Ranias looked nervous. “You’re not going to read it?”
“Maybe when we get back to camp.”
“It’s just that—”
“What?”
“She wrote to me, too. She didn’t abandon you, boss. They had to take the boy back to Jin-Sayeng. They couldn’t find a healer here. I know where to find her. If things are done here now, maybe you could find the time to visit.”
Enosh said nothing, which appeared to make Ranias fidget even more. Ranias pulled his horse up so he could trot right next to him. “She loves you, boss.”
He contemplated telling him it was none of his business. Instead, he murmured, “Wasn’t she the one who ran off with that man?”
“That man was her brother’s friend. Of course he would go with her. Aden says he would’ve followed her brother to the end of the world. I don’t think they meant anything by it. Why else would she continue to write you?”
“I don’t have time for this,” he snapped. He could see the tents from their encampment in the distance. He clicked his tongue and kicked his horse into a gallop.
The posts that marked the edge of their encampment weren’t even in sight when he realized something was wrong. There was too much smoke in the distance. He screamed at the horse, digging his boots into the saddle in an effort to stay mounted. A dark figure flashed in front of him and the horse reared.
His cheek smashed to the ground first. He was still trying to make sense of his surroundings when he heard a voice. “Ylir yn Garr. Of all the sons of bitches to meet…”
Enosh lashed out before he could finish. The movement tore the blade from his attacker’s hand, but before Enosh could take another step, a snake appeared and coiled itself around his wrist. He jerked back. The figure rushed into the darkness of the wood behind them.
He gave chase. But once he found himself under the trees, he found only by silence and soft-swaying branches. He narrowed his eyes, but he couldn’t see any sign of where the man had gone.
That bastard Bannal. He had been so confident that the man was secure in his custody just a few hours ago. He had been meaning to talk to him as soon as he returned to camp, to press him for further answers on the beast and its nature. And now he was out there. Escaped. How? He tugged his sword free from his belt and walked back to his horse. Not far from the road, he caught sight of burning tents and dead men spread out like poisoned rats in a field.
He walked over to the bodies, his insides tightening. How? The man was half-starved. Perhaps he did poison them—he could see no signs of blood. One body had a mass of purple bruises around the head.
“He couldn’t have gone far,” Ranias said, meeting him by the edge of the camp. It was obvious, from the way he stood, that he was trying to keep a healthy distance between him and Enosh’s blade.
“Where’s Sapphire?” Enosh snarled.
“I’m here,” she said, stepping out from behind a tent.
He reached out to strike her and stopped, his hand hovering over her face. She stood her ground, staring back at him with fierce eyes. “I did not betray you,” she said. “I’d have gone with him if I had.”
He allowed his arm to drop to his side. “Then tell me how.”
“There are dead men around you and you ask how?” She snorted. “Bannal is more powerful than you gave him credit for. It looks like he prepared something that killed his guards. They fell dead while he was making his escape.”
“We had him for months.”
“Biding his time—waiting.”
“He had been cooperative.”
“A ruse. I thought you’d know better.” She started to walk away.
Enosh followed her. “You really didn’t betray me, Sapphire? It would be terrible for you if you did.”
“I hate that man,” she said, “with all my heart.”
The memory of her sitting on that beach in Enji, with the dying girl in her lap, returned to him. The girl—her sister, he learned much later on—was still bleeding from the wound Bannal had given her when she died. He felt ashamed for not remembering sooner.
“I needed to ask,” he said. The words rang hollow in his ears.
Chapter Two
The grey-haired woman’s hands shook as she struggled to unclasp the lock from the lower half of the wooden gate. Kefier rushed to help her, but she shook her head. “It’s bad luck to allow a stranger let himself in.” Her voice was deep and whole, which was surprising coming from someone with skin that looked like dried apricots. She glanced at Sume. “Are you here for her?”
Sume felt her belly flutter. She still wasn’t used to all the attention, and it was happening more often these days. She knew people meant well, that they were just trying to help, but she felt exposed all the same.
“We’re here for my nephew, Dai,” Sume said, trying to get the woman to look past her giant belly and to the covered wagon that stood out on the street, under the rain. “We sent you a letter a few weeks ago.”
The old woman squinted. “A letter? Let me see—ah. This is the boy who wouldn’t wake up. How many moons has it been?”
“Eight,” Sume said.
“I’m going outside!” the woman called back to the yard. Sume couldn’t see anyone, but she heard a dog bark in response. The wind rushed towards them and blew one of the windows open.
The woman stepped out, grabbing two sedge hats from the porch along the way. She placed one over her head. Pulling herself up on her toes, she dropped the other on Sume’s.
“You should know better than to go out like this,” she said, shaking her head. “In this kind of weather…”
Sume flushed. “We’re just here for my nephew.”
“So you say. Well, come along then. You—hold that gate open,” she barked, pointing at Kefier.
They waded through the mud and back to the wagon. The woman hobbled to the horse first, pulling the blanket past his shoulders to cover his head. “There’s a stable out back. Your man can bring the horse in later.” She sneezed and walked to the back of the wagon, where she tugged at the canvas, revealing Dai’s still form.
