by Dane, Lauren
The woman in front of him looked blank for a moment. Then something else filtered into her eyes, an expression he couldn’t quite read, though it wasn’t sorrow or fear. “Teila’s really upset. She’s crying, hysterical. Says she needs you.”
“Why would she need me?” His words had nothing to do with how he felt, but there was no way he was going to give away anything emotional to Pera.
“I don’t know, she just does. You should come.”
He gave a last glance at the boat, which ideally needed another few coats of oil, but it wouldn’t hurt it to be left for a while. Again making sure his hands were completely free of any traces of the poisonous oil, he tossed the rag onto the workbench. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Upstairs in the lighthouse, the boy wailed in his bed while his mother, Vikus, and Billis had gathered around the slumped figure of the ancient Fenda in her rocking chair on the other side of the room. Teila looked up when he came in the room, and though tears streaked her cheeks she didn’t look hysterical. She did look surprised to see him.
“Pera came for me.”
Teila nodded, stepping away from the Fenda’s chair and giving a quick glance over her shoulder at her weeping son. “She’s gone. Stephin found her.”
At the sound of his name, the boy wailed louder. Crossing to the bed, Jodah sat next to him. “Shh. It’s all right.”
Stephin buried his face against Jodah’s chest. “I thought she was sleeping!”
Jodah passed a hand over the boy’s thick, dark hair. He pulled a milka bud from his pocket. “Here.”
The boy took it, sitting up to look at him. “Mao says not before dinner.”
“It’s fine,” Teila told him before Jodah could answer. Pera had arrived a few minutes behind Jodah, and Teila gestured at her. “Stephin, go to the kitchen with Pera. She’ll get your dinner for you. I’m going to take care of Amira Densi, all right?”
Stephin nodded, giving another tearful look toward the Fenda. “Can I say goodbye to her?”
“Of course you can.” Teila took him by the hand and led him to the chair.
Pera watched the boy tentatively put his arms around his amira, then hug her completely as he sobbed out a goodbye. “Disgusting.”
Teila hadn’t heard her, but the men had. Jodah shook his head at her, only to earn a wide-eyed look of innocence and a shrug. Vikus glared, while Billis looked uncomfortable.
“Go with Pera,” Teila told the boy. “Pera, can you please make sure Stephin gets his dinner?”
Pera’s smile stretched her mouth and showed her teeth, but looked more like a grimace. “Of course. Come on.”
When they’d gone, Teila turned to him. “We’ll need help wrapping her and carrying her outside. She’ll return to sand soon. I’d like to say some words over her before she does. I think Stephin would like to be there too.”
“Are you all right?” The question slipped out of him before he could stop it.
Tears still glittered in her eyes. “Yes. Densi was very old, and she’d been telling me for a while that it would soon be her time. I didn’t want to believe it or think about it, of course, because . . . well. Because I love her.”
Billis burst into muffled, snorting sobs. Vikus clapped him on the back, but the younger man couldn’t be soothed, even when Teila put her arms around him. Over his shoulder, she said to Vikus, “Take your brother to the kitchen and get him a drink. A strong one. Hush, shhh, Billis. It was her time.”
Even with her own pain at the forefront, she was so good at taking care of people, Jodah thought as he watched her comfort the younger man and send them both off. She turned to him, her features strained, weariness evident in every movement. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a long, slow sigh. Then her shoulders slumped and she put her hands over her face.
He didn’t think about anything else, not his anger or her lies. He gathered her against him and held her close. She gave a low cry but then melted against him. They stayed that way in silence while he measured the beating of his heart.
“Thank you,” she said finally, pulling away from him. Her eyes were dry, her smile sweet but a little wary.
Suddenly, he hated that he’d made her feel that way about him. Distrustful. He wanted to pull her close again, breathe the heady scent of her hair, but that would be selfish. Instead, he let her go.
