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by Patricia Reding

  Dixon’s shoulders relaxed. He hadn’t realized until that moment how tense he’d been. He stroked her hair. Then, “That’s right,” he said, “you sleep now. We’ll be here when you awaken.”

  Through the afternoon, Basha and Therese stopped in from time to time. They demanded that Dixon and the twins eat something. Finally, to bring an end to their insistence, the three agreed that Adele could prepare lunch for them. Adele, who’d joined Mara’s group when the girls were infants, had become the compound residents’ favorite cook, always offering new and wonderful taste sensations.

  When lunch arrived, the smell of beef stew, and of puffy fresh rolls slathered in butter, filled the air. Though the fare made for the perfect meal choice for such a drizzly day, the three ate sparingly and in silence.

  Hours later, as Reigna sat bedside, dripping water into Mara’s mouth, she moved.

  Dixon rushed to her side. He took her hand while the twins stationed themselves on the other side of her cot.

  Mara’s eyes opened. Clearer now, her focus seemed more determined.

  He smiled. “How are you feeling?”

  She nodded.

  “Better?”

  “Fine.” She cleared her throat. “I’m . . . fine.”

  “You had us frightened there,” Reigna said.

  Mara turned her way. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. We’re just so glad that you’re awake.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “You were hit by an arrow, then fell down a precipice and hit your head on a rock,” Eden said. “Dixon carried you back here, and Kayson healed you, but you’ve been unconscious for the past three days.”

  Mara’s brow furrowed. “Hmmmm. I don’t remember.”

  At that moment, the door opened and Basha stepped in.

  Dixon glanced at her, smiled, and then turned his attention back to his patient. He brought her hand to his face and laid it against his cheek. “It’s all right,” he said. “You’re going to be all right now.”

  When she drew her hand down and then pulled her blanket up further, he helped her to readjust her coverings.

  Basha stepped to his side. Looking down, she smiled at Mara. “Well, it’s about time,” she said. “I feared you were getting lazy, what with this three day nap of yours.”

  Mara looked at her latest visitor, then turned back to Dixon. “You brought me here?”

  “That’s right.” He glanced at Reigna and Eden. “Would you two let Lucy know that she’s awake?”

  “Sure thing,” Reigna said. “We’ll be right back.”

  Mara’s eyes followed the twins as they made their way out. When the door closed behind them, she turned back to Dixon. “They’re lovely young women.”

  Smiling now, tears sprang to his eyes. “They certainly are,” he agreed.

  “Who are they?”

  Basha sucked in her breath. Her eyes flashed up at Dixon.

  He leaned in. “Never mind that, Mara,” he said, softly. “You just rest now.”

  She tried to sit up. “No. No, I’m all right.” She looked from him, to Basha, then tipped her head to the side. “Who are you?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

  Basha let her breath out slowly. “I’m Basha . . . Therese’s Oathtaker.”

  Mara blinked repeatedly. “Therese?”

  “Excuse us just a minute, Mara,” Dixon said as he grabbed Basha’s arm and pulled her to the side. “Don’t let Lucy in here,” he ordered.

  “But Dixon—”

  “Don’t let her in here! If she sees Mara like this, there’s no telling what she might report to the Council. Keep her out!”

  Basha glanced at Mara. “You’re right,” she said. Then she stationed herself at the door just as Lucy and the twins reached it from the other side. Opening it before any of them could, she stepped out. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

  Dixon, having returned to Mara’s bedside, listened to the conversation going on outside.

  “Mara’s not up to having any company just now.”

  “I just want to see that she’s all right,” Lucy said.

  “I’m sorry. She’s . . . good. She’s . . . fine. She just . . . She . . .” Basha paused. “She just doesn’t want to see anyone right now. She wants to rest.”

  “What’s going on, Basha?”

  “Nothing! Nothing. Mara just wants to rest, is all.”

  “Then why did you send for me?”

