Mindline (The Dreamhealers 2)

by M. C. A. Hogarth

  "Or you're right," Levine said. "But if it is a disease, it's spreading and we have no idea how because it hasn't affected anyone here yet and we had the first case almost two weeks ago now." She looked up at him. "We went ahead and okayed the autopsy of the human, but we didn't find anything conclusive except that whatever it was did this made a complete wreck of his brain. Like part of it was sludge. So I want to know—" She leaned up on her toes. "How sure are you?"

  "God and Lady," he said, hushed. "I don't know."

  "Then your task for today," Levine said, "And your only task, because everyone else can do without you, is to see if you can glean anything from the bodies we've got in the beds now. Before they become corpses. I don't know how this esper thing of yours works and on a better day I might even care. But today, all that matters is your ability's given us one of the few clues we've got, and unless the police come back with something conclusive it might be the only thing we get. The uniforms are working on that apartment. You work on this."

  "As you say," Jahir answered. "I will go directly."

  "Good," she said, and left.

  Radimir added, "She was serious. We can get along without you, all right? See what you can find out."

  "Of course," he replied, but his spirit sank. The single clue he'd found had involved an accident—one that had also required him to be present in the mind of someone dying a violent death. He did not look forward to standing vigil over two more bodies, hoping to catch them in similar extremis. And yet, if there truly was nothing else....

  He looked at Jiron. "Was the autopsy truly inconclusive?"

  "Other than the damage?" Jiron shook his head. "There wasn't anything they could use. Usually you'd see something. Damage to the digestive tract, enlargement of the veins, scarring or significant damage to the nasal tissue or the skin... the ways you can take a drug are pretty limited, even these days. We should have seen something unless this stuff works so fast there's no time for that kind of wear to build up. And if that's the case...."

  "You believe me," Jahir said suddenly.

  Jiron nodded. "I do. Levine and I are both from Earth, but I come from a less fancy part of town. I've seen more drug cases than she has, and the pattern has me on edge. All young adults, all in similar types of clothing, suggesting a similar socioeconomic status... I can see this as some new drug being passed around at a party. But it could be a disease they're sharing instead. So..." He shrugged. "We need more evidence. You're a long shot, but sometimes it's the long ones that pay off."

  "I shall do my best."

  And if there was nothing? He went to the first room and found a comatose young woman: another of the Asanii, calico-patched like the woman who'd served him gelato on Seersana week after week. A little more orange than black on her, but the resemblance disturbed him. He stretched his senses out and found her aura close and hard, like armor against his invasion, and wondered what he could hope to learn. They had sentenced him to a death vigil on these hapless innocents, and for what? For the slimmest hope that he might hear something from them in their minds' last frenzied exhalations?

  His eyes strayed to her brow. Levine's description of the deceased's brain clung to him. Had it really been so gruesome? He had to imagine so; she didn't seem the sort to resort to hyperbole in a situation this grave.

  Jahir sighed and folded his hands on his lap, closing his eyes and forcing himself to concentrate; to extend himself, even knowing what awaited him if he succeeded.

  It was, however, a very disappointing shift. He gathered nothing from the patients, and when at last he dragged himself from the stool and made his way carefully to the break room, he found Levine having an agitated discussion with Jiron while Radimir looked on. His entrance caused them all to fall silent, and then Levine said, "Well?"

  "Nothing," he said. "I feel nothing when they are quiescent, so. It is only..." He drew in a breath and finished, "It is only as they are dying that I have an opportunity."

  "Radclifte Clinic by the port has two other cases, and they're both more advanced," Levine said. "Maybe—"

  "Doctor," Jiron growled, but she talked over him.

  "—go see if they have anything for you—"

  "You are not sending him across the city to play vulture there when he's just spent eight hours doing it here," Jiron exclaimed. "For God's sake, he's got Mediger Syndrome!"

  "It's not like he'd have to walk there," Levine said, caustic.

  Jiron looked at Radimir, who flattened his ears and said, "I can't support anything that would constitute a physical danger to someone I'm responsible for. He might be a student resident, Doctor, but the operative word there is 'student.'"

