Eyes Love & Water

by Pamela Foland

  Miranda held on to consciousness, uneasily. This time it didn't appear that her consciousness was being threatened, but then that could change with the intensity of the throbbing pain. Fragmentary images played against one another in the back of her mind. They floated around her mind bumping off one another and uniting in order. She slowly remembered the blow to the head that had necessitated the quick escape that brought her here.

  There had been a crooked sheriff that had been more than willing to turn her over to the dark for the sizable bounty that had been offered for her capture on that world. He had taken after her with a chunk of fence post. His decision towards betrayal had been so sudden she didn't even sense it coming. Vaguely Miranda recalled that someone had warned her not to trust anyone. Lifting her hand to her head she regretted not having remembered that advice a little sooner.

  She felt the back of her head again. It felt a little less tender, and didn't seem as moist. When her hand returned to her frame of vision, it confirmed that there was much less blood this time. Good, that meant it had begun to heal. She rolled over and propped herself in a seated position. The movement jarred her head, causing her vision to swim momentarily. The effort also left her winded.

  Panting heavily, Miranda found an image of the sheriff flitting into her mind. With it came the understanding of why she had trusted him enough to let him get behind her. He was yet another of her Ben's un-Ben alternates. The filthy snake was even less like her Ben than most. She wondered if she could blame the difference on the harshness of that last world. She preferred to blame it on that rather than on some hidden flaw her Ben might also possess. She shook her head, denying that possibility. Her stomach threatened to vomit in response to the unwise motion. The threat never materialized and the associated spinning in her brain slowly subsided.

  After a long time Miranda touched her head again. Her hand felt dried and crusted blood, and it came back dry. She decided to try standing again. Her head spun a little but she did manage to find her way to her feet. Slowly, while clinging to one wall of the cave for support, Miranda made her way towards the light.

  After a couple hundred slow shuffling steps Miranda came to the mouth of the cave. Miranda couldn't tell whether it was because of her poor concussed brain or whether the plants she saw outside actually were as alien as they seemed. A flicker of insect motion drew her attention to a purplish flower. It looked vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't place from where. With a hand on the cave wall for support, Miranda dug around in her dusty memory banks for the answer. It came back fragmentary and disjointed, something about rain and flight and heat. She squinted at the remembered images and finally the memory came into resolution. It was the same flower as had grown in the desert on the first world she fled to.

  Miranda probed the back of her head with a grubby finger and hoped that she finished healing soon. She could not afford to come to important memories so sluggishly. Memories were not the only things sluggish. Every one of her thought processes seemed stuck in neutral. Miranda wondered for a long time what that flower was doing on this strange world, before she even had a flickering sense that this world might just be the same one. She did not remember setting that world as a destination, but at the time she had not really focused on where she would end up as much as she had focused on being somewhere else.

  In Miranda's memories, she identified that world with help, safety and severe head trauma. That was probably how she ended up there in her condition. She shrugged at the idea and happily noticed no ill effects from the gesture. Experimentally she let her hand fall from the wall, and attempted the last few steps from the cave unsupported. Her legs felt unsteady and her brain wobbled a bit, but it was a noticeable improvement.

  Once outside the cave Miranda surveyed her immediate surroundings, with a slow, careful turn of her head. To her right the untamed native growth claimed dominion. To her left the plants stood obediently in the defined rows of cultivation. There were plants among the cultivars which resembled ones outside of the garden, but their flowers were carefully covered in finely woven mesh nets, preventing cross pollination with the wild strains.

  Miranda stared at the garden esthetically. Then as if a switch were turned on in her brain, she made the intuitive leap, gardens possessed gardeners, and the gardeners could help her. Miranda plodded to and through the garden to a small path on the other side. Following it led her around the rock outcropping, which held the cave. The path ended in a clearing full of gray robed people.

