by Victor Poole
"Magic," she said scornfully through the cloth in her mouth, cutting off the sleeve. She pushed the knife into the soft earth, and pulled a pre-threaded needle out of the inside of the shift. She put a few stitches into the bandage to hold it on, and then snapped the thread.
"Clean this," she said, holding out the knife. Delmar wiped the blade off, and gingerly put the weapon back into its casing on her back.
"Have you really killed people?" Delmar asked hesitantly. Ajalia got to her feet and started to walk again. Each step was another wrenching pain. Her bleeding arm felt like a stump of rushing heat.
"I told you I was a horrible person," Ajalia said. Every time she breathed, the air rushed loudly against her inner ear. "You didn't believe me," she said.
"Why did you scrape your arm like that?" he demanded. He sounded angry.
Ajalia didn't want to tell him about fainting. She didn't want to tell him about the time she had fainted on the road to the north, or about the time she had fainted, after the second brand had burned into her left arm.
"The skin was falling off anyway," she lied. "This will make it heal faster."
"No it won't," Delmar said. His face was growing red. "You're hiding things from me," he said accusingly.
"And you made my perfectly fine arms open up, and now I'm going to die of an infection," Ajalia replied calmly. She glared at Delmar. His lips pressed together. She started to feel the now-familiar weakness at the back of her knees. All the anger that had shored her up drained away; she felt exposed and alone. She felt like a child in the woods.
"Del," she said. "Del, I'm going to fall down again." The black mouth of dark energy was opening up behind her; she whimpered, and Delmar caught her up in his arms.
"It isn't that far," he said. He walked quickly through the trees and the undergrowth. Ajalia's body had gone cold and still; she had hated the shaking, but now she knew that the shaking was better than this. This feeling was like a cold, hard stone where her insides should be.
Ajalia tried to be interested in Delmar, and in the smell of his skin, but everywhere around her was fragmented, and rimmed with torment.
"I want to go back to yesterday," she said into Delmar's neck. "I want to fight about kissing," she said, "like yesterday."
"My hiding place is safe," Delmar told her. "We can fight about kissing as soon as we get there."
"Would you be mad," Ajalia asked slowly, her eyes jittering over the passing leaves, "if I went to sleep?" Sleeping, she told herself, was not fainting at all. Sleeping was a great thing; Ajalia told herself that she loved sleeping.
"You can go to sleep," Delmar said. "I'll take care of things."
"I miss you," Ajalia said.
"What does that mean?" Delmar asked. Ajalia could hear that he was smiling.
"I don't know," she said. "But I do."
"Go to sleep, little bird," Delmar said softly, and he started to sing to her in the old Slavithe.
"Are you singing to me?" Ajalia asked. Delmar's chin brushed against her forehead as he walked through the forest. The trees were getting closer together, taller, and wilder. Ajalia told herself that she ought to be paying closer attention to where they were going, so she could escape later. She told herself to watch for landmarks. She fell asleep to Delmar's low voice as he lifted her through the gap in a great forked tree, where the trunk split into two only a few inches above the ground, and the tree grew into two thick trunks that reached up into the dense foliage. The smell of growing things and strange ripe fruit was strong in the air. She did not see Delmar looking down at her, watching her as shadows of fear passed over her face in sleep, and she did not hear the quiet thrum in his voice as he sang to her.
When Ajalia woke up, she saw that Delmar was still there. He was sitting across from her in a dark, shallow hollow that seemed to be formed of an enormous tree root. He was holding the slim leather book in his hands, and examining the cover. The book was closed.
"Was I asleep?" Ajalia asked him. He looked up at her. His eyes were creased with worry. He nodded.
"Not for long," he told her. "I fixed that," he said, pointing towards her arm. Ajalia tried to lift her arm up; she was reclining against a wide scoop of tree root, and her head was thrown back on a wide ridge of bark. Her left arm was creating a tingling, burning sensation. Her arm lifted a little, and then dropped helplessly back into her lap.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't see what you did. I can't lift my head," she explained. "I'm really sorry."