  Levine met Jahir's eyes across the room and the force of her regard pinned him by the door. "Well? Ignore your nursemaids and make your own decision."

  "I was not aware there was one to be made," Jahir said. "You have asked me to attempt to learn what there is to learn from our patients—"

  "I asked you to help us get to the bottom of this," she said. "And you have a better chance of it if you keep trying."

  "I fear I do no one any good if I collapse," he said, voice growing rough. He cleared his throat and said, "Doctor Levine. I will do everything in my power."

  "See that you do," she said. She drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, composing herself. Then said, "I apologize, alet. This is just... a very serious situation. Normally our department wouldn't be involved in anything like this, in fact. Except that..."

  "...I brought you information you might not have otherwise had," he finished.

  "Yes," Levine said. "And there's some pressure from above for us to keep giving them something they can use. If you're tired, of course, go get some rest. Just... keep the gravity of the situation in mind."

  "I assure you, Doctor, the gravity of the situation is the first thing on it."

  She nodded and smiled at him, a look more frazzled than reassuring; he valued it for the genuine vulnerability in it anyway. "All right. I'll be by to talk to you tomorrow."

  He watched her leave and was still staring after her when Jiron said behind him, "Don't worry. We'll run interference for you."

  Jahir turned from the door to find the human watching him, arms folded and one hand clasping his elbow. "I beg your pardon?"

  "I don't think even I got that one," Radimir said to Jiron. "And I know what you meant."

  "She's right when she says we don't normally get dragged into things like this, at least, not this early in the process. They usually call us in to help manage the psychological aspects once they know what's going on and have a plan for dealing with it," Jiron said. "Having people beating down her door asking her to magic up more clues has made her nervy. But Radimir and I are here to oversee your education, and we're not going to forget our responsibility to your health and wellbeing. All right?"

  "All right," Jahir said, subdued.

  "Just remember the first duty of a healer," Radimir said.

  "Do no harm?" Jahir asked.

  "Don't become one of the casualties."

  Chapter 12

  Vasiht'h checked his saddlebags one more time, then looked up at the narrow house facing one of the greenspaces. Heliocentrus was riddled with stair-step communities, houses that were built on terraces lining the edges of small parks. The topmost terraces usually bled onto concourses leading into marketplaces, businesses and high rises, sculpted around more of the greenspaces, so it was not unusual to be walking down a street and find oneself on a bridge overlooking a stadium-like arrangement of small houses. He had an invitation to this particular one, though, and rolled his shoulders once before jogging with determination to the front door and pressing the chime. A few moments later, a Tam-illee in an apron opened it, then called over her shoulder, "Girls! It's your friend from Seersana!"

  Kayla and Meekie dashed through the door and into his arms before he could open his mouth to greet them. Grinning, he rested his head between theirs and gave them as big a squeeze as they
could handle, which set them both to giggling wildly.

  "If you'll give me a moment, alet," Meekie's mother said with a bright smile. "I'll go get the picnic basket."

  "Of course," he said, and sat in front of the girls. They looked better... much better. "Look at you both. You're practically glowing!"

  "We feel better too," Meekie said, serious. "Whatever the doctor's doing, it's helping a lot. He says we might be in remission within the year!"

  "And then maybe we can go back home," Kayla added. "I miss everyone on Seersana."

  "I have letters," Vasiht'h said. "They're in my bag. Maybe over lunch you can read them."

  "Ooh, letters!" Meekie clapped her hands. "Yay!"

  From in the house came a call: "Shoes, girls."

  "Shoes!" Kayla said. "I always forget. I'll get yours, Meekie." She scampered back inside.

  Meekie leaned into Vasiht'h's arm with a sound very like a purr. "It is nice to see you again, Manylegs. Except—" She pulled away to look at him. "I thought it was Prince Jahir who was coming to Selnor?"

  "It was, and he did," Vasiht'h said as Kayla returned. "And it's a long story."

  "I like long stories," Meekie said. "Especially about people I know."

  "What's this?" Kayla asked.

