“I accept that, if you mean it as an apology,” he said.
“I do.”
“Thank you, then.”
She rushed on, feeling as though this might be her only chance. “And your religion isn’t stupid. I said things – at the Resurrection festival. It was unfair. And cruel. I’m sorry.”
The medic took a long, slow breath. “Thank you for that,” he said, so quietly that Agna felt goosebumps shiver along her arms. She was a little flushed, and her joints felt too loose, as though she would fall if she tried to stand. What had she done? She couldn’t take any more surprises today.
“Do you hate me?” he asked, and Agna’s mind halted.
“What?”
“—I shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t have said that. Never mind.”
“No, I...” She remembered a blur of exasperation, mortification, and resentment. She remembered day after day when she thought she couldn’t take another night sleeping on the ground, using outhouses and outdoor baths, being kind to strangers even when she was tired and hungry and homesick. He had been there, disapproving, infuriatingly silent, another stranger – a stranger who wouldn’t leave. Everything she did was wrong to him, proving everything she’d ever feared about coming here, about being a healer, about being herself.
Agna held up her hands. “Two parts.” She flexed her left hand. “I hated being in Kavera. That wasn’t your fault.” And the right. “You’re... rude to me. Like you’re being forced to babysit and you hate me for it.” She laced her fingers together. “And I’m sorry about the first part.”
“I see.” He thought for a little while. “You are right. I didn’t expect to have a partner on this assignment, and I didn’t want one. But that’s not your fault.” A tense second passed before he compulsively stood and paced halfway to the water’s edge. From the angle of his arm, Agna guessed that he was touching the torque.
He didn’t face her as he went on, looking out over the lake. “And I’m... I’m not... a happy person, right now. Before I came to this country, I lost someone who – who meant the world to me.” His voice wavered, and he cleared his throat. His hand dropped. “It’s not an excuse. It’s one reason that I’m unhappy. I shouldn’t take it out on you.” He turned, watching a spot somewhere near her feet. “And maybe there’s a second part for me, too. The way you seem to – to think so little of me. Pointing out how I’m so far beneath you. I am, I know that, but some part of me resents it. It’s pride, that’s all.”
“You’re not beneath me – what are you talking about? Money?”
Agna could not understand the gesture he made with a frustrated turn of his hands – a sweep over her with one, a sweep over himself with the other. Everything? “You’re – you’re patrician. Foreign, I mean, but like a patrician. I don’t even have a name.” She didn’t understand the shame in his voice, either, even though the simple human fact of it made her throat clench.
“I’m not noble, if that’s what you mean. My family isn’t connected to the Families. We just have some money. And we’re known in the art world. But we aren’t politically powerful or anything like that.”
The medic sighed, touching his folded hands to his forehead. He took his seat beside her. “Still. You’ve seemed to take a lot of enjoyment in treating me like a servant.” Agna almost protested about how she couldn’t reach the clinic tent ceiling or lift as much as he could, but she held back. That wasn’t what he meant.
He wasn’t wrong. She had always needed to even the score. He was older and more experienced, the patients liked him more, and the other merchants liked him more. To keep herself afloat, she’d had to drag him down. She knew the name for that. “That’s... well, that’s pride, too. You’ve always known what to do when I didn’t know. Like camping, and budgeting. It embarrassed me. I thought I was showing you that you didn’t know everything. It was childish. But I never thought you were my servant. I...” She looked into her hands in her lap and closed them. His fault, her fault, chasing one another around and around.
They both had to change. He seemed willing to call a truce, and Agna was exhausted by the fighting. But she had to trust him, to trust that he wouldn’t retaliate if she stopped attacking. She had to risk being hurt in order to stop.
She decided and spoke. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re beneath me. And I don’t hate you.”
He made a strange sound, not quite a laugh. “Thank you. I don’t hate you, either.”
Agna’s first impulse was to call him a liar, but she clenched her teeth. She had to stick with this if she wanted it to work. He sounded sincere. And what did he have to gain from lying? But if he didn’t hate her, why did he act the way he did? She straightened her cramped fingers. “Explain to me, then.”
“Of course, if it will help.”
“You’re so nice to the patients, and to me you’re... cold.”
The medic let his breath go through his teeth. “That.” He considered his answer. “What I do in the clinic is – it’s not an act, not really. I care about them, and I want to help them. But I act that way even when I don’t want to. When I’m tired, or when all I can think about is how much I miss Kazi – my partner. Former partner,” he corrected. “Because you have to act a little for the patients. It’s part of the job. And outside the clinic, you see me when I’m... when I’m my real self. And my real self is usually unhappy. It’s not because of you. I see why you might see it that way.” He ran a hand through his hair and rested his chin on his hand, hunched over on the bench.
He seemed to know everything about living on the road and living in the world in general, but it wasn’t easy, not even for him. She hadn’t considered that he was just as tired and sore and dispirited as she was, sometimes.
The medic went on. “And... I didn’t trust you. Because I thought you saw me as scum.”
Agna focused on him, drawn out of her reinterpreted memories. “I don’t see you as scum. I never did.”