“You’re welcome,” he said gruffly. “Let me help you.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”
27
All Fenda returned to sand when they died and, despite the sorrow of it, watching Densi’s disintegration was beautiful. They’d carried her wrapped in a canvas sheet, then laid her on the rocky earth by the edge of the sea. Teila had removed the old Fenda’s robes, laying them respectfully aside. Then they’d each spoken of some good memories they’d had of her. Vikus, Billis, and Stephin, too. Venga had even spoken, for though she’d never been his amira, he’d known her for a long time.
Her skin had begun to flake just as Venga finished. Moments after that, her body crumbled and became fine golden sand. The wind picked it up and blew it toward the sea. It comforted Teila do know the old Fenda had become part of the sea again, but she stood for a long time watching even after the others had gone inside. As the suns began to go down and the world became dark and chilly, she rubbed at her arms and murmured a private goodbye.
When she died, Teila thought, she would not become sand or one with the sea. Her body would be burned according to the Sheirran custom brought from her ancestor’s world. Her loved ones would commemorate her by etching her name on a rock at the lighthouse base, perhaps next to her father’s and mother’s. She’d always known that—death was a part of living, after all. She’d done it for her father as he’d done it for her mother when she was too small to remember. She’d somehow always imagined her husband’s name would go beside hers there on the rocks, but now . . . would that ever happen?
Upstairs she sat with Stephin until he went to sleep. Her boy, her sweet boy. For so long he’d been all she had, and now he was still all she had, really. She stroked the hair back from his forehead, feeling the dampness of his skin, flushed from all the crying. She pressed a kiss there too, grateful for the chance. All too soon he’d be grown up and not interested in letting his mother love him, at least not this way.
In her own room she stripped out of her robes and ran the shower as hot as it would go. When steam wreathed the room she stepped into the spray, tipping her face to it and letting her mouth open to wash away the taste of her grief. It didn’t help.
It was more than the loss of Densi, who’d been part of Teila’s life since birth, and it wasn’t just the problems with the lighthouse or the strangeness with Venga. It wasn’t even just the cold silences with Kason, the man she’d once loved so much it was like being on fire.
Suddenly, everything was too much, and sobbing, she sank to the floor and let herself go.
He’d been kind to her earlier tonight, and she hated herself for being grateful for what ought to have been simple compassion. The man she’d married could be arrogant and boastful, but he’d always been kind. The man who’d returned to her had shown glimmers of kindness, though his anger and mistrust had more often covered it up. She couldn’t blame him for it, but it hadn’t made any of this easier for her. Would any of it ever be easier?
She sobbed into the shield of her hands, wishing the world away, if only for a little while. The coolness of air moving over her lifted her head. She expected to see her son, seeking her comfort, but Kason stood outside the shower looking down at her.
She’d been naked in front of him so many times there should be no shame, and yet she curled into herself to cover herself from his gaze. When he bent to lift her, she fought him. Her skin, slick with water, slid under his grasp so that he had to grab her harder. Bruising. Her protests were futile bec
ause he pulled her out of the shower no matter how she kicked and hit at him.
He wrapped her in a thick towel and carried her into the bedroom, where he lay her on the bed and pulled the blankets up over them both. Cocooned in the towel and the sheets, Teila struggled as soon as he let her go, but she hadn’t managed to get free before he’d curled himself along her back. His strong arms pinned her until she stopped struggling.
He was naked, she realized as he entwined his legs with hers. His breath caressed the back of her neck as he held her still. Slowly, slowly she relaxed. She was exhausted, but she she couldn’t sleep.
The towel unwrapped a little when he slid a hand inside. Heat on her belly. Heat lower, between her legs, when his fingers brushed her there. She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears again. Her lips parted, but all she could manage was a sigh.
He did not touch her for a long time, but when he did, the stroke of him on her flesh was so tentative, so gentle, she thought she’d imagined it. His lips pressed the back of her neck. She felt the press of his cock against her bare ass just below the towel. She wanted to move, to get away from him, but couldn’t make herself, and not simply because she knew that it would be no use—if he wanted her where she was, he would keep her there.