  "It's Prince Jahir. Vasiht'h-alet says he's here and it's a long story."

  "Ooh, long stories! I love long stories!" Kayla exclaimed.

  Vasiht'h started laughing. "I've missed you girls."

  "We missed you too," Kayla said with a grin.

  "All right," Meekie's mother said, reappearing without her apron and with a basket. "Lead the way, girls."

  "Come on, Manylegs," Kayla said, grabbing his arm. "Just wait until you see the duck pond!"

  They walked together down the grassy paths leading toward the park, the two girls on either side of Vasiht'h and Meekie's mother trailing. On the way, Vasiht'h explained how he'd decided to follow Jahir off-world after all, and the straits he'd found his friend in once he'd arrived.

  "So he's sick," Meekie said, ears flat. "Like us."

  "A little," Vasiht'h allowed. "If he leaves Selnor and goes somewhere easier on his body, he'll be back to normal, though."

  "But he won't go because he promised to stay, and princes always keep their promises," Kayla said. "That's what Persy would have said, anyway. In the stories, princes have duties, and they have to do their duty or what's a prince for?"

  Meekie nodded agreement. "It's about honor."

  Vasiht'h looked from one to the other, brows lifted. "You think that's what it is, do you."

  "Of course!" Meekie said. "But you should get him to come see us, and maybe rest a little."

  "I want to try."

  "Good," Meekie said. "Here, this is a nice place to eat."

  Vasiht'h passed out the letters while Meekie's mother set out the food, and they shared sandwiches and news while the girls read bits of the letters out loud. Electronic correspondence was more typical than physical mail, which made such things a special treat. Afterwards, the elder Tam-illee went for a walk, leaving him with the two of them, and Kayla's frown. "So," he said while dipping an apple slice in some of the spiced honey. "What was in the letter that's made you make faces, arii?"

  Kayla said, "Well... some of it is just... girl to girl stuff. You know."

  He didn't, but he didn't want to point that out.

  "But she also says that Kuriel's gotten a little weird since we've gone."

  "She was afraid of being left behind," Meekie said. "But Persy and Amaranth stayed! Didn't they? They were still there when you left?"

  "They were," Vasiht'h confirmed.

  "I don't understand, then," Meekie said. "More people stayed than left. So she's not really alone. I mean, we miss her, but we're not lonely...."

  "We also get to play outside now," Kayla said. "We're not stuck in a hospital all the time. We can make new friends. They have to stay in the ward. And there were never any volunteers as much fun as Vasiht'h-alet and Prince Jahir."

  "What can we do to help her?" Meekie murmured, frowning. She took the paper and smoothed it. "Other than call more often. That's what we can do, right, Vasiht'h-alet?"

  "It is, yes," Vasiht'h said. "Just remember, ariisen. Sometimes when you're scared, bad things can seem more important, more immediate, than they really have to be."

  "You mean you make them seem worse than they are because you're already upset," Meekie said, and nodded. "Dami tells me the same thing."

  "We will write her, then," Kayla said. "Today. We can tell her that our parents hope to move back to Seersana once our treatment's done, and then maybe she will have something to look forward to." She glanced up at Vasiht'h. "What about you, Manylegs?"

  "What about me?" Vasiht'h smiled at them both.

  "Is Prince Jahir making things bigger than they really are because he's tired all the time?"

  Thinking of the comatose patients, Vasiht'h said, "What I'm actually afraid of is that they're bigger than he thinks they might be."

  A long pause. The two girls looked at one another, then Meekie said, "I hope not."

  "Me too," Vasiht'h said.

  "Enough sad things," Kayla declared. "Maybe you can play flying saucer, Manylegs?"

  Surprised, he said, "Can the two of you?"

  "Oh yes!" Kayla grinned and went through the picnic basket until she came up with a plastic disc. "We can run now. See? Meekie, fetch!" She threw the disc and Meekie sprang to her feet, laughing.

  "I am not a pet dog!" she called as she ran after it. Leaping, she caught it and called, "Flying saucer!" And sent it back over the field. Kayla squealed and sprang after it.