  One of the gray robed figures saw Miranda quickly, and flipped back the hood of her robe. Miranda saw surprise and worry in the woman's eyes. The woman dropped the basket she had been working on and rushed to Miranda. When she reached Miranda the woman wrapped a supportive arm around her. Miranda was grateful for the support and leaned into the woman. Miranda's gratitude for the support was followed by a wave of weakness as her relief began to cancel out the adrenaline which had gotten her that far.

  “Get the Healer! This woman is badly hurt!” Several of the other robed figures tossed back their hoods and raced inside.

  Miranda wanted to protest to these new strangers that she was going to be fine and didn't need rescue. Reluctantly she realized that the complexities of getting her mouth to produce those objections was beyond her capabilities. Miranda raised her hand to the back of her head, it wasn't bleeding any longer and was much less tender. It seemed unfathomable that she would still be impaired.

  The runners returned, encircling a woman who was wearing a simple gray dress and smock. She was middle aged with red hair, that had just barely begun to dull towards gray. The woman spotted Miranda and shoved her way through the robed individuals.

  “I can help her much better if you all would make room and let me get to her.” The woman took up support of Miranda's other side.

  “Healer, should we move her inside?” The robed woman helping to support Miranda asked.

  “First let’s get her over to the sun shelter, I need to examine her.” The woman mumbled lifting one of Miranda's hands to sniff her bloody palm.

  With as much cooperation and assistance as Miranda could provide, the two women moved her to a small patio sheltered from the sun by a metal roof and light gauzy fabric tenting. An herb stuffed mattress was scooted to the middle of the shelter, and pillows were piled to support Miranda in a sitting position.

  The two women gently positioned Miranda on the bed and the healer began probing the head wound. The healer let out a startled grunt and lifted Miranda's hand to her nose again. She sniffed the palm deeply then she made an exaggerated examination of Miranda's eyes.

  “No, she will not be going inside. The spores are too potent right now, it wouldn't be safe for her in there. I need some water for washing the wound, some bandages, a bloodswort compress, some scaldingly hot purple root and bonebinder tea, and my jar of mindsbane.” The healer listed. The gathered people nodded and broke off, in groups sized as was necessary to each task as it was listed, all except for the woman who had first leapt to Miranda's aid.

  “Mindsbane? Healer is that a good idea? It is awfully strong for a healthy person, and you yourself have warned me never to use it on a person with a head injury!”

  “Leneifa, go and get it. I know what I am doing, though you should never try it,” The healer shooed the other woman off. The woman hesitated a moment longer then left Miranda and the healer alone. “So, how did you come to have your skull half caved in?”

  Miranda wanted to answer the woman. She even tried to, but all that came out was a mangled guttural growl of gibberish. Frustratedly Miranda pictured the scene in her mind and tried to think of gestures which would get the message across. She had almost figured out a sign for, 'two by four to the back of her skull,' when the woman cleared her throat.

  “The bastard, you didn't even see it coming did you. That's all right it will be healed up within another day or so. Don't worry your power of speech will return. It was secondary to your ability to get to help.�
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  Electricity shot through Miranda when she realized that the healer woman was telepathic and had heard Miranda's thoughts. Miranda was torn between fear that the woman could be from the dark and curiosity at having met her second free telepath after so long.

  “No, I'm not with Them. I suppose I'm the first Briaunti you've met other than yourself.” Miranda responded with a silent query as to what a Briaunti was. “You are, a Briaunti dear. Surely you should have suspected when you had your metamorphosis. Most people accept shooting up a foot and a half as a definite sign that something is going on. Even if you were lucky enough to have been unconscious for most of it, you should have suspected when you woke up, or when your memories snuck up and bit you in the occipital lobe.”

  Miranda searched her brain, checking to see if she remembered anything of that sort. Her brain was still half fogged over, but she couldn't recall anything resembling that. There was a faint memory of going into a room as a child, and waking as a woman but it didn't seem to fit the healer's description.

