The Healers' Road

by S E Robertson

“I’m not good at this.” Laris hung his head, his arms bridging the edges of the door. “I’ve never been good with girls. I’m messing this up. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.” She stared at his embarrassed frustration. Either he had come to ask for something that would make him more attractive to girls, or – or he was messing this up, now, with her, as though he meant to charm her. As though he had meant to ask her out on a date.

  The two potentialities crashed into one another, and the impossible one shattered. “I’m sorry, but my ability doesn’t work that way. I can’t make you taller or faster or better in conversation. Nothing like that.”

  “I know, I...I didn’t mean that.”

  The Yanweian muttered into the thickening silence, “I’ll see you at camp.” He grabbed his valise and his still-drying logbook on his way out. He flew past Agna, who looked away before she could think of an excuse to stop him, and Laris, who stepped aside to let him go.

  Laris took a step inside the tent, and Agna felt her chest tighten. They were alone. That was important. He stopped halfway across the tent. Agna couldn’t explain why she needed so much space between herself and this confused Kaveran boy, who was merely staring at the floor. She couldn’t explain why she wanted to take his hand, either, when he would so obviously laugh at her for it.

  Laris rested his hands on the edge of the examination table. “I’m sorry that I’m so bad at saying it. I think – I think you seem really interesting, and I, um. I-I wish I could get to know you better. That’s all.”

  Backing away from him didn’t stop the tears from coming. Laris froze, fumbling for something to say. “I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry. What’s wrong?” He stepped toward her, she backed away, and the hurt in his eyes made her cry harder.

  “Who put you up to this? What do they want?”

  “I don’t – what?”

  “Who put you up to it? Was it a dare? Did they make you do it?”

  “I didn’t – nobody did. I mean, I – yesterday they – everybody said I should go and see you again because I – at the – at the pub last night I was... you know, talking about you a lot, I guess, I mean, good things – and they said I should go and-and talk to you.”

  She still wanted to shake him, to demand that he say something less sweet and impossible. Something she deserved. “That’s not true, don’t say that.”

  “I...what?”

  “You shouldn’t do that. Whoever thinks that’s funny, they’re wrong. You always think it’s so funny to tease the homely girl.”

  “It’s not like that! I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” Another step and his hand would be on her arm, to comfort her. Her whole body cried out for it. It could not be true.

  “Get out.”

  Laris fled. She held up long enough to lose sight of him.

  ***

  A dark figure stepped into the tent. He stood a little distance away until she had a chance to dry her face on her sleeve.

  “Are you all right? What happened?”

  Agna sniffled, unflatteringly. “He was being obnoxious. Saying things.”

  “Mmn.” The Yanweian seemed to relax. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “He was—” She sighed, unwilling to lay out her shame. “He was saying things to make fun of me. I guess someone put him up to it.”

  “Oh. ...That’s childish of him. He should have grown out of the ‘make fun of the girl you like’ phase by now.”

  “Ugh, stop it! What’s wrong with all of you? You think that’s so funny.”

  “I don’t think it’s funny. I don’t understand.”

  “He didn’t like me. How stupid.”

  “I see.” It was just a quiet remark – not a defense, not an answer. “I made enough dinner for two. You’re welcome to have some.”

  “Oh. All right.” He was in the door before she could add, “Thank you.”

  The medic was silent long enough for another thought to pass: he wasn’t being cold to her now. “You’re welcome.”

  ***

  “I know it’s none of my business.”

  Agna couldn’t snap back. Not when she could hardly think except to feel wretched. Not when he had been kind enough to make her dinner, or at least to make enough for both of them. A passive favor was more than she’d expected from him. Even if she’d had the will to retort, it would be ungrateful.

  The medic went on. “I do think he liked you. I think you should talk to him. – No, listen,” he insisted. Agna sighed and let go of the argument. She didn’t have the energy to launch it, anyway. “You don’t have to. I just think you might regret it if you don’t. That’s all.”

