Asha raised an eyebrow. “We must?”
Priya touched her friend’s arm. “We would be happy to stay here a short while to offer what help we can to your men,” she said in Hindi.
The bearded man looked a bit confused but seemed to interpret her words to indicate compliance, so he pointed to the left and led the two women through the camp past smoldering cook fires, rotting food swarming with flies, and dusty tents that blew open from time to time to reveal the dusty blankets lying on the rocky earth. Finally they came to a cluster of tents at the western edge of the camp where their guide pointed at the ground. “Here.” And he walked away.
Asha pressed her lips together for a moment. “Here?”
There were eight tents around the last fire pit and all of their entrances were curtained to hide the men within them. But from nearly all of the tents came the soft coughing and retching of many sick bodies.
Priya nodded. “Here.”
2
Asha entered the first tent unannounced and found four men lying on the ground trying to share a pair of tattered blankets. They were all coughing almost without pause, sometimes grunting softly into their closed lips and sometimes roaring with congested barks and shouts, to be followed by exhausted groans, gasping, and spitting. Small specks of blood dotted the ground and the side of the tent flaps.
Nudging Priya back, Asha unslung her shoulder bag and knelt by the head of the closest man. He rolled his eyes up to focus on her for a moment, murmured something unintelligible, and resumed his coughing fit.
“Is it contagious?” the nun asked.
Asha leaned down to listen to the man’s wet and ragged breaths. Then she peered at his lips and nostrils and the small black flecks of blood on the blanket. “No. I’ve seen this before with coal miners. It’s the dust. It’s in their lungs. They should be wearing masks when they work.”
“Is there anything you can do for them?”
The herbalist shook her head. “I can’t. Once the dust is in the lungs, there is no way to remove it. They’ll continue to cough like this for the rest of their lives.”
“So they will live?”
“Maybe. If they haven’t inhaled too much dust, then maybe.”
Priya exhaled slowly. “Are you certain there isn’t something you might try? There may not be a treatment for this dust-cough yet, but that doesn’t mean that one cannot be created.”
“No,” Asha said. “Maybe with enough time and enough materials and tools, I might be able to find a way to make them more comfortable. But this is not a new or exotic condition. It’s been studied for years. There’s nothing I can do for them now, not without better supplies.”
“I see.” Priya nodded. “Then we must go to the men in command and tell them about the masks and other precautions to safeguard the workers’ lives. Yes?”
Asha frowned. “They didn’t strike me as the sort of men who cared too much for their workers’ well-being. I think we should wait for evening and then leave when no one is watching.”
“No.” Priya stroked the long mongoose on her shoulder. “Someone must speak for these men. Someone must help them.”
“I wish I could, but I told you, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Then it falls to me. I will do something.”
Asha narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”
“Take me to the man in command.”
“I don’t think that would be wise.”
“I understand that. Take me. Please.”
She almost said something else, but Asha simply pressed her lips together, shook her head, and led her friend briskly back through the camp toward the wooden houses at the southern edge of the field. One of the grim foremen noticed the women coming and he stepped inside one of the houses only to emerge a moment later with the man in the green robe.
“Is this your camp?” Asha asked.
“I sent you to tend to the sick men,” he said.
“And I—”
Priya touched Asha’s arm and the herbalist fell silent. The nun said, “Sir, we have been to see your men. They suffer from an incurable cough caused by the dust from the digging. There is nothing we or anyone else can do for them.” Asha translated her words into Eranian.
The man sighed. “That’s what I feared. Well, if they cannot work, then we’ll get rid of them and find others to take their place.”
After Asha translated his reply, Priya said, “Sir, these men will need your help to return to their homes, but even then they may not be able to work to support themselves and their families. Surely a man of your wealth and resources will want to help care for them?”
The man in green smirked and shook his head. “The railroad must be completed on schedule. I have no time or money to waste on men who can no longer work.”
“Railroad?”
He pointed at the black beast lying on the steel rails. “The Trans-Eranian Railway runs for thousands of leagues across Ifrica and Eran. Soon it will reach the countries of the Far East as well, and our steam trains will race across half the world.”
“Why?” Priya asked.
The man blinked. “Why?”
“Yes, why? What is it for?”
“To travel! To trade! To cross the breadth of the empire in mere days instead of weeks.”
“But what is it you hope to find in Rajasthan and India? What is there in the east that you so lack in the west that you need this railroad to reach it so quickly?”
The man stared at her in silence, his eyes narrowed and brows thrust furiously together with a sea of wrinkles on his forehead.
“My friend and I are journeying into the west,” the nun continued. “I suppose we might reach distant places sooner using your railroad, but then we might miss all of the places along the way. All of the people. All of the sounds and tastes. And if we miss our own journey, then what was the purpose of the journey at all? We might as well stay at home if we wished to see and hear and learn nothing new.”
The man’s glare faded into weary annoyance. “Obviously, you don’t understand.”