  “That was probably it. Lucky you, I wish I didn't remember mine, and I know a sparse handful of others who would be a lot better off if they didn't remember theirs. Not true, most of them are dead now, but their grandchildren's great-grandchildren would be better off.” The healer assured Miranda. Miranda found she didn't like the idea of somebody else poking around in her mind. “Sorry dear, but right now it is necessary.”

  Miranda growled her frustration loudly, though briefly as the act set her head throbbing again. She started to reach her hand back, but the healer slapped her hand away. Miranda's wide eyes fixed on the woman defying her to do that again. Miranda lifted her hand again and started to snake it around. The woman's hand rapidly snapped out and grabbed Miranda's.

  The healer pointed out Miranda's condition with a firm yet annoying sort of accuracy. “No, your hands are filthy. Leave me to checking on the gaping hole in your head. You just sit still and try not to aggravate it any more than you already have. Okay?” Miranda subsided, with a low rumbling grunt.

  “Mistress, I heard you had called for mindsbane, does that mean what I think?” A woman in a long purple dress asked.

  “Only partially Tetra, she is one of us, but she's well past her time. She's been wounded, badly.” The healer answered.

  “Welcome friend, my name is Tetra D'llen.”

  Miranda made a frustrated snorting sound through her nose. Then focused her mind on her name, hoping that the newcomer was either telepathic or that The healer would pass it on.

  “Miranda what? What's your family?” Tetra asked.

  Miranda shrugged internally and externally. Until that moment Miranda had barely even considered that somewhere she had a family. She tried to remember a time before the dark, and failed. Her memories of the dark were dim, prior to them was less than the mists of myth.

  “Don't fret, it'll come back to you. With a skull someone obviously tried to crack like an egg, you shouldn't blame yourself for memories that are less than intact. Tetra said with a smile.

  Three people bearing a wash basin and cloths between them sloshed into the sun shelter. They set the basin and pile of cloths within the healer's reach and retreated. Silently the healer began by washing Miranda's blood and mud encrusted hands. Then she moved around behind Miranda and began cleaning the back of her head. Tetra knelt down and took Miranda's hands when it became obvious that the pain from cleaning the wound was severe enough that Miranda couldn't keep her hands out of the way on her own.

  By the time the wound was cleaned more helpers had arrived with the poultice. Tetra kept Miranda's hands, and cooed soothingly while the healer applied the poultice and the bandages which arrived next. The wound was nicely dressed when a small girl arrived with the tea, and Leneifa arrived with a small clay jar.

  “Are you certain about this?” Leneifa asked before handing the jar to the healer.

  “She knows what she's doing Lennie.” Tetra answered and then rose to herd the sour faced woman away from the shelter. Leneifa glared at Tetra in disgust and tried to resist the active expulsion, but failed and was driven back to her basket weaving.

  The healer dropped several palmfuls of powder from the jar into the tea. Tetra returned and knelt to help support Miranda long enough to sip the tea. The healer held the cup to Miranda's mouth. Miranda tried to taste it before consuming it, but when Miranda's mouth opened the healer poured the tea rapidly into her mouth. She sputtered against the tea but it still kept coming until the cup was empty. To Miranda it tasted nearly as foul as, something which she couldn't quite remember.

  Silently Miranda sighed and cried and wished that there was some place that would be safe that could be safe for just long enough to rest. She so needed to rest, a real restful rest She was so tired too tired to go on. She wished she could trust them and let herself stop and take a rest here, but she couldn't. Miranda really should have left this world when she awoke. Miranda began to fade into unconsciousness.

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  Ben stared over the head of one of Niri's male students at the blank upper portion of a wall. His hand was hovering on auto pilot over his slice of pizza. He wasn't listening to the animated conversations going on around him, not even the one he was theoretically a part of. He was caught somewhere in his brain just short of comprehending he had been away from home for five of their years even though he'd really only been gone a day.

