by F J Blair
Temperance lay there, considering what she had just seen, and tried to make sense of everything. Her thoughts remained jumbled together, a mess of knots at which she could pick but had little success in disentangling.
A knock came at the door. “Come in,” she said without bothering to look. She knew who it would be.
“Temperance? Can we talk?” The voice was hesitant and, now that Temperance was paying attention, touched with a slight inflection she hadn’t noticed before. She sat up.
William stood in the doorway, dressed in new clothes, nervously picking at one sleeve. Eyes cast about the room, as if looking for a way to start the conversation. Temperance motioned to the chair.
“So,” she said as William pulled the chair around to face her and dropped into it. “You’re a girl? Why didn’t you say something before? I’m feeling a damn fool here for assuming otherwise all this time.”
William frowned. “I am not a girl.”
“Really? You could have fooled me there in your room a minute ago.” Temperance felt anger fanning to life inside her and quickly stamped it out. She took a breath and tried again. “Listen, it’s alright. I understand why you might want to disguise yourself. Plenty of girls in Korvana travel in disguise to keep themselves safe. Hell, after we got taken by Whittaker I was wishing for much the same thing myself. Fortunately nothing came of that, but it’s never far from my mind when I’m alone on the road. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me before now.”
“I did not tell you because there is nothing to tell!” The anger in William’s voice caught Temperance off-guard. It reignited her own flames. She managed to bring them back under control, but it was like wrestling a wikilou, claws and all.
“Is this some sort of Isterial thing? Maybe you aren’t understanding the language—”
“I understand just fine.” William gave a sigh and leaned forward in the chair. “Yes, I have the body of a girl, but I do not consider myself to be one. I have not for as long as I can remember, although it took me years to understand why everything felt so . . . wrong. Even to myself, it was hard to admit the truth.”
“So is this the real reason you fled, then? To start a new life here where nobody knew you?”
William’s face darkened. “No. I would have stayed in Isterial if not for Lucius. My family was not happy about my decision, but they accepted me for who I am. Who I truly was. Others were not as understanding.”
Those words rattled a memory loose in Temperance’s skull. “Lucius called you by a different name, didn’t he?”
“Willabeatha. It was the name I bore as a child, but it is not my real name. I am William now, both here and in Isterial. Lucius never understood that. He wanted me for how he saw me, how he thought I was meant to be. He . . . wanted me to be his bride, as well as an upyr.”
“So why didn’t you just tell me? You promised me there would be no more secrets, yet hardly a day has gone by since the last surprise, and now this comes to light. What will it be tomorrow? That you’ve got horns and a tail? What else are you still hiding?”
Temperance found herself standing, her blood reaching a boil. William leapt up as well. “I did not tell you because it was not any of your business! This is who I am. It has nothing to do with Lucius or our other troubles.”
“Oh really? You just finished telling me that you’re here because some blood-sucking fiend wants to make you his wife. And what do you mean, it’s none of my business? Pretty sure it would have become my business after you tried courting me, back before we entered the marshes. You didn’t think the fact you’re a girl might affect my decision?”
“Are you not listening? I am not a girl!” William’s voice thundered in the tiny room. “Schampe dun! After everything that has happened, I thought you would be different. That you of all people might understand.”
“What I understand is that you broke your promise to me. How am I supposed to trust you when you can’t even tell me what you truly are?”
William froze, face contorted with anger. “Are you really that cruel, Temperance? So selfish that you cannot look past your own ideas? I may not have been born with the body that I wanted, but at least I know who and what I am. All you want to see is what is on the outside. You are no better than Lucius!”
“You dare compare me to that monster?” A red haze descended over Temperance’s vision. She took a step forward, hands clenching into fists. “I was the one who rescued you from him, remember? The one who came after you, risked the skin on my nose for no other reason than you were a person who needed saving. Which you have repaid by keeping information from me! This isn’t about how you want to see yourself, or how I see you, it’s about trust. And at this moment, I’m not sure I can trust you again.”
Their noses were almost touching. The anger was gone from William’s face now, replaced with a sudden look of fear. Temperance realized how she must look: muscles tensed, fists ready to strike, murder in her eyes. For a moment she saw her grandfather’s face. It wore a frown of disappointment.
She took a deep breath, scooped her saddlebags from the back of the chair, and stepped past William to the door. Placing her hands on the knob, she glanced back over her shoulder. “The sheriff of Sweetwater offered me a job hunting down Whittaker’s men. I was coming back to discuss it with you, but I think this conversation helped make up my mind. Why don’t you catch the train to Messanai by yourself. We’re done here.”
“Temperance, I—” Whatever William had been about to say cut off as the door slammed behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Five Years Earlier
Temperance quickly discovered that making a rope was a far more time-consuming task than she remembered. Between harvesting the tree fibers, soaking them, drying them, buffing them, soaking them again because they were still too tough, drying and buffing them again, and finally twining them together into a rope, it was a wonder that the task got done at all. The rope that she ended up with wasn’t exactly pretty, but Temperance was too tired and sick of this cursed valley by that point to care.