  “I’m sorry. We thought she’d be up to having visitors, but she’s not. We’ll let you know when she’s ready.”

  Basha stepped back inside, watched Lucy walk away, and then closed the door. She recalled all the times she’d heard Mara say: “Some things you ask. Some things you tell. When there’s no room for discussion, dissent, or compromise, you tell.”

  To her surprise, the door opened again as Reigna and Eden sought entrance.

  Basha stood firm. “Please, girls, Mara needs to rest now.”

  Reigna’s eyes narrowed. “But she’s awake.”

  “Yes, but we’re encouraging her to rest more. I’ll let you know when she’s ready to see you.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “She’s . . . fine. She just needs some peace and quiet.”

  “Come on, Reigna,” Eden said, taking her sister’s elbow, “let’s find something useful to do. Maybe some studying. It’ll keep us busy. We can come back later to see how she’s doing.” She turned away.

  Sulking, Reigna followed her.

  Basha watched the twins dodge the rain as they crossed the walkway and made their way back to the cabin they shared with their Oathtaker and Dixon. She leaned her forehead against the doorframe, closed her eyes, and sighed. Then she returned to Dixon’s side.

  Mara struggled to sit up. When he tried to assist her, she turned away from his efforts.

  Basha, watching, pulled him back. Then, “Let me do it, Dixon,” she said.

  He scowled at her.

  She held a finger up to stop him from saying anything, then helped Mara to sit up. Though still resistant, she allowed for the assistance.

  “Are you hungry?” Basha asked her, smiling.

  “Yes, I . . . I guess I am.”

  Basha motioned for Dixon to sit, then went to the table where the pot of beef stew still sat. She filled a bowl and grabbed a spoon.

  “Can you handle this on your own?” she asked upon returning.

  “Yes.”

  “Be careful. Not too much now. You haven’t eaten for a few days and don’t want to upset your stomach.”

  Mara ate a few spoonfuls, then handed the bowl back.

  All the while, Dixon watched.

  Finally, Basha looked at him, her brow raised. Then she turned back to their patient and leaned in. “Mara,” she said, “you didn’t recognize me. Is that right?”

  “You’re Basha.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” She motioned toward Dixon. “Do you know who this is?”

  Mara’s eyes followed the gesture. “Yes, of course.” She looked back at Basha. “That’s Dixon.”

  He smiled.

  “That’s right. How do you know him?”

  She blinked hard. “That’s what you called him.”

  “Good. Good. That’s right. Are you ready to rest more now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well.” Basha helped her to get comfortable.

  Within minutes, Mara slept soundly.

  Dixon stood, his hands on either side of the window, leaning forward and looking out at the rain.

  Basha approached. “She’s going to be fine, Dixon.”

  He bit his lip. “She doesn’t know me.”

  “She doesn’t know anyone right now.”

  “But she doesn’t know me!”

  She stroked his arm. “Shhh. Keep your voice down. You said yourself that you don’t want Lucy to know.”

  “Dear Ehyeh, what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I’d ask Velia, but she and
Jerrett left for supplies. We could get Therese’s input, though.”

  He stared at her. “We should keep this between ourselves.”

  “Therese won’t say anything. You know that.”

  “Even to Lucy?”

  “Especially to Lucy.”

  He sighed. “Fine, then.”

  “I’ll go get her now.”

  “Be discreet. Lucy would be sure to find offense if we don’t allow her in to see Mara, but then do allow Therese in.”

  “Lucy’s at her cabin. I can get Therese without her knowing.”

  “And the girls? Oh, dear Ehyeh, what’ll we tell them?”

  “For now, we tell them nothing. I’ll be right back.”

  Quickly, Basha sprinted out. Minutes later, she returned with her charge at her side.

  Therese smiled at Dixon. “I hear Mara has awakened,” she said. “Thank the Good One for that!”

  His face turned ashen. “You didn’t tell her?” he asked Basha.

  Her eyes downcast, she shook her head.

  Therese looked from him, to her Oathtaker. “Tell me what?”

