by Anne Bishop
They weren’t going to leave him alone with a restrained man—and he didn’t want them to. But he leaned over the bed and said quietly, “That place you saw the other day. Is that where you belong?”
“Yes,” Vito sobbed. “I found home. But it’s gone.”
“It wasn’t supposed to stay,” Lee said. “It was meant to be a chance for you to look, to let your heart feel.”
“I found home.”
“I don’t know if you’ll find that exact piece of the world, but I can help you find the place it came from.”
The sobs trailed off and finally stopped.
“You can find it?” Vito asked.
“I can give you a chance to find it. But the first thing you have to do is get well enough to be released from this room. There are steps you’ll have to take, things you’ll need to do. If you can do them, I’ll help you.”
Lee stepped back from the bed. “Could you take me to the temple? I’d like to spend some time there while we wait for news about Zeela.”
A pause. Then Kobrah said, “Yes, I’ll take you there.”
Ephemera flowed through the currents of power in this part of itself, waiting for the Lee-heart to find the new access point and cross over to the Music, waiting for Voice-guide to listen to another heart and help it shape a little making. She did not want it bringing other pieces of itself to this place, but she wouldn’t be unhappy with it if another Guide helped it make something new.
But the Lee-heart passed by the access point, not even looking when it pushed the stolen time above the ground. So it added violets to the access point. She always smiled when it made violets from the Music’s song.
Then Voice-guide approached the access point and picked up the stolen time, but didn’t take the step between here and there. So the world flowed through the currents of itself, both Light and Dark, changing little pieces of itself to match the resonance of the strongest hearts. And it waited.
Danyal and Benham watched Kobrah and Nik settle Zeela into Lee’s bed.
Benham turned away from the door and pitched his voice low. “You’re leaving a wounded woman in the hands of an inmate. Do you think that’s wise?”
“Maybe not, but it’s the choice I’m making,” Danyal replied absently, his mind preoccupied with the new planting in the flower bed between the inmates’ residence and the temple. Slipping his hand in the pocket of his white robe, he fingered the pocket watch that had pushed itself out of the ground as he studied the plants. He was still waiting for some response to his last report to the Council, but in all the years he’d been a working Shaman, and even during the years when he’d been training, he’d never heard of the world being this responsive, this active.
“I’ve overheard enough whispers lately to know many of the Handlers are wondering the same thing I am about Lee.”
“And what is that?”
“If he’s someone from The Temples. Not a Shaman, but someone who might be strongly connected.”
Danyal looked at Benham in surprise. “What makes you think that? Have you forgotten his uncles or how he came to the Asylum?”
“Oh, no one has forgotten that, especially since those men used to come by often to check on him but have suddenly stopped visiting. You treat him more like an injured colleague than an inmate, and after you dismissed those false Handlers and got him clean of the drugs they were giving him, he has acted more like someone who is used to being in charge. So there is speculation among the Handlers about who he really is. I thought you should know.”
“I appreciate that.” And it’s still a question I would like answered myself. Especially after seeing the latest change in the flower bed.
Tap tap. Tap tap.
They both turned as Lee tapped his way down the hallway.
“Lee,” Danyal said, giving him time to stop.
“Shaman.” Lee tipped his head. “Meddik Benham?”
“It seems your hearing has sharpened,” Benham said.
“And you wear a distinctive cologne,” Lee replied, smiling.
Kobrah and Nik stepped out of the room.
“See to your other duties now,” Danyal told them.
“And I’ll see to my other patients,” Benham said. “I left a dose of pain medicine on the dresser. If Zeela needs it, Handler Zhahar can give it to her.” He hesitated, then gave Danyal a nod—and gave Lee a searching look.
“Benham and others are speculating that we’re colleagues,” Danyal said.
Lee’s smile didn’t look easy or amused. “That’s true, since Landscapers and Bridges have complementary skills that help keep the world balanced.”
“I found another pocket watch on the ground beside some little purple flowers and a nightshade plant.” He had felt the power of tidal waves and avalanches when he’d looked at that plant. Noting the sudden tightness in Lee’s face, he asked, “Do you know it by another name?”
“Where I come from, we call it belladonna.”
“What does it mean, Lee?”
“That depends. Was there a heart’s hope plant in the same bed or nearby?”
Light. Hope. “I don’t know a plant by that name, but one I’ve never seen before appeared a few days ago. It seems to lift the spirits of everyone who walks by.”
Lee sighed. “Message received.”
“Lee?” Danyal’s voice sharpened.
“Let it go, Danyal. For now, let it go. Zeela needs care.”
“I’d like to speak to Zhahar.”
Lee felt his way to the door and into the room. “I’ll tell her. Wait here a few minutes.”
The door closed. A couple minutes later, Zhahar opened the door and slipped out of the room. She had dark circles under her eyes and moved like she was in pain.
“Shaman?”
“You’re relieved of all duties for today and tomorrow. Get some rest and tend your sister. There is pain medicine on the dresser.”
“Yes, Lee mentioned it.”