There’d been a time when she hadn’t given up to him so easily, back in the earliest days when he’d believed nothing more than his charm could win her. She gave up to him now, helpless against the pull of her heart no matter how her mind protested. He was a stranger; he was her husband.
She loved him and would always love him.
With a subtle shift of their bodies, he eased inside her. His fingers circled on her clit as he filled her, and she couldn’t hold back her moan. She rocked her hips, urging him deeper. They moved together, no hesitation or fumbling.
She lost herself in the pleasure. Too late for her to hold it back or worry that it might’ve triggered him, she cried his name when it overtook her. Shuddering, she turned her face to give him her mouth. His tongue stroked hers, his fingers never ceasing their magic. His teeth snagged her lower lip as he came, and the taste of blood flooded her mouth as another rush of climax washed over her.
Relaxing against him, still connected, Teila wanted to let herself take the comfort of his bare skin on hers and couldn’t. Without moving, she whispered, “What changed?”
He didn’t reply at first, and she wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. What answer could he give that would satisfy her?
When he drew in a breath, she tensed, waiting for him break her heart anew. Before he could say a word, the door flew open. Pera shouted from the doorway, “Come quick! Stephin’s sick! He’s really sick!” And after that, all that mattered to Teila was getting to her son.
28
It should’ve been easier than this. They ought to have been able to put out a call for the closest medicus, but a fresh storm outside had cut off external communications again. They’d sent Vikus and Billis in the landcruiser to the next town, but it would be hours before they returned with any help. They needed to help the boy now.
“Input symptoms,” intoned the voice from the monitor. The medprogram was old, probably out of date, but this far out it was the only option they had.
“Vomiting. Lethargy. Thready pulse. Pallor.” Jodah looked at the boy who lay in Teila’s arms without moving. He’d been that way for the past hour.
The medprogram’s face was so neutral in its features it was impossible to tell if it were supposed to be male or female. It wasn’t three-dimensional, either. It clicked as it took in the information Jodah fed it, its face expressionless. It would’ve been better, he thought, if it had no face at all.
“Diagnosing,” it said, then fell silent.
“Mothers-forsaken thing,” Teila said. She dipped a cloth in water and tenderly wiped it over Stephin’s brow. The boy moaned a little but didn’t move. “He’s never been this sick before.”
Jodah rapped the side of the monitor, hoping to jolt the program into action, but all that happened was that the screen flickered and went black. He muttered a curse and hit the power switch again, but when the blank face swam into view, not even the monotonous voice came out of it. The lips moved in silence.
“It’s useless anyway. We need a medicus,” Teila said.
In her arms, Stephin lay limp. Jodah touched the boy’s forehead. He was glassy-eyed, cheeks flushed, but no fever. When Jodah pushed open his mouth to examine inside, a cluster of white blisters caught his attention. They meant something, though he couldn’t remember what.
He cursed again. “I’m missing something.”
Teila bathed her son’s face again. “Vikus will be back soon, won’t he? Oh, Mothers. Please let him get back soon.”
“I can help him. I know it.” Jodah reached for him, intending to put the boy on the bed, but Teila covered him protectively with her body.
“What are you doing?”
“Put him on the bed,” Jodah said gently. “I want to look him over. I feel like I can figure this out. I know I can.”
“You’re not a medicus.” Teila shook her head sharply.
The distrust on her face, so different from the way she usually looked at him, twisted Jodah’s guts but also thinned his mouth. He didn’t have the right to be angry with her, yet fury rose inside him at being balked. He fought it by backing up and turning his back on her. His fists clenched. He breathed in. Breathed out. The data stream scrolled and scrolled, spitting useless trivia at him instead of making the connections he knew were in there and would help him figure out how to help the boy.
Blisters. Pallor. Lethargy. Vomiting.
“Whale oil. Oh, Mothers,” he said. “Teila, the boy ingested whale oil.”
