I glanced at Liitae, who hovered above my head, and shrugged. “You heard the guy, let's go.” The orb bobbed and perched itself above my shoulder as Menen helped me to my feet.
“You'll be fine,” he assured me before releasing my arm. “Probably.”
“I hope so,” I whispered as I watched Crenen pick some gerani from the tree.
“Want some?” Crenen asked, dangling a bunch out to me. My stomach growled and I nodded. Crenen's mouth split into a vicious grin. “Good! When we reach Realm of Yenen we give you some, yeah?” He popped one in his mouth.
“Jerk.”
“Come, Strange Coward Boy.” He turned and headed for the trees.
“Isn't it about time you give me a different name?” I asked, beginning to follow him, pleased to note that my legs were mostly steady.
Jenen scoffed behind me. “I've had the same one since I was sixteen. You'll not get a name-change so easily.”
I shrugged. “Ah well. Could be worse. I mean, I could be the nasty dog.”
“True,” Lon murmured.
“Well,” I turned and waved my hand once, wincing at the flaring pain, “see you all later.”
“Take care of yourself, Key,” Veija said.
I smiled. “As much as Crenen will allow.” I turned back around and saw the Yenen clan leader tapping his clawed fingers.
“Not have all day.”
“Right,” I said, catching up to him. “By ground or by tree?”
Crenen scoffed now. “What you thinking we be, monkeys? We walk on ground like was intended.”
“Works for me,” I said, my mind already made up not to let anything get to me.
Of course, that was before I met the doctor.
17
The Doctor
It was everything I could do to keep up with Crenen, but I managed it. I was too out of breath to think of conversation, so my thoughts dwelt on Chasym's condition—better that than to reflect on my hands.
Finally, Crenen called a halt, and I rested flat on my back, gasping for air in a small, green clearing. Liitae plopped in the soft grass beside me and pulsed erratically with light. I had the distinct impression it was mocking me. I reached over to give it a gentle flick but cried out.
“Make us wonder if dolt should be permanent name, yeah?” Crenen commented as he plucked a gerani from its bunch and popped it in his mouth.
“Ha. Ha. You try burning your hands raw sometime, then move them.” I tilted my head to view Crenen sitting on a large mossy rock.
“That our point, yeah? Wouldn't.”
“Yeah, well. Never mind. How close are we?
“Not far.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, that's helpful. How many more hours, Crenen?”
He selected the largest gerani and took his time chewing. “We arrive in short time, maybe even less than time you say.”
“An hour?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
I glanced at the noonday sun. So, his estimation about getting back by nightfall was plausible. “Hey, Crenen, I've been meaning to ask you...”
“Which question?”
“About this doctor...?”
“What about?” Crenen stashed the gerani bunch in his pocket.
“Won't that smush them?” I asked.
Crenen looked at me and blinked. “The doctor?”
I laughed. “No, the gerani.”
His lip curved into a half-smile. “What about Screechy Hurting Doctor?”
“Well, Veija said Chasym's blood is hard to get. Can the doctor save him?”
Crenen's eyes caught the light of the sun and flashed. “Worth trying, yeah? All one can do, we think.”
“That's true.”
He leaned forward. “What is it, Key?”
How he sensed my troubled thoughts I couldn't be sure. I looked back up and saw an honest-to-goodness sober expression on his face.
“Am I Vendaeva?” I asked.
“Are you?”
I sighed. “This disease. Somehow, I'm supposed to stop it, right? But, I mean, how in the world am I gonna do that? I'm not a doctor, or a wizard, or a fairy. I'm just a high school kid with an overactive imagination and a penchant for lying. Suddenly I'm swept up in something way over my head—something that only happens in video games and subpar films with bad CGI. But this is real. We're real. I'm here. And somehow, I have to cure a worldwide epidemic, with no knowledge of how to do it—and my only source? A ditsy lady who thinks mosquitoes can enter her visions at random.” I raised my palms above my head despite the pain. “And I can't even use my hands now.”
Crenen's mouth lifted into a smile. “What is your point, Key?”
I lowered my hands. “What would you do?”
“Question. As you are doing. There are thousands of other people in Paradise, even with this disease. Think. If you have one hundred questions, certainly there are one hundred people, each with an answer to give.”
I smirked. “You have an interesting outlook on things, Prince.” At first I hadn't been sure, but Crenen was definitely speaking in perfect English.
He flashed a toothy grin. “All right, Key. I'll give you two free questions. I may not answer them in whole, but I will say what I can. Yeah?”
“What'd I do to deserve this?” I asked, turning my eyes to gaze at the shifting branches above me. The sun's light splayed dancing shadows across the ground, and its rays sparkled through the leaves overhead.
“You grew.”
I looked at him.
“Only a little,” he assured me.
“Not physically, though.” I sighed.
He scoffed. “Does that really matter?”
“No,” I said. “Not anymore.” There were too many important things going on to let a simple matter like height bother me now.
“Now, ask your questions before I change my mind.”
I thought for a moment. There were so many things I could ask; so many directions I could go. But I could get answers from Menen later. I must be careful what I selected now.