  For a pleasing half an hour, Vasiht'h played flying saucer with two very much healthier girls. After that, Meekie's mother rejoined them for a ramble through the park, culminating at the duck pond, which had a bridge over it so people could stand over the water and watch the fish darting beneath the clear surface of the water. The ducks in question were far more exotic than anything Vasiht'h was accustomed to seeing on Seersana; more like Anseahla's avians, with plumage in startling rose pinks or bright oranges edged in black. He left when the afternoon started to wane with promises to return again soon and breathed out, feeling something settle in him. He hadn't really held any hope that their doctor's new treatment for their particularly virulent strain of Auregh-Rosen would be able to help. That it had, and so much!

  On the way home, Vasiht'h detoured to investigate one of the siv'ts listed in the city directory. It was tucked into the corner of one of the high rises on the bottom floor, facing one of the grassy fields that extended into a courtyard between two other skyscrapers. Vasiht'h ducked into it and found himself in a low, small room, paneled in dark wood carved in arabesques to evoke the sacred exsufflation of the Goddess. There was a single altar in the front of the room, beneath a wooden relief of Aksivaht'h: full frontal, rather than in profile, which made this a shrine used by a priest or priestess. He hunted near the door and found their hours listed; he was between consultations, which suited him. He wasn't here for the services Glaseahn priests provided, anyway. Instead he went to the altar and took one of the sticks of incense from the box on the altar. Using the brush and cloth stored in the drawer at the foot of the altar, he cleaned the surface of waste ash and discarded the burnt down incense left by the last postulant. After tidying, he lit the fresh stick and wedged it into the slot, then sat in front of it and clasped his hands.

  And didn't know what to say.

  Thank you, for Jahir, of course. He'd said it to Her effigy in the apartment and had the feeling he would never be done with saying that. Thank you for Meekie and Kayla, for their health, and for how they'd grounded him in what had come before. A fervent prayer for whatever crisis was brewing in Mercy's crisis care beds to be resolved as quickly as possible. An even more fervent one that he might be up to the challenges that he was facing. In the end, he closed his eyes and let the peace of Her presence seep into him, and took stren
gth from that. Then he stood, dropped a fin coin into the box by the door to help pay for the upkeep of the shrine, and went home.

  He had enough time to start dinner and listen to another lecture, and was in the middle of making notes for his business practice course when Jahir let himself into the apartment, looking if possible even more haggard than he had when Vasiht'h had first arrived. The dread that flooded the mindline was enough to turn his stomach. He half-stood, wings spreading. "Arii?"

  "I appear to have become a person of interest," Jahir said, tired.

  Vasiht'h didn't like the sound of that, and knew Jahir could feel his wariness. He said instead, "Sit, all right? It can wait while I get you a cup of something warm. Tea, coffee?"

  "No more coffee," Jahir said as he seated himself, then leaned on the arm of the sofa with his feet curled close. Without even stopping to shed his shoes. The sense of cold through the mindline was so distinct Vasiht'h smoothed down his fur. "Paige-alet brings coffee from someplace nearby? It's very good, but very heavy."

  "What do they put in it?" Vasiht'h asked, going through the cupboard for the teapot.

  "A stick of butter."

  Vasiht'h looked up.

  "Not a joke," Jahir said, wry. "And it's very good, but I am so tired of drinking calories. Something clear, I beg of you, arii."

  As Vasiht'h made the tea, the oppression in the mindline only strengthened, until it felt so thick he was having a hard time breathing. "So, tell me what happened, before it chokes you."

  "I'm—"

  "Don't apologize!" Vasiht'h exclaimed, sensing the words before his roommate could articulate them, even in his own mind. "Don't. It's all right, really." He brought the teapot over, using the trip to sort through his own feelings and separate them from Jahir's. "It's guilt, isn't it? You feel guilt for making me feel your negative feelings."

  "I..." Jahir trailed off, his gaze losing focus. Then he looked up sharply at Vasiht'h, eyes wide.

  Vasiht'h nodded. "That's what I thought." He put the pot down. "Look, the bad comes with the good. It's like that in everything, right?"