This was only partially the rope’s fault. The other reason for the delay was Temperance herself, or, more specifically, her traitorous body.
For the first two days she felt perfectly fine. The harvesting was slow but steady work, and soon she had several piles of tree fibers waiting to be hauled down to the stream. She went to bed that night with a smug grin, fully expecting to be shouting Martin down before the next Sabbath.
She awoke in the middle of the night, her guts working to pitch a riot before she even managed to entangle from her dreams. She made it just outside the cabin door before the remnants of her supper worked their way up her throat to disembark on a journey for which she would have preferred they just stay home.
I never did trust canned food. Figures this was gonna happen sooner or later. Her guts heaved again, and for a time Temperance was too occupied to dwell on the subject further. When everything felt emptied at last, she crawled her way back to the bed and passed out.
In the morning her insides remained riotous, turning downright violent if she even so much as looked at anything resembling food. At noon she managed to make it to the stream and fill the pot with water, but getting it back to the cabin nearly undid her, limbs shaking near to pieces with every step.
Is it food poisoning, or did I somehow manage to go and catch myself a fever? Her head did feel hot, but that might have just been from the effort. Pity Martin didn’t have the decency to leave me just a little alcohol for emergencies, might be just the thing to settle my stomach right now.
Days passed, and her suffering only grew. Temperance managed to hobble about, slowly moving piles of fiber to the stream and back again, hanging them to dry next to the cabin, but the work never seemed to end. She started to despair of ever finishing.
Soon even leaving the cabin just to drink or pass water became an ordeal. Temperance used a tree branch like a walking stick, heaving herself along wit
h all her might, a sheen of sweat working its way along her forehead. The shaking in her limbs had only grown worse.
In contrast to the weak state gripping her, Temperance also found her legs bouncing with barely contained energy every time she tried to lay down. Despite how it left her short of breath, she took to hobbling back and forth across the small cabin just to settle them enough to sleep. Five strides took her from bed to door, and five more strides took her back. That was the prison that held her now, five strides in any direction the limits of her cell. Her body shivered and shook the entire time.
Definitely a fever. Figures Martin would leave me here just as I was coming down with something. Oh Hell, what I wouldn’t give for a drink that isn’t water right now!
Five strides to the door. Five strides to the bed. Inwardly, Temperance screamed.
* * *
The next day Temperance awoke to discover her pot had gone dry. That meant another walk down to the spring, and another arduous journey back carrying it. There was no way she could make the trip without her branch, but carrying the pot one-handed seemed an impossible task as well.
After a few failed ideas, she settled on dragging a leafy branch behind her as a makeshift sled. The ground wasn’t particularly smooth and undoubtedly some of the water would bounce its way out, but it was better than nothing. One slow, aching step at a time, she made her way to where the stream bubbled out of the ground, nearly pitching in as she tried to fill the pot.
The trip back took almost three times as long, and Temperance swore the pot got heavier with each step. Once she tripped over a rock and the pot tilted over, losing almost half of what was left inside. Temperance climbed to her feet, resettled it, and set off again.
When the cabin appeared among the trees she almost wept for joy. Only the thought of waking in the night and not having anything to slake her throat had kept her moving forward.
She set the branch against the wall by the door and hung her grandfather’s coat on the peg. The pot of water went on the center of the table, in easy reach should she need a drink. That task completed, Temperance hobbled towards the bed. If she didn’t have whisky, then a couple more hours of sleep were the next best thing.
When I wake up, maybe I’ll try some food again. No point surviving this fever only to die of starvation. She thought of Martin, returning to find her nothing more than a shriveled corpse. The idea wasn’t a particularly pleasant one. Martin deserved a big helping of guilt for abandoning her, but she would prefer to be alive to enjoy it.
Temperance only made it two steps across the cabin when her legs decided they had enough for the day. There was a slight quiver, and then the floorboards flew up to greet her. She slammed into them with her full weight, the air gusting from her lungs and leaving her gasping for breath.
The boards were smooth beneath her fingers, their wood worn down by countless footsteps over the years. As she lay staring at them, Temperance wondered how many of those steps had been her own in recent days, pacing back and forth across the cabin. Too many of them, that was for true.
She tried pushing herself up, but her arms weren’t as committed to the idea as the rest of her, sending her crashing down to the floorboards once more. Cheek pressed against them, she stared at nothing in particular and cursed with the most colorful expressions she knew.
Before she could start into a second round, Temperance noticed something she hadn’t caught before, half hidden by the table as it was. There was a line in the boards that didn’t match with the rest of the flooring. Dirt and dust had filled in much of it, but laying at the angle she was, it almost looked like—
Temperance sat up, her arms obeying her this time as energy flushed through her in a way that it hadn’t for days now. That’s a trapdoor! I bet Martin left something in there to help me, that’s probably the puzzle he mentioned. I get that opened and I can leave soon as I’m better. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s all manner of things in there. Ropes. Tools. Proper food.
Maybe even some whiskey!
She pushed the table to one side, her body groaning in protest, the pot of water tipping on its side and spilling its contents on the floor. Temperance didn’t care. She wanted whatever lay beneath her.