  Agna crossed her arms over her knees. “I was going to go out to the shrine. I don’t have time to do both before it gets too dark.”

  “I’ll go with you to the shrine, if you don’t want to go alone.”

  She straightened to look past the campfire at him. He was staring into the flames, his expression level and uncritical, one hand toying with the torque around his neck. He was offering her a favor, for whatever reasons he might have. “Thank you,” she said at last.

  “If you do want to go and see him, come back and get me before you head out to the shrine.”

  “All right.” Agna rubbed her eyes. It wouldn’t prove anything. But the Yanweian was right: she would regret what she’d said. She already regretted it. She wanted to tell Laris that she didn’t blame him completely. She believed that he was good at heart, in the end. She wanted to tell him not to be so easily manipulated into cruelty. “I need to change,” she said, and scrubbed her plate off.

  In the tent, picking through her limited choices, she reflected on what to say, and how to keep herself from flying into an unbecoming tantrum. She would just say what she had to say and go as quickly as possible, she thought, choosing the dark red dress from her trunk and checking the tent flaps before she loosened the belt of her healer’s robe.

  Agna brushed her hair out, wondering after the fact why she bothered. But at least this dress was cooler than her summer robe. She found some shoes in the trunk – they didn’t quite match the dress, but her sandals were wrong for this type of outfit. Why was she even thinking about this? She’d go to the nearest pub and ask, and either no one would know what she was talking about, or someone would point her at Laris’s house. He might not even be home.

  Agna took a deep breath and left the tent. The medic looked up from the campfire, the poker loose in his hand. His mouth twitched as though he had tried and failed to smile. He said nothing, and silently she thanked him for that.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  She’d look frivolous and cowardly if she backed out now. Agna set out on the road into town, trying not to look as though she were shivering.

  Near the edge of town, she found a tavern that looked well-lit and cozy. Chatter and laughter spilled out of the open doors. No one paid her any mind as she entered. Feeling obvious nonetheless, Agna stepped up to the bar.

  “I wonder if you might help me. I’m looking for a boy named Laris who lives in town. Can you tell me where I might find him?”

  The young man to her right stared and then snickered into his ale. Agna glared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re the new summer healer, aren’t you.”

  “Yes. Is that a problem?”

  He hid another round of giggling behind his hand, and the bartender shook her head and took over the conversation. “Laris Sona. About this tall, can’t get a word out.”

  “Yes, that sounds like him.”

  The patron pounded on the bar, out of breath. The bartender gave him an exasperated look. “Quiet, you.” She turned back to Agna. “He’s probably at home now. Down at the end of the block, turn right, third house down. Small place. He’s on the bottom floor.”

  The patron recovered enough to gasp, “But really. Who put you up to this, because I am buying them a drink right now.”


  “Oh, stop it,” the bartender chided.

  “I mean, he would not shut up about the summer healer girl last night.”

  “Ras, I don’t think the young lady is playing a trick.” The bartender was only a year or two older than Agna was, but Agna hardly noticed that behind the rising veil of fury.

  “Why is that funny to you?” She resisted shoving him off his bar stool. This random townsboy had taken on every speck of blame for what Laris had said earlier. And behind that, her mind whirled through what he had just said. It matched Laris’s story.

  The grin fell from the young man’s face. “Oh. You...actually do want to go.” He turned toward the bar, ducking his head. “I thought – sorry.”

  The bartender took his mug and pointed toward the door. “Go and show her where Laris lives. That’s what you’ll pay for that comment. I’ll keep your seat.”

  “All right, all right.” He slid from his bar stool and slunk toward the door.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Agna slipped a few coins onto the bar and followed the townsboy before anyone noticed.

  Outside, her guide ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I just – you know. He’s kind of a clod. Not stupid, just hopeless. So I thought. You know.”

  “You sound a little bit like him right now,” Agna said darkly.