“Okay, first. Why do you want Jenen to take over Yenen Clan?” It was one of the questions that had plagued me the longest, and just asking it, knowing he had to give an answer, was satisfying.
He hesitated, his eyes growing distant as he calculated what to tell me. “When we were young, even though I was the older twin, I followed Jenen as a loyal pet follows his master. There were moments I would attempt to take charge, but Jenen's levelheadedness was much more suited for leadership. I taught him the ways of fighting, of survival. And he, in turn, shared with me the meaning of love for one's people. In those youthful days we never considered who would become leader one day, because we didn't have to. We had an elder brother to lead us.
“Yenen, named after our father. He was to be the clan's next leader, but the Paradisaical disease struck him down when he was only sixteen. It was the first tragedy in our family, but not the last.”
I was still. Even the wind in the trees fell mute, and the forest creatures seemed content to listen in silence.
“Jenen had always been a solemn child, but when Yenen died he grew very distant. We were fifteen at the time, and though he and I were twins, I think Yenen and Jenen were closer somehow. Both were more like my parents: somber. I was different from them.”
I breathed shallowly, unwilling to startle Crenen out of his reverie.
“After our brother's funeral, it finally occurred to me that I would be next in line for leadership when my father died. And I knew I wasn't suited for it.”
“But your people respect you,” I said.
“Respect, yes. Love? No.” He looked up at the treetops. “It's not that I can't lead, just that Jenen is better. He is levelheaded, remember? You know I'm not.”
“But I still think you're wrong, Crenen.”
He looked down and met my eyes.
“I think your people do love you.”
He chuckled. “As if you could possibly know that, Key. You've neve
r seen me interact with them.”
“Something I have a feeling you made sure of,” I said, shifting to carefully rest my right arm under my head. “But you only explained half the question.”
Shrugging, he said simply, “Jenen is better suited for it.”
“Yeah, except that he's not willing.”
Crenen stood up on the rock he'd been sitting on and reached up to snap a twig from its branch. “Jenen has a deep wound. He is afraid to care again for fear of making it deeper. I want to show him that wounds do heal.” He tossed the twig at my feet. “That even though a part of him will never be whole again, he is still the majestic tree. Will you help me show him, Key?”
I gazed at the twig, then up at him. “Yes. I'll help you.”
His smile broadened. “And in return, let me take some of that weight from your shoulders.” He jumped from the rock and took my arm. Pulled me to my feet. “We'll go twice as fast if you aren't doing the work.” He wrapped my arm around his shoulders and slid his arm around my waist. I gratefully accepted his aid, knowing I couldn't run on my own any farther. Crenen crouched down, grinning. “Hold on.” He sprang into the air and landed on a thick branch. Soon we were leaping through the air, from branch to branch.
“I thought you said you weren't a monkey,” I called above the wind noise.
He laughed. “Only birds can fly like this!”
We reached the high wall of trees surrounding the Realm of Yenen before another hour was up, just as Crenen had said. This time I was shown the easy way in. One tree among the many had a hidden door. One could easily pull it open if one found the right knot, then stroll on into the Realm.
Six guards met us on the other side of the door and Crenen relinquished his arm, passing me to another guard, who easily lifted me in his arms. I was surprised by how weak I was—I couldn't stand on my own before the guard picked me up.
“Careful, yeah?” Crenen barked, giving the guard the evil eye, and I was grateful for his unusual show of kindness.
We proceeded toward the largest tree where I'd first laid eyes on Veija and Lon. This time, however, we went around the giant tree and climbed down a short set of stairs to enter through a less impressive door. The room beyond was warm and brightly lit. A fire crackled cheerily in a hearth and I wondered about the safety of fire inside a tree.
I was laid on a soft bed and covered with a fur. Sighing, I closed my eyes and began drifting into a deep sleep.
“No, Strange Coward Boy.” Crenen rapped me on the side of the head with his bony knuckles. “Can't sleep yet.”
I moaned but forced my eyes open. “I know.”
“Screechy Hurting Doctor be here soon, yeah?”
“And for the record, I only cause people to hurt when they squirm a lot,” a crisp female voice said from somewhere to my right.
I sat up, or tried anyway, but found myself tangled in the heavy fur, unable to move my hands or feet. I didn't need to worry, though, as the woman appeared above my head a second later. She was beautiful, perhaps twenty years old, with pale skin and dark brown hair pulled into a loose bun behind her head, several long strands hanging free. Her eyes were a clear, sapphire blue and her lips were deep red. She wasn't smiling.
“What a mess,” she commented, wrinkling her nose. “And when is the last time you had a bath?”
I thought back. “A while.”
“Well, that much is obvious.” She tore the fur away. “You need to bathe before anything else.”
I wouldn't argue. I knew better than anybody how much I needed one.
“And what is that horrible garb you're wearing?” she asked, pinching the collar of my muddy robe between long claws. “That needs to be burned.”
“Please, burn it.”
The woman doctor motioned a servant over. “Prepare a bath. Hurry, before the stench lingers too long in the air and sticks.”
I sniffed my robe. It smelled more of pine than filth, really.