Priya smiled. “If I did, I wouldn’t have asked the question. But we have wandered far from our original purpose here. The men. The men who are sick will not recover, and the men who are still working are in danger of becoming sick as well. What will you do about this?”
“What would you suggest?”
“Masks,” Asha interjected, not waiting for Priya to answer. “A heavy strip of cloth to cover the nose and mouth, and to be soaked in water at least once an hour to keep the dust out of their lungs.”
The man squinted a bit. “This will keep them healthy enough to work?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “All right. It’ll mean more water, which is precious right now. I suppose I’ll think about it.”
Before Asha could reply, a deep crackling sound echoed up from the earth beneath their feet, and then a single titanic boom shook the ground. A pale brown plume of dust erupted from the work site at the eastern end of the camp, and the workers came running out of the dirty cloud.
“Damn,” the man in green grimaced. “What now?”
3
Asha and Priya followed the man into the brown haze as the workers streamed past them covered in dirt and blood, coughing and limping and clinging to one another.
“What happened?” demanded the man in green. He grabbed one of the workers. “What happened in there?”
“The tunnel collapsed.” The worker coughed. “More than half of it.”
“Why?” The man in green shook him. “Why?”
“A vein.” The worker coughed again. “A vein of silver, I think.”
The man in green shoved the worker aside.
“I can treat the injured,” Asha said. She pointed to a cleared space on the south side of the railroad tracks. “Bring the injured men to me over there.”
The man in green nodded. “Fine. What do I call you, healer?”
“I am Asha of Kathmandu. And this is Priya of Ko
lkata. And you?”
The man frowned at her. “I am Master Sebek.”
Asha led Priya through the crowd of men and the cloud of dust, calling out that all the injured men should follow her. A small knot of limping and bloody workers began moving toward her, and soon she had them sitting or lying in rows while she assessed their injuries. Sprains. Broken arms. Broken legs. Concussions. Cracked ribs.
When she reached the last man in the last row, Asha turned to survey the crowd. “I thought there would be more. Many more.”
“If there are,” Priya said, “then they must still be in the tunnel.”
For two hours, Asha tore sheets into bandages and smashed tent poles into splints. Several young men volunteered to help hold the injured men still while Asha wrenched their bones back into place, and so for two hours the air was filled with sharp cries and screams as bodies were slowly put back together.
When she was finished, Asha left Priya to administer what meager pain killers she had brought in her bag and went in search of the man in green. She found Master Sebek near the mouth of the tunnel interrogating two of his foremen, two squinting men covered in dust and scrapes. She stopped a dozen paces away to wait for him.
“You’re certain it was gold?” Sebek asked.
The men nodded.
“How long? How long did you know about it? A minute? An hour?”
“Only a few minutes,” the thin foreman said. “A man ran up to me with the rock in his hand. I was trying to look at it by torch light when the first timber snapped.”
“The timber snapped.” Sebek turned the tall foreman. “The timber snapped, and now my tunnel is only half a tunnel, the gold is buried, and the railroad is falling behind schedule. Because the timber snapped.”
The tall foreman swallowed. “Yes sir.”
Master Sebek drew his short sword and pressed the tip against the tall foreman’s shirt. The cloth blackened and began to smoke, and the man shuddered, his face pouring with sweat.
Asha squinted at the distant sword. It was shining with a bright golden light. She glanced up at the sun, only to see it hidden at that moment behind a thick white cloud. And yet the sword shone brightly.
The tall foreman began to babble in Eranian so quickly that Asha could not tell what he was saying. She started forward again, and was about to call out to the men when Sebek’s hand leapt, the shining sword darting into and out of the tall foreman’s belly in the briefest instant. A trail of black smoke followed the foreman as he fell to the ground. Sebek sheathed his sword and the empty space between him and the thin foreman instantly dimmed into shadow.
Asha froze. She had seen how shallow the thrust had been, and even a deep cut to the stomach could sometimes take hours to kill a man, and yet… the man on the ground was not moving. He was not even breathing.
“How long?” Sebek asked. “How long to recover the tunnel and reach the gold again?”
“Five days,” the foreman said calmly.
“Get it done. And place the timbers closer together this time.”
“Yes sir.”
The man in green turned back toward his wooden houses but stopped when he saw Asha standing in the middle of the dusty field. “How are the men?”
“They’ll live,” she said softly, her eyes straying to the dead foreman. “Most will be able to work again in a few days or weeks.”
Sebek nodded.
“What about the other men? The ones still in the tunnel?”
Sebek shrugged. “They’re dead.”
“Are you certain?”
“If they aren’t dead now, they will be by the time we unearth them. Don’t concern yourself with them. Worry about the living. I want every man on his feet as soon as possible. If you succeed, you’ll be well paid.” He began to walk away.
“I don’t need money. I just want to reach the next town to the west.”
He paused. “Fair enough. You can ride the train back to Herat when it goes back for supplies in two days’ time.”
“Thank you.” Asha nodded, her eyes once again returning to the dead foreman. “But two days is not much time. What if I cannot return any of the men to work?”