  The boy laughed, breaking his chagrined slouch. ”I guess so. Ahh, I shouldn’t bust on him in front of strangers. I’ve known him forever. You don’t even think about it after a while. He knows he’s one of us no matter what we say. Makes a bad impression if you don’t know that, though.” He paused, looking over at her pensively. Agna broke from his gaze and feigned concentration on the cobblestones. “Did he go and see you again like we told him to?”

  Agna wished she had asked for some water at the tavern. She could hardly swallow. “He did.”

  “And I guess he did all right.”

  “I... don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Heh. Fair enough. – We’re there.” He nodded to one of the houses, standing back. “I’d better go before you knock. He’ll think it’s a joke after all if he sees me.”

  “Oh. ...Thank you.”

  “Yep.” The boy turned back the way they’d come, and Agna stood before the door, stranded. A lamp glowed through the curtains. She only had to knock. She could apologize for what she’d said, and be on her way. Just as soon as she knocked.

  It felt like a very long time before she knocked.

  Laris opened the door and froze. “Agna?” A flush rose into his cheeks as he stared.

  “May I come in?”

  “Um – oh. Yes, yes, sorry.” He let her pass in front of him into the house, and Agna slipped out of her shoes in the entryway. Laris closed the door and hung back. Agna was fairly sure that he should lead her in – she had no idea where to go – but she gave up on the finer points of protocol and stepped out of the entryway. She found herself in a tiny room, with an unlit fireplace on one side. The rest of the room was outfitted with some thick woven rugs and some chairs around a table. A stove and water pump formed a kitchen area in the far corner. Apart from a couple of doors into other rooms, that was all. It was too small for a family. Laris very likely lived here alone.

  “I – wait a minute.” Laris lifted a pair of chairs from the table over to the fireside and fussed over the teakettle on the stove. “Can I get you some tea?”

  There was no reason not to stay for a little while, and have some tea and a civilized talk. “Yes, thank you. – And some water, if you don’t mind.”

  “Yes. Sure.” He filled a cup from the pitcher on the side table and crossed the room to hand it to her. Agna tried very hard to ignore the jolt that shot through her body when their fingers brushed. Also, Laris didn’t let go. That made it more difficult. She couldn’t look him in the eye when she spoke, staring at their overlapping hands. She had meant to ask him how he could let himself be tricked into saying something so horrible, how he could possibly – and she could say none of that.

  “I’m sorry about what I said today. It was rude and unfair.”

  “Oh. Um.” He was quiet for the space of a few breaths, and the water’s surface quivered. “I forgive you. I just – I want you to know that I wasn’t teasing you.”

  Agna swallowed, and her throat ached. She tugged on the cup of water. Laris surrendered it at last. She drank it all before she could answer, and held the empty cup. “I believe you. I only...” Her grip tightened. She didn’t want to say it, not to him, not to anyone, even though they all obviously knew. “No one has ever said anything like that to me. I didn’t know what to think.”

  Laris made a small, sympathetic sound, not even a word. He pried the cup back from her and set it on the table, and before she could guess what he was doing, he had folded her into his arms.

  Agna fought the sudden rush of tears, hiccupping. Laris’s embrace tightened, and she felt his heartbeat racing against her forehead. She found the presence of mind to free her arms and hug him back. It felt awkward and strange and every nerve in her body was buzzing and she had never been this close to a boy before and she did not want to think about that.

  It couldn’t be impossible when she could feel his arms around her. His warmth and his solidity and all of his fumbling words were real. He was interested in her; it was not a trick. She allowed herself to remember that little flutter when she’d seen him come into the tent: yet another stranger, all long bones and faltering, polite words. She allowed herself to remember, to acknowledge, that surge of heat and panic when he’d asked her to come out with him to the bookseller’s. It wasn’t the first time she had felt it. Just the first time that anyone had cared.

  When the urge to cry passed, Agna wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Laris stepped back, his hands on her arms, as though he didn’t quite know what to do with them. Finally he remembered the teakettle and fled to tend to it.