"Are you all right now?" Delmar asked. Ajalia could see his hands clenching tightly over the book; his knuckles were white.
"Come here," Ajalia said.
"Are you going to die?" Delmar asked.
"I don't think so," Ajalia said wearily. "I never died so far."
"But you have fainted like this?" Delmar demanded. Ajalia said nothing. "When did this happen before?" he asked. "How often do you fall down?"
Ajalia rolled her head to the side so that she could see him better. She felt pricks of wet under her eyes, and she knew she had been crying.
"Please come here," she said.
"No," Delmar said. He looked terrified. "What is happening to you?" he asked.
"Well," Ajalia said, looking up again at the shadowed darkness of the canopy above their heads. "You said on the road to Talbos that you were going to move the pain out of my arms."
"Yes," Delmar said cautiously.
"I can't see you very well," Ajalia said. "Will you come here?"
Delmar shook his head.
"You scared me," he said. "I hurt you. What if I hurt you again?"
"Fine," Ajalia said. "Then I will stop talking."
"Don't stop," Delmar said quickly.
"Then come closer," Ajalia said. Delmar eyed her gingerly.
"Are you going to die?" he asked.
"I don't know," Ajalia sighed, closing her eyes. Delmar inched a little closer.
"I'm closer now," he said encouragingly. Ajalia laughed. She felt utterly hollow. The nausea was gone, and she was filled instead with sharp tingles of cramps that passed up and down her muscles. She felt as though she were being pinched with burning coals.
"What did you do to my arm?" Ajalia asked. "It feels strange," she added.
"I put some plants in there," Delmar said softly. "They help with blood." Ajalia felt the curious antiseptic burn under the cloth on her arm, and she sighed.
"Thank you," she said.
"And I cleaned up the wrapping," he added. "It wasn't very tight," he said apologetically.
"Delmar," she said. Her cheeks were beginning to flush; she felt tears moving into her eyes.
"What?" Delmar asked. His voice was a distant echo across the dark hollow.
"You said we could fight about kissing, after we got here," she said. "You promised."
Delmar edged closer to her.
"Have you fallen down like this in the past?" he asked warily.
"Not like this," she admitted.
"Then how?" he asked. He was closer to her now; she could see the dim light reflected in his eyes.
"Thank you," she said. "Now I can see you better."
"How?" he repeated urgently. Ajalia closed her eyes. The movement of her eyelids pressed tears out of her eyes, and the drops of water slid smoothly down her cheeks. She thought for a moment of her master in the East. She felt that she had let him down, abandoned him selfishly. An ache of self-loathing surged in her chest.
"Only twice," she said.
"You've only fallen down twice?" Delmar demanded. "When? When did you fall down? What was happening?"
Ajalia sighed.
"I really don't want to talk about it," she explained. "It's painful."
Delmar studied her face.
"Maybe talking would help," he said carefully. She let out her breath in a rush.
"Well," she said, "that, or I could faint again."
"Does talking about it make you faint?" Delmar asked nervously.
"I don't kno
w," Ajalia said. "I've never talked about it before."
"Oh," Delmar said. He scooted nearer to her, and put a hand gingerly on her temple. Ajalia sighed at his touch, and turned her face into his palm.
"I'm tired," she said. "I can't sleep, it feels like, until you touch me."
"That's sweet," Delmar said.
"Sweet?" Ajalia asked in surprise. "I would have thought you would hate it."
"I want to help," Delmar said. "I want you to be better."
"I didn't know I was sick," Ajalia said lightly.
"Oh," Delmar said. "I'm sorry that you're sick," he offered.
"Thanks," Ajalia said. "Me too," she added. They sat together in the great hollow of the tree, and Delmar moved his hand over Ajalia's cheek.
"What happened to you?" Delmar asked.
"What is this place?" Ajalia asked quickly. "Where are we?" Delmar's insistence was making a kind of earthquake of fear rumble in Ajalia's body; she had hidden all of the secrets down in a hole somewhere, and Delmar was poking and prodding, and she was sure that he would not stop. She thought that she would turn inside out if she took the dark things out of the deep hole.