She whirled on Crenen. “And where have you been?”
“Busy,” he replied, utterly unconcerned.
She scowled. “One of these days you're going to end up dead, and when that happens, don't come crawling to me for help.”
“By the time he's dead,” I interjected, “he'll have no need for a doctor, no matter how adept.”
She turned her withering gaze on me. “And what is this child?”
Ignoring the reference, I raised an eyebrow. “What's with you constantly saying 'and' at the beginning of all your sentences?”
Her scowl deepened, distorting her fair features. She turned a questioning stare on Crenen, who ignored her as he rummaged through his pockets.
“Here,” he said, pulling forth a single gerani, miraculously not smushed. “As promised, yeah?” He offered the precious morsel to me, and I eagerly accepted it, ignoring the burst of pain in my hand.
I was about to pop it in my mouth when the doctor snatched it from my fingers. “This is not an appropriate food to eat when one is injured.”
I could handle snide remarks about my clothes, my appearance, or my odor, but take away the gerani I’d worked so hard to earn and she was going too far. “That's mine. Give it back, lady.”
She dropped it on the floor and stomped on it. “If you really want it now, go ahead and eat it.”
I stared at the floor. What kind of creep would do that?
“That was his,” Crenen said with a sharp hiss.
“And it still is,” she replied.
The servant entered, bowed, and announced the bath was ready before Crenen could react.
“Good,” the doctor said, turning back to me. “Go clean yourself up.”
I attempted to get up, but my body felt like it weighed two tons and I fell back against my pillow.
She raised an eyebrow. “Well, are you going, or must I carry you?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
Crenen shoved the woman aside and lifted me into his arms. “Come,” he whispered. “I will carry you.”
As we followed the servant into the next room, steam hit me in the face. I grinned. But my thoughts returned to the woman doctor and my grin fell.
“Crenen?”
“Hm?”
“She has no respect for anyone. You've disposed of people for less—not that I'm condoning your executions, but...I'm a little surprised you put up with her.”
He sat me down on the wooden floor. I glanced over and found that the bath's edge was at ground level; it was a large, rectangular tub dug out of the ground and covered in smooth river rocks, then filled to the brim with clean, hot water.
“She is the best,” he answered, removing my filthy robe, “and we need the best to save Chasym.
I sighed. “Somehow I have a feeling Chasym'll never forgive us for having a wench like that save his life.”
Crenen stood, leaving the rest of the undressing to me. “Even so, you and I both know he can't afford to be choosy in his condition.”
I nodded. “Hey, I never did ask you that second question.”
Crenen laughed. “Save it. I'll let you ask your question later.”
“Okay.”
“I'll find you a decent wardrobe.” He lifted the muddy robe up to inspect it. “Scrub hard, yeah?”
With a parting wink, he closed the door and left me to ponder recent events on my own. Well, almost on my own. A male servant took that moment to step into the open and remove my hospital gown, then aid me in entering the water.
I sighed as the water soaked into my aching muscles, then watched in fascination as clumps of mud detached from my body and floated to the surface I kept my hands out of the bath, for the sake of my wounds, propping my elbows against the tub's edge.
“Please soak for a while,” the servant said, bowing. “I shall return with food.”
I slid further into the water, tilted my head back against the bath's edge, and basked in my moment of peace.
“This is what Paradise should be,” I said, closing my eyes.
/>
18
The Threat of a Shadow
I was the type of high schooler who always fell asleep in class. My days wore away while I napped; at my desk, at the lunch table, on the bus (when I rode it) and under the old oak in my backyard (though not when it was snowing outside).
I desperately wanted those days back. The days when I could sleep.
The weariness I’d collected over the last two weeks caught up with me. I didn't wake up as the servant scrubbed me clean, toweled me dry, dressed me, and hauled me back to the good doctor's bed.
It wasn't until my hand caught on fire that my eyes snapped open and I yelped. A few blinks brought the doctor into focus, her mouth twisted in a sardonic smile.
“Sleep well?” she asked as she peeled more of the bandages away from my hand. Apparently keeping it out of the water had been a bad idea, as now the bandages were stuck to my dried magical blood.
“Yeah, while it lasted.” I winced. “Where's Crenen?”
“There,” she said, pointing to a chair by the fire.
I squinted and made out the sleeping form of my captor, his lopsided ponytail jutting up over the wingback. He was probably about as tired as me.
I fixed my gaze on the doctor. “Do you know why he goes back and forth between broken and non-broken English?”
She pulled the last of the bandage off and began examining my hand by the afternoon light streaming through a carved window. “He hates English.”
“So I've heard, but why does he switch back and forth?”
She picked up a wet cloth and slapped it onto my palm. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. “Simple, really. When he is serious or very angry, he lets slip just how good he is at speaking it. Otherwise he puts on a front. He's always putting on a front. Stubborn, selfish, demented...”
Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. “That really hurts. What are you using?”
She glanced up and smirked. “Crenen said you got into some bad water. So I'm washing it away with good water.”
“It's just water?” I asked between clenched teeth.
A Liar in Paradise Page 20