  “Whew!” Dixon dropped into a chair. “Tell her,” he said as he started patting a rhythm on his thigh.

  “Tell me what?” Therese asked again.

  Basha directed her to a nearby chair, then sat next to her. She let her breath out slowly. “Mara . . . doesn’t recognize any of us,” she said.

  “What?”

  “She doesn’t know who we are.”

  Therese stared at Dixon. “She didn’t recognize you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Surely the girls will refresh her memory. Don’t you think?”

  He dropped his head and held it in his hands. “That’s how we discovered she didn’t know us,” he said, looking back up.

  “She didn’t know them?”

  “That’s right.”

  “We could just tell her everything,” Basha suggested. “Maybe something we say will trigger her memory.”

  “No!” Therese exclaimed, emphatically.

  Dixon stared at her. “Whyever not?”

  “Dixon, you can’t just—just tell her everything she’s forgotten. It would frighten her. And if she rejects it, she may never come to a full realization of her own history and identity.” She paused, shaking her head. “No, we can’t tell her anything.”

  Basha went to the window and looked out at the rainfall. “Maybe Therese is right. When I was young, I had a good friend whose father had an accident. He couldn’t remember anything. When they told him everything he’d forgotten, he rejected it.” She turned back to Dixon and held his gaze. “He disappeared and was never seen again.”

  “I suppose you could say that I had a similar experience,” Therese said. “You know, when you all thought I’d been assassinated?” Absentmindedly, she touched the scar on her forehead left over from the event. “It took days for my memory to return after my accident. But in my case, no one told me anything. They couldn’t, I suppose, since they didn’t know anything about me. So they just . . . waited. Eventually, my memory returned.”

  Dixon started to his feet, but Therese restrained him. “She’ll be all right.”

  Basha returned to her seat. “Look, Dixon,” she said, “I know this is painful, but we have to come up with a plan here. A plan that doesn’t include forcing facts upon Mara that she may not be ready to hear.”

  “A plan?” Therese asked. “What do you mean? Why do we need a plan? We just . . . wait. Right?”

  Basha tilted her head. “Well for one thing,” she said, “Lucy can’t know.”

  “Why?” Therese sat up straighter.

  “If we don’t give Mara time to . . . you know, recollect things, to heal, to recover, Lucy might . . . Well, Lucy might take action to have the Council remove Mara as Oathtaker to the twins.”

  “That’s preposterous.”

  “Perhaps,” Basha agreed. “But you know Lucy. She can’t always be reasoned with where the twins are concerned. And Mara would hardly be in a position to argue her case before the Council.”

  “So, what do we do? We can’t keep this secret.”

  Dixon leaned back in his chair. “And what if she doesn’t . . . recollect things? What if—”

  Basha patted his arm. “Don’t borrow trouble. We have to believe she’ll be all right, or none of us will be of any use.” She paused. “Have faith. Ehyeh chose Mara for the girls. I trust that she’ll recover.”

  “She’s right, Dixon,” Therese said. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it away from her face. “So, then, what do we do?” she asked.

  The three went silent, all lost in thought.

  Finally, Dixon spoke. “I might have an idea.”

  “What?” Basha asked.

  “I could take her from here. Maybe if we revisited some of the places from her past it would . . . you know—”

  “Trigger her memory?” Therese interrupted.

  He shrugged. “It’s the only thing I can come up with.”

  “I like it,” Basha said. “We just need to get the two of you out of here before Lucy gets any time with Mara.”

  “What about Reigna and Eden?” Therese asked.

  Basha stood and paced. “Mara seemed very . . . inclined towards them,” she said. “I think that if we tell her they’re concerned for her, she’ll just do what comes naturally. They won’t have to know.”

  “But how will Mara explain leaving them?”

  “Maybe we just tell them that she needs to get away for a little respite.”

  “Whatever else happens,” Dixon whispered, “we can’t risk Lucy finding out.”