  But what a day it had been. It may as well have been an entire lifetime since he was home. Yesterday he had struggled with accepting the horror of a mass murder today he struggled with accepting suddenly being thrust into a work of fiction. How else could he think of people without telepathy being handicapped, or pots that moved themselves.

  “Hey, Mr. Kindel, aren't you listening?” The boy across from Ben asked after stabbing his arms up into Ben's view.

  Ben shook himself back to reality and slowly focused his eyes on the boy, “No, I'm sorry. I got a little distracted. What were you saying.”

  “He wasn't saying. I was,” Niri elbowed Ben in the gut. He turned to look her in the eyes.

  “I'm really sorry.”

  “So, what planet were you on?” Niri asked shrugging off Ben's apology as though she hadn't needed one.

  Ben's face jerked into a reflexive grin, ”Earth, I guess. It's a lot further away than I had thought.”

  “It's only a couple of seconds,” The boy across the way mumbled. Niri sent the boy a soft glare.

  Ben shook himself, “That's what I mean. Around here everything is just a few seconds away, or can be moved from across the room, or can be said without opening your mouth. Back home, work is only a few miles but more than twenty minutes away in traffic, and if you see things moving on their own you know it's time to lay off the drink. Back home people pride themselves on having made careers of spending all their time talking but never having said anything.”

  “Yes, and 'back home' is so deeply embroiled in a war that they don't even know it. People kill each other over parking places, or property, while people like you spend all your time trying to preserve normalcy.” Niri said firmly slapping her palms to the table. “Don't let yourself get so homesick that you forget the good you can do from here.”

  “Forget? How can I forget something when nobody has bothered to take the time to explain it to me? Why am I learning to throw crockery at the wall? Why have you doubled my morning run? Why is it that half this place is deathly silent and the other half runs off at the mouth about stuff that has little or no bearing, on anything?” The casual chatter that had filled the cafeteria fell silent. Ben could feel listening inner ears turn in his direction. He could hear faintly pitying thoughts aimed at him. Suddenly, it was all he could do to keep himself from screaming at them all to go away and shut up.

  Instantly the room cleared itself. Empty chairs remained pushed back from tables with half empty plates in front of them. Ben was alone, or almost. One small figure sat hun
ched alone in the corner chewing loudly on her salad. Shortly she squeaked her chair out from her table and turned to see what had happened.

  Ben recognized Tina, and realized why she had been the only one unaffected by his explosion. She turned back and picked up her plate. Then carefully made her way to Ben around the disarray of chairs. She shoved Niri's plate forward and set hers down with the tinkle of silverware.

  “Pass the salt please.” She said taking Niri's seat.

  Ben felt his inner scream fade to an inner chuckle. He handed her the salt and watched her delicately sprinkle it over her salad. She sat it in front of her and Ben handed her the pepper. She turned a smile towards him as she sprinkled the pepper.

  “So, you got a little upset.” She said before stuffing a forkful of salad in her mouth.

  “Yeah, I guess I was kind of ready to scream.”

  “I get that way sometimes, but nobody ever hears me. They can't. That's usually why I'm ready to scream. They put on a big attitude when I ask them to talk out loud, then half way through a conversation they 'forget' and lapse back. It's not so bad here. They're all supposed to talk, to get used to it for the field. When they don't, the teachers do something about it. That's why I go to school here; I don't really want to be a factor. I can't even get the amplifiers to work. I have to use special key pad operated equipment.”

  “You have no idea how much it helps to hear you say that,” Ben remembered his nearly wasted morning.

  Tina huffed out a giggle around another mouthful of salad. After a quick chug of water from Ben's glass Tina swallowed. “You should eat your lunch. It's a long time 'til dinner, and today is swimming.” Tina shoveled in some more of her salad.

  Ben took her word for it and began eating his pizza. They sat in companionable silence, save for the sounds of Tina munching on salad. Ben cooled down and focused on his lunch. He was so focused on it and Tina that he missed the slow reappearance of the diners at the other tables, and the disappearance of plates from the one he shared with Tina.