“I know that now.”
“Do you see me as an evil heathen?”
“...No. And I do want to learn more about your religion.”
“Well. ...I have to tell you, I’m not as religious as you think I am. My friend – my mentor was. Is. Compared to him, I’m not. It’s something I’ve studied, more than something I believe.”
“Still. I would like to learn about it, and about your culture.”
He couldn’t see her blush in the dark, and she didn’t know why it was rising. “I – thank you. I’d like to learn more about Yanwei, too.” Agna hesitated. This was the test. If she suggested a truce, he might laugh at her, and fire back some sour remark. It could all go drastically wrong. Or... “Can we start over?”
He did laugh, but it was a laugh of relief, not mockery. “Yes! I would love to start over.”
“All right.” Agna cleared her throat and turned on the bench to face him, pulling one knee up onto the stone. She made the Kaveran greeting gesture, feeling stupid and relieved. They introduced one another, by name, by title. Agna, healer. Keifon, medic.
They talked, slowly at first, about their medical training. She didn’t go into details about how she’d barely made second order in her graduation testing or garland it with her usual justifications about studying history and Kaveran. He asked her about how the healing art interwove with the Church’s teachings, figuring out how it differed from the healing art of the Tufarian priests in his homeland.
Following Agna’s clumsy questioning, he told her about his studies: three intensive years on top of his Army training. He began proudly, and he held the Army and his instructors in very high regard. But he seemed to waver off, set back by the fact that he had studied for so much less time than she had. Agna wanted to push him into the lake, or jump in herself. This wasn’t what she wanted, either. She didn’t want to buy her pride at the expense of his. Not anymore; that was the point.
“Well. A lot of people start as apprentices at the same age that I went to the Academy,” she offered.
“Besides, three years is almost as long as our practicum. And you’re so good with the patients. I think you have a gift for it.” Her heart was racing, she realized, and she shut herself up. This was stupid. She was talking far too much.
“Thank you. I...” He couldn’t finish the thought, and merely nodded. “Thank you.” His voice held no cynicism, no shame, and no hidden agendas. He was flattered and touched to hear praise from her, as though he cared about what she thought. It was confusing and terrifying, and part of her wished that he would say something vicious just to get back to a state that she understood. The rest of her caught his quiet happiness, one candle lit from another. It was worth acting like an idiot, after all.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Um — of course.”
“Are you going to stay in Laketon?”
“Why would I stay in Laketon?”
He hesitated, as though regretting having asked. “To be with Laris.”
“Oh. No, no. I’m not running out for rings already,” she laughed nervously.
Keifon squinted. “Rings?”
She stared at him for a moment – was he making fun of her, or being obtuse? – and then remembered. Of course. She tapped the base of her throat. “Oh – right. Back home we wear wedding rings, not necklaces.” She raised her hands and wiggled her middle fingers by way of illustration. Keifon’s face went blank. She rushed on, embarrassed by her weak joke. “But no, I’ll write Laris, that’s all. I wouldn’t forfeit on my contract. Besides... I don’t know.” She hiked her knee toward her chest, wrapping her arms around it. “I don’t think I would want to live in Laketon. I know that’s ungrateful.”
“Ungrateful?”
“Because he likes me. Anyway,” she went on, too tired to explain something that she barely understood herself. “I’ll write to him for a while, and then we’ll see.”
“That’s fair.” He thought for a minute, and she realized that the toe of her shoe was resting against his knee. It would be too obvious to move away, but – “Your friend is in Vertal, after all, isn’t he? You could be assigned there.”
Rone, she translated. “I... don’t think he’d like that. He keeps writing about how it’s good for me to be independent, things like that.” She rushed on, embarrassed. “Besides... I don’t know whether he’s staying. He could be back in Nessiny by the time I get to Vertal. His contract is over, so he can leave any time he wants to. Back home, or to Achusa, maybe. His boyfriend was on assignment there.”
“His – Oh. I thought... oh.”
She was blushing again, equal parts fury and embarrassment. “It’s not like that, all right? Besides. I always liked Bakari. He was smart and-and nice, and they were amazing together.” Bakari and Rone were memories that she didn’t need tonight. They had been the Academy’s Furoni champions, beautiful and devoted – she couldn’t think about that now. “Anyway. Someday I’ll go and visit them and their perfect kids and we’ll reminisce about school.”
“So you’re going back to Nessiny when your contract is up?”
“I was just speaking hypothetically. I don’t know what I’ll do. There’s a long time to think about that. Besides, there’s more need for healers in Kavera than in Nessiny.”
“That’s charitable of you.”
Agna shrugged. “The best use of my skills is to serve the greatest need.”
“The man at the shrine told me about that concept.” He took a deep breath. “I should have asked you. Instead of assuming.”
“Well. We’ve started over. Remember?” Keifon returned her smile, and her stomach felt very strange. She needed to straighten up, to move away, to get back on the road. She flailed her way to her feet. “Um. Do you mind if we get going? I’m getting tired.”
“Of course.”