  Basha glanced Mara’s way as she awakened and tried to sit up.

  She rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Mara said, “but my mother is probably worried sick about me. I need to go home now.”

  “Stop. Stop. Stop,” Basha said, gently pressuring her to lie back. “We’ll help you to get home,” she continued when Mara ceased resisting. “You rest up and . . . and Dixon will take you.”

  Glancing his way, her eyes narrowed. Then she turned back to Basha. “Why don’t you take me?” she asked.

  He turned away. He couldn’t bear to see or hear more.

  Brushing Mara’s hair away from her face, Basha smiled. “Because no one would be better than Dixon to get you there safely. No one.”

  “All right,” she said, tentatively.

  He approached. “I’ll get you home safely, Mara, I promise.” He winked at her. It had become habit over the years. One of the first concessions she’d made to him when they’d both confessed their love for one another, years back, was that she loved when he winked at her.

  “All right, then. When can we leave?”

  “Soon. We’ll leave soon.”

  She closed her eyes and almost immediately, fell asleep.

  “What do you think, Dixon?” Basha asked.

  “I think we won’t be able to stop her for long. If I don’t agree to take her from here as soon as possible, she’ll just go on her own. She may not remember anything, but she’s still Mara.”

  Basha grinned. “Right.” She nudged him. “Listen, you haven’t rested for days. You should go get some sleep.”

  Seeing him about to argue, Therese cut him off. “Basha’s right. Every time Mara awakens, it’s going to become more difficult to settle her down. I know your attendant magic allows you to get by on little sleep, but you haven’t really conditioned yourself properly for that, as you ought. So you should start now. We’ll stay here. We’ll make sure she eats and rests, and we’ll keep Lucy at bay. You come back when you’re ready, and we’ll see then how she’s doing.”

  “Should I tell the girls anything?”

  “I think you should. Not everything, of course. But I think you should introduce the idea that Mara would like to go home for a short time.”

  “I don’t know if they’ll believe that.”

&n
bsp; “Why wouldn’t they?”

  He bit his lip. Then, “Because,” he said, “whenever, over the years, they asked her about where she grew up, she told them that she left as a young woman and never—ever—intends to go back.”

  “Maybe it would be better to go elsewhere then.”

  “Or at least say you’re going somewhere else,” Basha suggested.

  “No. I suppose I may as well keep that part in the open—just in case she says something to the girls.” He went to the door. “I’ll come up with something and then I’ll put some of her things together.”

  “Don’t forget her blade.” Basha picked up Mara’s blade, Spira, from the table. She went to his side and handed it to him.

  He looked at it. “What about clothing? All we have around here is Oathtakers’ garb.”

  “I’ll check with Adele and Nina.”

  He stepped out into the rain. If he could cry himself, he feared he’d gush just as the skies poured. He trudged across the center pathway, his feet heavy, his heart even more so.

  When he arrived at the cabin he shared with Mara and the twins, he stopped and took in a deep breath before stepping inside.

  Reigna rushed to his side. “How is she?”

  He stroked her hair. “She’s good, honey. She’s good.”

  “Is she awake now? Can we see her yet?” Eden asked as she approached.

  “Not just now. She’s resting.” He grinned half-heartedly. “Listen, I could use your help.”

  “What do you need?” Reigna asked.

  “Anything, Dixon,” Eden said.

  “Basha, Therese, and I, were talking. You know, it’s been a very long time since Mara has left the compound for anything other than a Council meeting.” He motioned to a nearby table, then joined them at it.

  He put his elbows down and leaned in. “I—we—think it would be good for her to . . . have a little . . . break. You know? So, I wondered if you’d help me put some of her things together.”

  “You’re going to take her away?” Reigna asked.

  “Just for a short time.” He sat back. “I think a respite from having to respond to the compound intrusions would be good for her. Don’t you agree? Besides, you know Mara. If she’s here, she’ll insist on supervising every detail herself. I think it would be good for her to—”