She ran her wrinkled fingers along his face and up his neck. “No fever,” she said, more to herself than Sume. “Breathing’s fine. Was there an infection?”
“There was, after he was wounded. We thought as soon as it went away that he would wake up.”
“His skin looks healthy enough. This rain! We need to go inside.” She pressed her knee on the wagon and grabbed Dai’s shoulders. Sume stepped forward to help. She kicked her away. “You should be in bed in your condition. Should’ve stayed in bed the last three weeks, if you had a brain in your head.”
“We were on the road the last few weeks. On a ship before that. We haven’t stopped to rest since we left the port.” She felt the rain on her skin just then and trembled a little.
The woman’s gaze softened. “Still.”
“Kefier can take him inside.”
“I’ll take care of it.” The woman hefted Dai over her frail shoulders. She hobbled forward and reached the gate before turning. “Take care of your horse.”
“Look, ah, can I carry him, grandma? I don’t want your back to break.” Kefier reached out.
She slapped his hands away. “Call me grandma again and I’ll hit you. I used to carry sacks of rice up and down the mountain that weighed more than this. To the stable, now. There should still be a bag of feed left. You’ll need to get some more from the village later. Well? Don’t just stand there! Your animal will freeze to death! You!” she barked, pointing at Sume. “Are you deaf or daft? Get inside. Children, honestly.”
The healer’s hut was sparse. She laid Dai down on the bamboo floor and went into a room. Sume sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. He had always been a little chubby; now he had grown so thin his collarbones stuck out like tree roots and blue veins spread out like cobwebs under his pale skin. She had tried to feed him, but the boy would not take in more than a few sips of broth or porridge at a time.
The old woman returned with several blankets. “Tell me what happened.”
“He was stabbed.”
“By what?”
“A sword, I think. I’m not familiar with the kind.” Sume pulled back Dai’s shirt, showing the puckered scar. “The healer who stitched him up said it hit nothing vital. But he lost consciousness. He’s been asleep since.”
“And you said there was an infection?”
She nodded. “Maybe three days after, he caught a fever. We took him to another healer, who bled him. He almost didn’t make it. The fever came and went, leaving him weaker each time. We tried everything we could—herbal baths, infusions. Kefier went out one night to kill a cat outside the window—we were told this would drive the evil spirits away. He didn’t want to do it, but…”
She drew a deep breath. “I think it was two moons after, maybe three, before he could breathe easy. We thought he would wake up then, but he continued to sleep.”
The healer chewed her cheek while she pressed her fingers around Dai’s thin arm. “This killing a cat thing—I’m not familiar with it.”
“No, Sang. It was in Gaspar we did this. The healer in Aret-ni was most insistent. He refused to treat Dai any further if this thing wasn’t done.”
The woman seemed to find this amusing, but she declined to comment. She took a jar of oil from the windowsill, unscrewed the lid, and dipped her finger. She wiped it under Dai’s nose and watched him for a moment. “So you returned to Jin-Sayeng after the fevers left him.”
“We had to stay in Gaspar for a while—I earned money scrubbing pots in an inn and Kefier helped out at the docks. But yes, we had to. The healer in Gaspar spoke highly of you. There were no ships heading for Jin-Sayeng, but Kefier found a boat and took us past the border to the closest town.”
“He braved those waters?”
“We had no choice.”
“Some people would have chosen not to move at all.” The woman snorted. “But then, I already pegged you both as fools the moment I saw you out in this rain.”
“It was not an easy journey.”
“What did you do after?”
“We sold the boat and caught a wagon heading to Sutan, and then another heading to Bara after. We bought the horse and wagon in Bara and now, here we are.”
“And this all took another couple of moons, I suppose? You must love the boy so much.”
“I helped raise him, Sang.”
“Where is his mother?”
“She was in Fuyyu, last I saw her.” Sume felt her belly roll again and pressed her fingers along the skin where this happened. “I would like him to be well before I bring him back.”
“Home is not Fuyyu, I take it. Home is Akki.” She tapped her ear. “I can spot that accent from down the road.”
Sume gave a polite smile. “Akki is even further away. I’ve not been back in—” She stopped. A dark spot had flashed in the corner of her vision and her head suddenly felt like it wanted to split open.
The healer moved away from Dai to place a hand on her shoulder. “Is this your birth month?”
She almost didn’t answer. When she did, it was like someone else’s voice in her head. “I don’t know.”
The woman frowned. “I’ll brew you some tea. And then I’ll see what I can do for your nephew.”
Sume bowed her head. “You have my thanks, Mistress Sagar.”
The woman stopped. “Sagar?” she asked. “That is the name that brought you here?”
“Yes. The healer in Aret-ni said so.” Sume felt numb. “That’s not you?”
“No. I never took my husband’s name. He must have meant my son.” The old woman glanced at the boy and then back at her. “Then he must have already come to a conclusion. Gods be kind.” She made the Sakku sign for averting danger.
“I don’t understand.” Sume struggled to contain her panic. “When we asked, they pointed us here.”