  Agna clasped her hands behind her back and took a deep breath as she looked around the room. On the mantelpiece was a carved wooden box and a small vase with a couple of wildflowers in it – dayflower, they called it in this country, a common hedgerow plant with some efficacy against colds. Next to the fireplace, a small shelf was mounted into the wall. Its contents drew Agna closer. Laris began to sputter about the provenance of his collection as she squinted at the titles in the low light. Adventure novels, history, economics, and animal husbandry. The last seemed a little incongruous. Perhaps he worked on one of the farms outside town.

  “...whenever I have some money. And Wayron and Rock from the caravans will buy them back, so I only keep a few. My favorites, I guess.”

  They were all in Kaveran, and Agna had read one, Travels in Ysmar – one of Esirel’s favorites. This was a translation, of course.

  “Have you read The Wanderer?” she asked, turning to find him close behind her, looking at the shelves over her shoulder. She hadn’t heard him approach, and forgot how to form words for a moment. “It’s, um. It’s Nessinian. But it’s been translated into Kaveran, too.”

  “Oh, uh. Yes, a few years ago. But I’d borrowed it, and I had to give it back.” He retreated to the stove.

  “Just wondering. It’s one of my favorites. One of the books that I brought with me from home. I have it in Nessinian, though.”

  She heard him laying out cups and pouring the tea behind her. “I can only read Kaveran,” he admitted. “Hardly anyone around here speaks Nessinian except at the shrine. Lots of people who speak Yanweian and Alhara, that’s all.” He came back with a cup and saucer.

  “Thank you.” Agna breathed in the steam as the tea steeped. Laris took the other chair, gripping his own teacup as though he might drop it.

  “Um. So... did you learn Kaveran at the Academy?”

  “Yes. I knew I wanted to come here, so I learned as much as I could.” She stared into her cup, avoiding his eyes. He would think of it as courageous, or noble.

  But he didn’t congratulate her on her selflessness, or ask why she�
��d come. Worse than that. “I’m... I’m glad you came.”

  “To Kavera?” she blurted, and Laris laughed nervously.

  “Yeah, and – well, here, too. Thank you.”

  “Oh. ...You’re welcome. I’m glad I came here, too.”

  The conversation ran into a wall, and they sipped their tea. Agna thought about his lineup of books and her conjecture about his occupation. She wasn’t sure how to approach that. It might sound patronizing. She hoped that her curiosity was enough. “So,” she said. “What do you do for a living?”

  “I work for Artal at the Shoreline cattle ranch. I was apprenticed there, so I just stayed on.” He shrugged. “It’s all right. It’s a good living for someone my age. Next season I get to drive a herd to market in Vertal. If I’m any good at that, I might do some more drives too.”

  “Is that what you want to do? Traveling?”

  “Not all the time. Sometimes. A couple of drives a year, maybe. I don’t know that I’d want to travel all the time. I’d get homesick. And I’d like to—” He shut up suddenly, and focused on his tea.

  Agna let him take the escape route. “I didn’t expect to travel when I came here. It, well. It took some adjustment. A lot of the merchants wouldn’t have it any other way, though.”

  “Some people like it. It’s a personality thing.”

  “Right.”

  He sipped some tea. “I think I’d like to try it, that’s all. See some more of the country.”

  “Have you always lived in Laketon?” It was an obvious question, Agna thought after the fact. Laris seemed not to have noticed.

  “Yeah. My folks have an eighth share in the exchange, and they own a ranch up north a bit.” Part of that was incomprehensible to Agna, but she tried not to show it. “They’d hire me if I asked, but I wanted to get some more outside experience. Besides, I like living in town.”

  The entirety of Laketon, surrounding farms excepted, would fit in the space between Silver Road and the Academy. Agna couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Some travel would expand his horizons a bit.

  Laris was speaking more easily now. He had even stopped clutching his teacup for dear life. Sometimes when she looked he was already watching her talk, and he would look away, or set his teacup down only to pick it up later. Eventually he poured fresh cups. They made their way through the first pot of the tea and then the second.