It took some work to get her fingers beneath the boards. Wiggling them back and forth, she raised up the trapdoor inch by careful inch. Her mouth salivated at the thought of finally losing herself in a drink again—and freedom, of course.
The trapdoor sprang away. Temperance leaned over the hole, peering in hungrily to study her prize. Her breath hitched in her throat.
A small alcove waited below, perhaps just big enough to fit her. It was empty.
“No,” she muttered. Her voice grew louder. “No, no, NO!”
Temperance slammed her fists against the floor, sobs wracking through her. It wasn’t fair. Nothing in her life had been fair for months, of course, but this moment felt particularly cruel.
At last the frustration faded, and Temperance climbed to her feet. Her mouth felt like she had stuffed a towel in it, so she hobbled over to the table. She needed a drink right now, even if it was only water.
The empty pot greeted her, seeming to stare accusingly as she stood there, limbs quivering. A few trickles of water dripped onto the floor.
Fine. This is fine. I’ll just get more. Did it once already today, shouldn’t be too hard to do again.
Her whole body gave another shake, as if trying to voice its disagreement, but Temperance ignored it. She wanted water, and by the Divines she was going to get it.
Pulling her coat back on and gathering the walking stick, she stumbled out the door, every muscle screaming in protest. Behind her, the bed called out to forget the water and return to its embrace.
The trees wavered in her vision as she dragged the cook pot along, the ground rising and swelling like an ocean current. Temperance stopped, blinked to clear her vision, then kept on going. It couldn’t be too much further to the stream. She would make it.
Further on, a wave of dizziness nearly knocked her over. She let go of the sled to put a hand against her forehead, eyes squeezed shut as she waited for the dizziness to pass. The ground under her feet buckled and swayed, then went still at last.
A little less confident than before, she picked up the branch and kept walking. The forest slid by, a sea of trees in all directions, any bearings Temperance had learned the last few days lost to her dizziness. Somewhere ahead the stream waited.
When it came into view at last, she realized her lightheadedness was worse than she thought. This wasn’t a section she was familiar with. She had wandered off course along the way, and who knew how far of a walk she had to get back? Still, it was sweet, refreshing water. Perhaps she would just stay here beside it until the sickness passed.
Falling on her knees, she drank her fill. Her insides grumbled a bit as they expanded to make room, but she didn’t feel nauseous, a fact for which Temperance was grateful. She turned to collect the pot.
The ground under her feet gave a shake. At first Temperance ignored it, assuming it was simply another wave of dizziness come to plague her. She closed her eyes, taking slow, deep breaths. The shaking continued, growing stronger.
She opened her eyes. The ground next to her began to crack, water from the stream diverting and pouring into the gap. Temperance fell backwards and scrambled away, afraid she might pitch in. Had she accidentally set off a sinkhole?
Unfortunately, it was nothing quite so simple. As she watched, a rough gray claw reached out of the hole and dug into the mud, pulling more gray bulk out behind it.
What in the heck is going on? Is that a . . . no, it can’t be. I’d have noticed some signs before now.
Temperance crawled back further as the massive gray creature emerged from the hole and gave its body a shake, sending clods of dirt flying in all directions. The thing looked like a pile of stones come to life, its enormous body long and snakelike, several short legs running its length and a pair of scissor-like
pincers near the front. It turned in her direction right about the time Temperance’s back collided with a tree. Stones broke apart to reveal a massive blue tongue and barbed teeth. The creature let out a steaming hiss, the stench of its breath like eggs left to sour in the sun.
Dammit, that’s a lurker alright! Temperance swallowed, a lump sticking in her throat. Lurkers were ambush predators that tended to feed on large, slow-moving animals, although her grandfather had claimed to see one devour a wikilou once. This one certainly looked big enough to do so. Temperance would hardly serve for more than an appetizer.
The lurker let out another stinking hiss, and Temperance discovered that she wasn’t as weak-limbed as she had thought. Energy flowed through her legs and she took off running in what she hoped was the general direction of the cabin. Behind her, trees snapped and broke as the lurker gave chase.
This is bad. This is really, REALLY bad! Temperance risked a glance over her shoulder, then stumbled and fell over a branch. The lurker snapped a tree in half with its pincers and leapt forward. Temperance rolled to one side, half landing in the stream, just barely avoiding being crushed beneath the massive creature.
While the lurker thrashed about searching for prey that was no longer there, Temperance climbed to her feet and stumbled off, following the stream back to its source. Her body was shaking again, although whether from fear or fever she didn’t know. The trees swam about her.
Ahead, the spring appeared. Water bubbled from the ground, and a small squirrel fled into the trees as Temperance pelted by, her legs screaming but pushing her on, nonetheless. Behind her came the lurker’s hiss, and the sound of more falling trees.
Temperance couldn’t have said how long she ran, the noise of the lurker growing closer with every passing second. Just when her lungs felt as if they were about to burst, the cabin appeared, front door standing open and inviting. She dodged a tree branch that came flying past her shoulder and leapt over another one that the lurker hurled as if it were little more than a twig.