"This is my hiding place," Delmar said. He looked pleased. He pointed at the boughs of the trees above them. "I found those trees," he said, "when I was little. I used to run away a lot," he explained, "and I would climb trees." He stared around at the edges of the hollow space. "No one in my family climbs trees," he said, "except for me."
Ajalia reached up her arms towards Delmar, or she tried to. Her left arm rolled a little where it lay, and her right arm rose up a few inches and stopped. Delmar was watching her face; he noticed the tears that gathered anew in Ajalia's eyes.
"What's the matter?" he asked. She snuffled, and laughed.
"I can't reach you," she explained, "and I feel stupid."
"Don't feel stupid," Delmar said. He picked up her right hand, and delicately touched the hideous scabs on her inner arm. "You look beautiful," he said.
"Um," Ajalia said, "I don't." Delmar pressed his lips quickly to her mouth, and pulled away.
"Yes you do," Delmar said. "Now tell me about fainting."
Ajalia closed her eyes. The smooth texture of his fingers made shivers of disgust roll over her flesh; the white scars on her arm were raised up. The edges were peeling away from her arm, and the thick scabs looked like an awful disease. When Delmar touched the scabs, Ajalia felt horrified by herself.
"You said on the road to Talbos," she said, "that you were going to move the pain out of my arms. I don't think you realized how much pain there was."
"Well, there were the big scars," Delmar said, frowning. "I just wanted to help with the scars."
"I guess I have scars that you can't see on the outside," Ajalia said. Delmar nodded earnestly.
"That makes sense," he admitted. "So when I put magic into your skin, it stirred up all the other stuff as well."
"I guess," Ajalia said. "I don't know if I'm going to get better, either. I don't know how to get better." She shifted restlessly against the dip in the bark; she wanted to move, but her whole body felt utterly empty, like an inanimate shell. She glanced at Delmar and watched his face.
"Maybe this is what I'm really like," she suggested. "Did you ever think of that?"
"No," Delmar admitted. "But I don't want you to be like this."
Ajalia laughed.
"You're selfish," she told him.
"I am not," he said. "You don't want to be like this, do you?"
"I'll be fine," Ajalia said, closing her eyes. "I just need the bleeding to stop." She neglected to mention the threatening whorl of destruction that was hovering just behind her consciousness; she could feel it there, looming over her, waiting for her to move again. She wanted Delmar never to know about that darkness. His eyes were too innocent and pure to know about such things. Ajalia wanted to protect him from the knowledge of her past. She was convinced that her knowledge of the evil made her a bad person. She thought that Delmar was useless, and stupid, but a good person. She didn't want to corrupt him.
"Do you come here a lot?" she asked, her eyes closed. The shadows of the leaves moved lazily over her face. The faint echo of birds filtered through the foliage that enclosed the large hollow.
"I bring my books here," Delmar said. He was still clasping the leather book. "I haven't opened this," he told her. "I said I wouldn't."
"You're sweet," Ajalia said. She reached out for the book and got her fingers around the edges. She couldn't lift it out of Delmar's hands. She let go of the book, and let her hand fall into Delmar's lap. He looked down at her.
"You aren't pretending," he said, "are you?"
Ajalia shook her head very slowly.
"No," she whispered. "I'm not."
"Well," Delmar said. "What are we going to do now?"
"You can go if you want," Ajalia said. "I just need to sit for a while."
"You look like you're going to die," Delmar said sharply. "You look very almost dead."
"Sorry," Ajalia said.
"I can't leave you here like this," Delmar said, his voice rising. "What kind of a person do you think I am?"
"Well," she said, "I don't know what's going to happen. I've never felt like this before, exactly."
"What about the other times?" he demanded. "Maybe there's a clue. What happened the last time you were like this?"
"I wasn't like this," Ajalia said. "It was different. Let's talk about something else."
Delmar glared at her with his mouth pursed up.
"No," he said finally. Ajalia closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. "I know you aren't sleeping," he said. "Tell me what happened."