He persisted in walking beside her on the way back. She was too tired to walk faster and stay ahead of him. They’d be on the road tomorrow. She could ask about his beliefs, since he had taken the effort of learning about the Balance church. Or she could ask about life in Yanwei, building on the things she’d learned in her history classes. She looked forward to the next time they set up the clinic, too. They could learn a lot from one another.
Keifon spoke up as they neared the edge of the camp. “You seem happy.”
“Heh. I guess I am. Or delirious.”
“Oh, young people in love. What’s the word I’m looking for. Obnoxious.” He was only teasing, and she still wanted to slug him.
“I wasn’t even thinking about Laris—” She realized what she’d just said and cut herself off. “Grr. You know, I could push you into the lake.”
“Not if you announce it in advance like that. No element of surprise.”
She couldn’t maintain the repartee, and let him have the last word. It had been a long day. She had spent all evening thinking about – difficult things. She needed a hot soak, preferably with an unchallenging book, and a long night’s sleep.
When they reached the tent, Keifon let her go in first. She lit the lantern and found her toiletry kit and towel and one of her books. In the bathhouse she soaked until she was so tired that she risked dropping her book in the water.
The lantern was burning when she returned. Keifon sat by his bedroll. He looked up as she entered, and his hands unfolded from one of the prayer positions.
Agna focused on her armload of clothes. “I drew a fresh bath and told them to hold it for you.”
“Mm. That would be nice. Thanks.” He rose from his bedroll and gathered some things from his pack. When he’d left she stowed the book at the bottom of her trunk, unpacked her bedroll, and changed clothes. She was half-asleep by the time Keifon returned. Having packed his clothes away and secured the tent flaps, Keifon lay down and blew out the lantern.
His voice was indistinct. “Agna. Hey.”
“Hm?”
“I’m glad we talked today.”
“So am I. Thank you.”
“Goodnight.”
“‘Night.”
He had been praying to Lundra when she’d come back to the tent. She’d recognized the position of his interwoven fingers. The walk had begun and ended in the same place, Agna thought. Lundra was the god of the bonds between people, and between humans and gods. Bonds of all types, Keifon had reminded her. Lundra was the personification of the shining moment of knocking on a near-stranger’s door, of a shared cup of tea, of a long talk by a lakeshore. Every one of them was divine.
Part 2
Agna: The Medics
The next morning, they took down the tents and loaded their luggage onto the passenger wagon. Despite the lack of conversation – limited, for the most part, to “can you take this?” and “thank you” – Agna found the experience to be freeing. She checked the habit of wondering what vicious thoughts brewed in his mind, or reading slights into his terse morning demeanor. They packed their belongings and went back on the road, and that was that.
Keifon fell asleep in his seat, and Agna watched the countryside, fanned herself with the Benevolent Union’s old logbook, and wondered how they might rebuild their operation. And, as they rolled by the vast cattle ranges outside Laketon, she wondered what Laris was doing.
A couple of hours later, Keifon woke, apologizing and struggling to pull his thoughts together.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I would like to talk about some things, but there’s no hurry.”
“Mmgh.” He drank some water from his canteen and wetted a handkerchief to wipe his face. Agna looked out past the other wagons. It was good that he could catch up on a little sleep, at least.
Eventually he was composed and coherent. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I was thinking about how we do things in the clinic. Not how you treat the patients – that’s fine. How we divide them up and work together.”
He nodded. “We don’t work together, you mean.”
“I think we could.”
“We could.”
“Well, here�
�s my thought. I think we should assess each of our strengths and match them to the patients’ needs. You’re great with calming people down, and with diagnosis. I can knit bones and close cuts, all of that. Each of us has our specialties, so we can trade off when the patient needs it. What do you think?”
Keifon considered this for a minute. “Those are all good points. A-and thank you.”
Agna raced on, unsure why he was thanking her, and unnerved by the prospect. “What do you think your specialties are?”
Slowly at first, as though he expected an argument, he told her. She silenced the urge to pipe up about approaches that the Academy no longer used or skills that she thought were better listed under her own specialties. They were having a real, constructive conversation about a topic that was central to their presence in Kavera and their mission for the Benevolent Union. She could defend the honor of the Academy later. Or perhaps never. She was no longer convinced that it was of primary importance.
When he was finished, Agna told him what she could do. She kept the commentary to a minimum, as he had, describing the procedures without trying to prove any points. He asked about how she accomplished some of the techniques, how the healing skill worked in this situation or that – and before she knew it, Masa, the food vendor, had pulled alongside the wagon. Agna bought lunch for both of them, and resumed the discussion as they ate.
His questions and comments had raised some questions of her own, so Agna asked him about his training with the Army – how they addressed this condition or that problem. At some point, he pulled out his medical reference book and found some passages that he said he would translate for her later. Agna promised, in return, to translate anything in Blackhall’s Human Anatomy and the Workings Thereof.
When Masa and his apprentice came around for dinner, Keifon paid, and shushed her protests. “Please. I would like to start off better, and that includes not forcing me into debt, if you would.”
“It’s not real debt; it’s not as though you’re buying a homestead. Come on.”
The Healers' Road Page 18