“Your sister Sholeh can take her meals in the Handlers’ dining hall.” When she nodded, he added, “I’ll take a cart and a couple of men back to your rooms and clear out the rest of your things before they’re stolen.”
She paled, and he wondered what she’d left behind.
“That isn’t necessary.”
“No, it’s not, but it will be done.”
“Thank you.”
Bright water. Summer lake. But the storm, the strength he usually felt in her was dimmed—but not, he hoped, failing. “Get some rest.”
She slipped back into the room.
Perhaps it was foolish to go back to a street that was clearly changing into something troubled, but…
Kindness is a gift to yourself as well as to another.
One of the basic lessons.
Thinking about the plants in the garden—the heart’s hope and the plant Lee called belladonna—Danyal had a feeling that when it truly mattered, every bit of kindness he gave was going to be counted.
Lee’s fingers brushed against Zhahar’s arm. “Sit down before you fall down.” He waited until she sat on the bed, then sat beside her. “How bad is it?”
“Lots of stitches. More than we’d thought there would be. Sholeh has withdrawn. She doesn’t deal well with the sight of blood.”
Must be interesting with the two of you as sisters, Lee thought. “Sholeh said you’re hurt too. How bad?”
“Oh, I’m not—”
“She said the wound was showing through. You can tell me what that means, or I can haul you to the infirmary.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“You’re in no shape to stop me.”
Two voices said some very bad words—and he was sure that, being a one-face, he couldn’t do a lot of what they were suggesting he do.
“That’s it.” He took a firm grip on her arm.
“No!” Zhahar slumped. Then she sucked in a breath. “I have a bruise in the same place as the knife wound. A bad bruise. People would ask too many questions if they s
aw it. But it’s not a cut or anything. Just a bruise.” She hesitated. “And I’m staying close enough to Zeela to support her, so right now someone could feel her stitches under my skin.”
“I see,” he said. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about supplying her sister with physical energy, life energy, or something else, but he wondered if Zeela would have survived this long if Zhahar hadn’t been taking on some of the effects of the wound.
“I put our money belt in the dresser under your other set of clothes,” Zhahar said. “I put the key to our rooms there too. You should give it to Shaman Danyal if he’s really going to fetch the rest of our things.”
“I’ll see that he gets the key. And the dresser is as good a place as any for the money belt right now.” Releasing her arm, he began rubbing her back, an easy motion meant to soothe and comfort. “What’s the best thing for you to do now? I think Zeela needs to be in view, since different people are going to be taking watch and Benham is bound to check on her. But we can slide around that if we need to.”
“If she wasn’t so hurt, it would be better for Zeela to stay submerged and rest, but if there was trouble, she might not be able to come back into view and get help in time.”
Which meant every minute she and Sholeh had been in view in the effort to get them to safety had put Zeela at risk. Had Zhahar and Sholeh also been at risk? Those kinds of questions would have to wait until he could get Sholeh alone—or as alone as any of them could be. The little sister could be coaxed into giving him more information than the other two.
“So except for meals, which Sholeh can eat for you…” He frowned. “Can she eat for all of you?”
“Yes, but don’t let her eat any spicy foods. Zeela and I aren’t up to dealing with the result when it reaches the other end.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Finally, “Got it. No spicy food for Sholeh. Anything else?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
He heard her voice slur from exhaustion. He continued to rub her back and felt her relax. She was still a dark blob in a room filled with gray light, but that showed him enough. Tipping her face toward his, he kissed her. Warmth and comfort. A physical reminder that she wasn’t alone.
“You can see me?” she asked when he eased back.
“A little,” he said, giving her the truth. “Dark shapes in gray light. But I’ve been kissing girls in the dark since I was fifteen, so I’ve had a bit of practice.” He kissed her again, adding a little heat. Not enough to stir her, but enough to give her something to think about.
That kiss stirred him plenty, though.
He stood up. “Get yourself settled in bed so Zeela can come into view.”
She did as she was told while he positioned the wooden chair near the end of the bed.
“Lee.”
Zeela’s voice was slurred. He didn’t know if it was from the wound and loss of blood, or the pain, or the medicine they had given her for the pain.
His fingertips followed the edge of the bed until he found her hand. Her fingers closed around his, but there was no strength in her grip, and that worried him.
“Rest, Zeela. You can rest now.”
“Shaman. Going to our rooms. He’ll find things. About us. He’ll…”
“I don’t think he’ll find anything he can’t understand or accept. No matter what he finds, he won’t ask you to leave before you’re well enough to travel. And if he asks then, well, I know some people who could take a Tryad pretty much in stride. Although I can’t promise you won’t be pestered with questions.”
Zeela made an effort to smile. “If they offer fair exchange, Sholeh will answer questions every minute she’s in view.”
That was exactly what he was counting on. He had information about all kinds of landscapes he could put on the table in exchange for information about the Tryad.
“Well, then. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Her hand went lax. He listened to her breathing even out into what he hoped would be a healing sleep. Then he sat back and thought about the people he was growing to care about here—and the people he’d left behind.
