she’d seen them work? She’d always thought of injuries as someone else’s problem.

  Maybe Nettle needed a distraction. Cordelia chattered about nothing, trying to summon some of Liam’s drunken, carefree spirit, but she had to stop and gulp for air as her leg throbbed. Though the air was cool, the sun beating on her head had soaked her in sweat, and the occasional breeze took her from boiling hot to shivering cold within moments.

  “Your people believe in a life after dying, do they not?” Nettle asked when Cordelia paused for breath. “Where you are reunited with those lost?”

  “Some do. They think the Storm Lord will care for them, that he cares for all the dead.” She shook her head violently. “No, we’re not talking about that. No one’s dying today.”

  Nettle stared ahead as if not seeing or hearing. “A pleasant idea. I would like to see my son again.”

  Cordelia stumbled as she turned. “Your…”

  “My son Nush. He died…” She shook her head. “Long ago. I did not have many summers at the time. And I do not like to think on it. Perhaps if we drushka thought there might be
life beyond death, we would think on the past more often.” She frowned. “Would that make us more human?”

  Cordelia blinked a few times, her mind whirling. Nettle had a child? And he’d died? And this was the first Cordelia was hearing about it? On the spot, she couldn’t think of any secrets she’d kept, but Nettle was more than seventy years old. And she’d already said she didn’t like to think about the past. Cordelia couldn’t be angry about something so painful.

  But it wasn’t anger, not really. It hurt. What if Nettle didn’t trust her?

  “Nush was always eating,” Nettle said. “Never stopped. His father named him after a fish that behaves in the same way.”

  “His father,” Cordelia whispered. She shivered and thought of something her mother had once said about the living reminiscing about the dead. It meant they were soon to follow. Cordelia tugged the ossor’s reins until Nettle was within reach. “I’m here, Nettle. Now. Please, stay with me.”

  Nettle blinked and looked down at her, smiling. “I am here, too, Sa. I thought telling you of Nush would take your mind from the pain of your leg.”

  Well, it had certainly done that. Cordelia limped forward again, staying at the ossor’s side. “What…happened to him?” She swallowed. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

  “We had a summer of storms, and there was hardly any dry ground after the floods. Many of the larger saleska, the progs, were washed into our territory, but there was not enough food for them. We tried to drive them away before they began hunting us. I and a few others caught one saleska alone, starving. I told Nush to stay clear, to use his sling from afar.” She wrinkled her nose. “He was young but obedient. When the saleska’s long tail lashed at him, he leapt into a tree, but the blow from the tail shook loose a dead branch. He must not have heard it falling above the creature’s roars, and it landed atop him.” She spoke without sorrow, as if the grief of the past was as dead and buried as her son. Cordelia felt it for her instead, a hollow opening in her chest.