“What? How?”
“He must’ve gotten into it in the shed . . . I thought I put it away, but—”
“Get out!”
“I can help him,” he said in a low voice.
Teila’s hoarse shout turned him. “No, you can’t! So why don’t you just get out! Get out of here! I can’t deal with you right now! You poisoned my child!”
He opened his mouth to protest, but even an enhanced soldier, a Rav Gadol of the Sheirran Defense Force, was no match for a mother driven by terror for her child. Jodah nodded and backed away, closing the door behind him. Downstairs, he went to the kitchen, thinking to try the monitor as though the system might work better there. It didn’t, of course, since all the monitors were serviced by the same network.
Which he could probably fix.
It meant trying to access the data stream again. Pain throbbed in his skull and the base of his neck. It wasn’t a matter of simply focusing on the unending scroll, any more than he had to tell his legs “walk” before they’d move. Pulling what he needed from the constant analysis of his surroundings and putting it together into what he needed required concentration, yet couldn’t be accomplished with something as simple as a command.
Thoughts rarely come in words. They’re images, memories, sounds. He needed to think his way to the solution. Stop trying to force it. He needed to embrace the data stream as part of him, not some alien thing.
Standing in the kitchen, Jodah opened himself. His muscles went loose, fists uncurling, head drooping. He remembered the smell of the flowers in his dreams, the tickle of flowing hair on his face . . . His mind reached, reached for the memory of how to fix a viddy network . . .
So entrenched in what he was doing, Jodah at first didn’t move when the back door flung open and Billis staggered in with a bleeding Vikus in his arms. Vikus was screaming. Billis too, but Jodah couldn’t understand a word either of them were saying. Their screams brought Venga running, but the old man skidded to a stop at the sight of all the blood.
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t supposed to—”
“Get out of the way, old man.”
Rehker came from behind him, pushing him aside. “By the Three, Billis. Stop hollering and put him on the table.”
As Billis struggled to get his brother on the flat surface, all hope of accessing the data stream for any useful purpose vanished. Jodah went with Rehker to the table, both of them reaching for Vikus, who spat and struggled despite the many gashes all over his face and arms.
“Wrecked,” he cried. “Someone cut the landing wires, we only got a few cliks before we flipped into a ditch!”
Billis, pale and shaking, clutched Vikus hand. “We rolled into a ditch. We were going really fast.”
“Someone,” Vikus panted as his eyes rolled up in his head, “did it on purpose.”
Then he passed out.
“Move away.” Rehker unlaced the front of Vikus’ robes. “We need to stop the bleeding.”
Pera had appeared as well, dark circles shadowing her eyes. She hovered to one side, a hand over her mouth as she watched Rehker press a cloth to one of the worst wounds. Jodah thought she was holding back a sob but, to his disgust, the bitch was laughing.
“You’re making it worse!” Billis tried to shove Rehker away, but was no match for the soldier.
Rehker shoved back twice as hard, sending Billis to the floor. Apparently it wasn’t enough for him to toss Billis to the ground, because he then kicked him in the ribs. When the younger man howled and writhed, Rehker slammed his foot onto Billis’ chest, pinning him. “Stand down! Stand the fuck down!”
Pera laughed from the corner, both hands now covering her mouth. She sounded both desperate and pained, like every guffaw ripped something inside her. Jodah didn’t have time for her. Grabbing the back of Rehker’s robes, he tore him away from Billis, who’d gone as silent as his wounded brother.
Rehker came up swinging, one fist connecting with Jodah’s jaw hard enough to send them both sprawling apart. Pain bloomed, but Jodah shook it off. Truthfully, the pain only fueled him. Triggered him into action.
He grabbed Rehker again, holding him close enough to punch his face several times in succession. Blood spattered. Jodah’s knuckles split over the same wounds from the last time he’d hit the man. More pain. Baring his teeth, he snapped them at Rehker, who jerked out of the way at the last moment.