Danyal walked down the street where Zhahar lived. Thin ice. Black slush. Dead trees. Spring flowers withering as they tried to grow.
He hoped it hadn’t felt that way all the time Zhahar had lived here.
His white robe told everyone watching from the street or doorways what he was. Some made a sign of blessing. An equal number saw him and, shrinking back, made a sign against evil.
What else had walked this street recently, hiding what it was? Or pretending to be something that it wasn’t?
In a few more days, he wasn’t sure any Shaman would be able to see this street anymore. Something else he needed to report to the Council.
When he reached the building where Zhahar had her rooms, he left Denys to watch the pony and cart while he and Nik took traveling bags and carry sacks up the stairs to Zhahar’s rooms.
Their rooms? She had, after all, lived here with her sisters.
Not much left behind, he thought as he scanned the front room and the little cooking area. But enough.
“Start with the books,” he told Nik. “I’ll pack up the other room.”
When he opened the dresser drawers and saw the underclothes, he wished he had brought Kobrah. Not because women’s underclothes were unfamiliar—as he’d told Lee, Shamans weren’t celibate—but because he could picture Zhahar’s embarrassment that he’d seen what was intimate.
Then he picked up a carving and knew she wouldn’t fear him seeing her underclothes, but this.
A triangle of wood as high as his forefinger. On each side, a woman’s face. The faces were similar to each other, enough that one would call them sisters, but different enough not to be the same woman with different expressions. No, this…
Body, heart, and mind, he thought, turning the wood as he studied each face and decided what the expression represented. Or body, heart, and spirit? Pushing aside the underclothes, he found a flat piece of wood with a picture burned into it. Another woman’s face, but she had a third eye in her forehead.
That represented spirit. Maybe wisdom as well?
He wrapped them in underclothes and tucked them into the travel bag.
Why wood? Was that the usual medium for the sacred symbols of Zhahar’s people? Or were these made of wood because they could be burned if someone got too close to suspecting the truth? Whatever that was.
Lee said her name was Sholeh Zeela a Zhahar. One person with the name of all three sisters?
She hadn’t been honest with him, and that scratched. He was chosen for difficult assignments because he could be trusted, was trusted.
It all came down to trust, didn’t it?
The Shaman Council had made him the Asylum Keeper here because they’d said he was needed, that the city of Vision was going to need a bridge to span the distance between people.
As he checked every drawer and packed everything he could find, Danyal wondered if the council had sent him to the Asylum to be that bridge, or if they had sent him there because he would be trusted by the man who could span the distance between people.
Chapter 17
Zhahar slowly came into view, careful not to disturb the bandages. The stitches were only in Zeela’s body, although she could feel them under her own skin, a sign that Zeela was still borrowing strength from her aspect. But the bandages, like clothes, had to be worn by all of them, or they wouldn’t be there for Zeela when she came into view.
Soft light came through the screened window, but not a breath of air. The heat in the small room was a weight against Zhahar’s skin, and she desperately wanted to slip away to the bathing room and soak in a tub of cool water for a while.
A shape stirred in the chair, drew in a breath.
“Hey-a,” Lee said, sounding sleepy. He leaned forward, reaching until his fingers brushed against her hand. “How are you feeling?”
“It’s Zhahar.”
“You can tell just by touching my hand?”
“You feel different from your sisters. You smell different.”
Feeling self-conscious because she was pretty sure she stank right now, she pushed herself up and eased her legs over the side of the bed—and was glad Lee couldn’t see her wince from the effort. “We all use the same soap.” And had argued for an hour in the shop while trying to find a scent all three of them liked because they could afford only one.
“It smells a little different on each of you.” Lee sat back and smiled. “A bit tart on Zeela; sweeter on Sholeh. Just right on you.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“Would you like some broth?”
Now she knew what to say. “Sholeh had beans and rice with chicken. And she had two servings of the sweet.” Unfortunately, even to her own ears, she sounded pouty when she said it.
“Sholeh doesn’t have a wound that’s showing through,” Lee replied with enough bite to make her wary. “However, Kobrah said you liked those dishes, so she set some aside for you. But I’m not sure you want them for breakfast.”
“I’m hungry. I wouldn’t mind.” She looked at the window and frowned. She remembered Sholeh telling her about the meal—and the odd wobble that was close to panic in her youngest sister’s voice. She remembered keeping her aspect close enough to Zeela’s to feel someone wiping down arms and legs to ease the fever, and wished she could feel that cool cloth on her own skin. She remembered hearing Lee and Danyal talking but couldn’t recall what they had said. Hearing Kobrah. Hearing Benham.
“Yesterday morning,” Lee said.
“What?”
“I can see you well enough to know you’re looking at the window, so you’re probably wondering how much time has passed since Sholeh knocked on my door. That was yesterday morning. You’ve hardly been in view, and when you have been, you sounded punch-drunk.”
His voice had that bite again that she finally realized was caused by an effort to control his temper.