"I got hurt," Ajalia lied. "I was scared. All the blood rushed to my head, and then I passed out."
Delmar watched her closely.
"Why were you scared?" he asked. Ajalia looked at him. Lying to him wasn't as satisfying as she had hoped it would be.
"That isn't what happened," she said. "I thought you would know I wasn't saying what really happened."
"Why would I think that?" Delmar demanded.
"You lie to me all the time," Ajalia said defensively.
"I do not," Delmar said hotly.
"What's the dead falcon?" she asked. Delmar's face closed off at once. Ajalia made a triumphant guffaw. "See?" she demanded.
"No!" Delmar said. "That's private."
"And me fainting isn't?" Ajalia asked. "I don't want to talk about it." Silence drew out between them like a bubble.
"I didn't know you would get sick like this," Delmar told her. "I thought the scars would just heal themselves up, you know, gradually."
"I've lost control of the caravan," Ajalia said moodily.
"Philas is doing that," Delmar said dismissively.
"I have people in Slavithe now," Ajalia said. She thought about standing up, and didn't. "I'm tired," she said.
"Why are you so sad?" Delmar asked. He put the book down in between them, and rolled onto his stomach. He propped his chin in his fists, and studied Ajalia's pale face. Her breathing was shallow and labored.
"I'm not sad," Ajalia said. Delmar leaned forward and laid his cheek against her cheek.
"You're very sad," he said.
"I don't feel very sad," she lied.
Delmar sighed, and pillowed his head on his arm.
"I guess you'll talk to me," he said, "if I wait long enough."
"Probably," Ajalia said, her heart thumping unpleasantly under her ribs. The silence grew in the air between them, and Ajalia's whole body began to throb with panic. She had thought that the panicked feelings had passed, and that she would feel weak now, not scared. The reality of what her body was doing began to settle into her mind; she realized, dimly, that she was going to be lying down for an exceedingly long time, and a crazy rush of fear slammed against the back of her eyes.
Blank terror trickled down her spine; she could feel a gentle vibration, a shivering of not-okayness rattling in the very ba
se of her elbows and her knees. She wanted Delmar to think she was fine; she wanted to hide how she felt.
With an effort, Ajalia drew a deeper breath, and made her ribs unclench. Strange feelings were chasing each other over her bones. Ajalia had no words to describe what her body was doing. All she knew was that a powerful force was ripping gradually through her being, lifting out emotions that she had not known she contained, and shaking those feelings out in a breeze of fear, so that they drifted over her like flakes of infectious snow.
She glanced to the side, at Delmar's face. Delmar was gazing out at the leaves and trees; he was chewing meditatively on his lower lip.
"Were you going to go back to the wall?" she asked. "To get that thing Leed was going to bring?" She held her breath, and forced her cheeks to remain smooth and calm. Sobs were threatening to burst out of her; she knew that if she started to cry, Delmar would never leave her. She needed to be alone. She could feel a sort of torrent, a flood of loud and violent blubbering that was spilling up against her barriers, and she could feel that she was going to give in to it. Just two minutes more, she told herself firmly. Just give me a moment, she pleaded with the tears, I'll get rid of him.
"I sent Leed to get your bag of things," Delmar said. "I didn't want them to get lost." Ajalia forced herself to breathe very slowly. She was moderating the trembling in her lips. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"I want you to go now," Ajalia said. She made herself look calmly at Delmar. "I feel stronger now," she said. "I think I'll be all right for a little while."
"I don't want to leave you," Delmar said.
"But I'm going to cry again some time," Ajalia said smoothly. "I don't want to be alone when I cry."
Delmar considered her.
"I guess that makes sense," he said slowly. "And you want me to go now?"
"I'm okay right now," she said reasonably. "I might not be okay later." She kept her eyes neutral, and her mouth relaxed. She smiled with a friendly, happy smile. "Thanks for helping me so much," she said.
Potent convulsions were unrolling in her gut; she was holding her breath, making the trembling hold still. She watched Delmar closely; he was thinking.