He followed her gaze to the body on the ground. “Then you and they will be free to continue on your way through the barren mountains. On foot.”
“Is Herat very far from here?”
“Seventy leagues, at least.” And he left.
Asha waited for him to disappear inside one of the wooden houses before she went over and knelt by the dead foreman. Touching his shirt, she found the fabric around the cut brittle and charred. Lifting the cloth, she saw the seared skin around the very small wound. There was no blood on his skin, or his clothes, or the ground.
She left the body as she found it and returned to the side of the railroad tracks where her new patients were resting in the midday sun, which offered some meager warmth and relief from the cold winds whipping down the mountainsides.
There were thirty-seven men sitting or lying in three long rows before her, and she counted their injuries carefully. The first third of them could probably leave within the hour. The second third of them would be able to work by the end of the week. But the last third would need more time. Much more.
“Did you learn anything?” Priya asked.
Asha blinked. “We need to heal these men. All of them. And quickly.”
4
The next morning, Asha dismissed fifteen of her patients. Their scrapes were minor, their cuts clean, and their bruises superficial. All day long, Asha divided her time between inspecting the bandages and splints of the remaining men and searching the surrounding hillsides for native herbs and insects. When she was far enough from the camp where no one could see her, she swept her long black hair away from her right ear to listen.
Here in the cold highlands, her right ear had begun to ache a bit more than usual. The dragon’s venom stung from the fatty earlobe right into the firm cartilage, and out to the hardened skin that resembled the shining gold scales of the beast that had bitten her so long ago.
She closed her eyes. Her left ear heard only the mournful sighing of the wind, but her right ear heard the deep-throated chorus of souls moaning in unison in the valley below, a chorus of human souls, very male, very tired, and very unhappy. There were the nervous trills of horse-souls and the gleeful yipping of dog-souls. And echoing across the pale autumn sky came the proud shrieks of hawk-souls.
But where there should have been the demure hums and tinkling of trees and shrubs and grasses, there was only silence. Again and again, Asha turned and walked and listened, but everywhere that she went over the hard Afghan hills she found no green growing things in the earth.
After an hour’s wandering she came back down into the camp, passing a scowling young man with a whip who had apparently followed her to ensure she was not attempting to leave. Evening was falling as she sat down beside Priya among the injured men and began the tedious duty of checking each one’s wounds for signs of infection. When she was done, she joined Priya beside a small fire pit where an old dented kettle sat in the coals and a pinch of tea leaves waited in two chipped cups.
“Did you find anything?” the nun asked.
“No. Nothing.” Asha glanced across the remaining patients. “Judging from the tents, it looks as though there are only two hundred men here. And with no nearby towns to recruit new workers, I understand why Sebek wants them all back to work as soon as possible. But it can’t be done. Over twenty injured men here, and more than that lying in the sick camp over there.” She nodded toward the tents of the men who could not stop coughing. “And more will be falling ill soon. There must be something else I can do.”
“Why?”
“Because Sebek isn’t going to keep feeding men who can’t work.”
“If the sick men cannot be healed, then they cannot be healed,” Priya said. “If the workers cannot stop breathing in the dust, then they will fall sick. And these men cannot mend their bones faster th
an nature allows. These are facts. No amount of worry or fear or anger will change them.”
Asha stared at the kettle as it began to whistle. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
“What do you mean? Is there some way to make these men heal faster? Or perhaps we can make better splints so they can work before their bones are mended?” There was genuine curiosity and eagerness in the young nun’s voice.
“No.” Asha peered off into the darkness toward the western edge of the camp. “But maybe we can cure the men with the coughing sickness.”
“But you said that was impossible, didn’t you?”
“Did I?” Asha shrugged. “Well, maybe it was impossible yesterday. But if the wind can wear down a mountain, then I should be able to clean out a man’s lungs.” She stood up and brushed the dust from her sari. “I have to go see about some supplies.”
She crossed the camp to the wooden houses and knocked on the first door she came to. The same scowling young man from earlier opened the door but behind him Asha could see Sebek sitting at a desk by the light of a small oil lamp. The man in green glanced up. “Ah, yes. How are your patients, doctor?”
Asha grimaced. “Just Asha will be fine. Fifteen of your men will be back to work tomorrow. Another four or five may be fit enough by the end of the week. But that leaves about seventeen severe fractures that may take more than a month to heal.”
Sebek nodded. “I suspected as much. I’ll have them moved to the west end of the camp with the other cripples where they’ll be out of the way. It probably won’t do any good to tell them to leave since there’s no place to go. We’ll simply have to wait for nature to take its course.”
Asha curled her fingers into a fist. “None of your men are dying. The injured will heal in just a few weeks. You don’t need to do anything except feed them.”
“No, that food will be needed for the new men we’ll have to hire in Herat. Food is my primary operating expense right now. Everything is at a premium since it has to be imported from so far away.” Sebek sighed. “Even if I did feed the injured, the sick would probably get jealous of that lavish treatment.”
Chimera The Complete Duet Page 16