“My son, I said. I never took his father’s name—we were never married.” The old woman swallowed. “His gift, you understand. We tried so hard to keep him away from the priestesses. If this healer sent you to him, then it must mean…no, I’m sorry. I don’t deal with this kind of ailment.”
“Don’t say that, Sang. We came all this way. Maybe he was mistaken? You must know something. Please.” She saw the old woman hesitate and pressed forward. “Your son. Where is he?”
“I’ll see what I can do for your nephew, child.” She hobbled towards the kitchen. On the doorway, she paused, her face darkening. “My son is in Shirrokaru. I have not seen him in over twenty years. I don’t think I ever will again.”
Then she ducked under the curtain, giving Sume the impression that for all her wrinkled skin and bent bones, she must have once been a tall woman.
Kefier took a deep breath, inhaling the rotted scent of wet wood and plant sap. Several banana plants had grown too close to the barn window; one wall was cracked. The gelding eyed the seam before tiptoeing after him.
“I hope that bag of feed of yours hasn’t sprouted yet, Jang,” he murmured. He found an empty stall and tried to lead Jang into it. The gelding had other ideas and refused to budge a few feet from the doorway. “Oh, come on,” he grumbled. “It’ll keep you out of the rain, at least. You know we can’t afford a fancy hotel for us.” After a few more moments, he gave up and left the horse in the middle of the barn. He removed the bridle, tied a rope around Jang’s neck, and rubbed him down with a towel.
He glanced through the window at the healer’s small hut and hoped that she could figure out what was wrong with Dai. They had come a very long way for her skills—the healer at Aret-ni had sworn that he was sure Sagar could fix this. Sume complained little, but he knew she was getting tired. Some rest and relief from worry would do her good. Ever since they had left Gaspar, he had caught her looking more and more distant and he wasn’t sure how to deal with that at all.
He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw the old woman staring down at him, her hooked nose dripping with rainwater. Normally, being surprised like that made him jumpy, but something about her steady stance and the stench of herbs that clung to her skin like a second coat calmed him.
“How is he?” he asked, rubbing his head.
“The boy? The boy is as well as he could ever be. I know a thing or two about caring for someone in his state. Your wife, on the other hand...”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a carrot. She handed it over to the horse. “You should have never allowed her to take this journey, if indeed you came from as far as she said.”
“She insisted.”
“Her feet are swollen, and she’s having headaches.”
“You mean that isn’t normal?”
She smacked his head with a damp rag. “After you’ve placed a child in that girl’s belly you could at least pretend to show more concern.”
“I didn’t—I mean…I am concerned,” he said, rubbing the spot where she hit him. He swallowed. “I don’t know what to do. Is it that bad?”
“I’ve seen this before. She can die at any moment, or the child could be stillborn.” The old woman peered through the window. “She’s sleeping right now. I’m going down to the village—a friend of mine may have the herbs she needs. Then again, perhaps she won’t. I’ll need to fix dinner, in any case.”
“Do you need a ride?”
She eyed the horse. “You need to take better care of your family. No, leave him be.”
“But it’s pouring out there.”
“It’s just the monsoon. I’ve walked that road for over sixty years.” She grabbed her hat. “If you want to be useful, one of those banana plants has sprouted a flower. If you could get it for me, I could chop it up for the stew.” She ducked under the barn door and disappeared.
The banana inflorescence was harder to cut down than it appeared. He returned to the hut, his fingers sticky with sap. Despite the old healer’s words, he found Sume sitting wide awake, her hands on Dai’s head.
A pang of guilt rushed through him. The boy had been hurt defending him in the first place. Oji’s son, he thought. He still couldn’t make that part make sense. The father, too, would have done the same for him. He curled his fingers into fists and glanced at Sume.
“You should sleep some more,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “I’ll watch him. In your condition…”
“Stop talking about my condition.” There was a layer of ice in her voice. “I don’t want to think about it. I would like to live one day without anyone talking about it to my face.”
“Sume—”
“Please.” She leaned back, her legs stretched across the floor.
Kefier scratched his face. She was unbelievably stubborn. He knew that before he’d met her, of course, but it had ceased to be amusing as of late. He gestured at her. “I know you’d rather not talk about it, but you can’t deny that.”
“Dai’s more important, right now.”
“For fuck’s sake, woman. There’s nothing else we can do for Dai. What if something happens to you?”
“I think I can handle myself just fine.”
Kefier swallowed. “What if…what if something happens to the child?”
Sume didn’t answer. He ran a hand through his wet hair and looked away.
“A child without a father…” she started.
He slammed the door shut. “Don’t say that!”
She looked startled. He didn’t care, and drew closer, pointing at her. “Don’t even think it. You understand?”
When she refused to respond, he stomped into the kitchen. He dumped the inflorescence near the sink and went out the back door to find wood for the stove.
Sume was sitting near the curtained doorway when he returned. “You’re angry,” she said.
He hated it when she felt like she had to point out his own feelings. “I don’t like hearing you talk that way. You’re not the only one who’s tired of this whole fucking thing.”
She laughed.
“I know,” he snapped, his ears burning. “I know you’ve got a lot more to worry about. That’s not what I meant.”
An Elegy of Heroes Page 41
