Forever

by Pati Nagle

  Honor the ældar and spirits who watch over all.

  Most of it seemed idealistic and a bit unreal. I was reading about an alien culture, I reminded myself.

  One line really caught me, though:

  Find your way back, when you falter, and seek to atone.

  I sat staring at that, a hollow feeling in my heart. Had I screwed up irreparably? If I found a way to atone, would Lomen forgive me?

  This was their code of ethics. My culture didn't have much of one, compared with this.

  “What do you do about atonement?” I asked Len.

  “We're not required to atone. We're not ælven.”

  “Not even as a member of the clan?”

  She grimaced slightly. “I've offered atonement a couple of times. Caeran insists I'm not obligated, but it does seem to make them more comfortable. They feel responsible for my actions, having accepted me into the clan. So it's kind of a grey area.”

  “Have you ever offered atonement to Caeran?”

  “I've never needed to. It's not that bad, is it?”

  “I don't know.” I put the pages down and drank some tea.

  A big part of the problem was that I was ignorant. I could have mortally offended Lomen without realizing it.

  We needed to talk.

  Len went back to the kitchen. After a couple of minutes, I followed. She gave me some cheese to grate, then lettuce and tomatoes to chop while she assembled a pan of rolled enchiladas. By the time she put that in the oven my stomach was grumbling.

  I wandered out to the living room where the ælven were talking in their own language. Waited a while trying to catch Lomen's eye, but he ignored me. Finally I gave up and went back to his room.

  I sat at the desk with my genetics text and stared at the screen, not seeing the words. Lomen was going to go out hunting again, without saying a word to me. Without giving me a chance to atone.

  He could be killed.

  Not likely, I told myself, but still it was possible. The alben were murderers—multiple murderers. They did not acknowledge human law, true—but neither did they acknowledge the ælven creed. They were outlaws in either culture.

  A soft knock at the door made me look up, heart leaping with hope. Len stuck her head in.

  “Did you want to keep this?” She held out the copy of her translation.

  I swallowed disappointment and came to take it from her. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Dinner's ready.”

  I stuffed the creed into my pack and followed her to the dining room. The four ælven had already served themselves and were sitting around the dining table. Len and I took our plates to the living room.

  Len turned on the TV. Caeran looked up, but she just gave him a flat stare and he went back to his conversation.

  Poppy was the top story on the news. They had cropped the picture of her to just show her head, but that brought the whole image back to me. I wondered who had snapped it and posted it, and whether they were in jail now.

  The story had no content. UNM student found murdered. We all knew that.

  I couldn't eat more than a few bites of my dinner, though it was excellent. I took my plate to the kitchen, covered it with plastic, and stuck it in the fridge. I'd try again later, maybe.

  I tidied up the kitchen, rinsing dishes and sticking them in the washer, putting away the leftover enchilada sauce and scrubbing the pot. Wiped down the stove and the counters. Filled the kettle and started it heating for tea.

  Nothing left to do.

  I heard the scrape of chairs from the dining nook. Busied myself wiping down the sink, but they didn't come in. Instead, I heard them saying goodbye to Len.

  I stepped into the living room in time to see Lomen go into the garage. He didn't look back.

  Bironan sat on the couch, frowning at the TV which was still on, playing a game show now. He glanced at me.

  I headed for the bathroom. Washed my face and brushed my teeth. I knew I wouldn't be able to study, so I went back to the living room and sat in Manda's chair, staring stupidly at the TV.

  Had the other three gone to Manda's to get Savhoran, or were they going against the alben alone? Three against two—not great odds, from what they'd told me. Not enough for control.

  The night outside darkened until I couldn't see the front yard for the brightness of the porch light. Bironan picked up a magazine and flipped through it, ignoring the TV and me both. Len was in the kitchen doing the rest of the dishes.

  I heard a noise outside that made me stare at the window. Bironan heard it too—he looked, then jumped up from the couch and retreated to the back of the room.

  The front curtains were open, and through the picture window I saw a white-haired figure stagger up the path, heading for the door. Pirian.

  “Len!” I called, even as two heavy thumps fell on the front door, followed by a more muffled thump. I went to open it.

  Pirian stared at me dully, then sank to his knees in the doorway. He would have pitched onto his face if I hadn't caught him. His coat was wet.

  Wet with blood.

  = 12 =

  I looked over my shoulder at Bironan. “Help me!”

  The ælven shook his head, white-faced. “I dare not—his blood is a danger to me—”

  The curse. Fucking hell.

  “Just get some blankets out of that chest and put them on the floor.” I jerked my head toward the cedar chest under the window where Manda stashed her bedding during the day.

  Len appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, already on the phone. I dragged Pirian through the front door and kicked it shut.

  Bironan spread a cheap Mexican blanket on the living room floor and laid a sheet over it, then retreated again, backing away as I edged Pirian toward the bedding. Len hung up and came to help me.

  “Get his feet. Can you lift them?”

  She did. “Caeran and the others are coming. He's going to call Savhoran.”

  I heard the back door slam. Bironan, escaping the mess.

  Len glanced that way. “Can't blame him.”

  “No. A little farther—OK, set him down.”

  My arms ached from manhandling Pirian's dead weight. Blood from his clothes started seeping into the bedding.

  “I'll get some bandages,” Len said.

  “I'll get water.”

  “Not from the kitchen! Let's just use the front bathroom. Keep it as contained as possible.”

  “Jesus.”

  She was right. For the ælven, this was like having an AIDS patient bleed all over your house. No wonder Bironan ran.

  I was covered in blood. I couldn’t get the curse, I told myself, but it was hard to believe it when I was bathed in contamination.

  My heart was beating hard. I kicked off my shoes and followed Len to the front bathroom. She turned on the water in the sink and I rinsed off the worst of the gore. My clothes were a mess, though.

  Len was ransacking the cupboards. She handed me a towel and I rubbed my arms down with it, then took it out to the living room.

  Pirian was out cold. I looked for a wound but didn't see one. His jacket and the shirt he had on underneath it were soaked. The blood seemed to be coming from everywhere.

  I stuffed the towel along one side of his torso and went back for another one. Grabbed one off the rack without touching anything else in the bathroom. Len had an armful of first aid stuff and followed me back out with it.

  “Spirits!” she said as she dropped the bandages on Manda's chair. “What happened to him?”

  “I don't know. He passed out right after I opened the door.”

  “Get his shirt off. We've got to stop the bleeding.”

  I wrestled him out of his jacket, which was no easy task. I lifted his shoulders with one arm and pulled up his shirt with the other hand.

  Len gasped.

  His chest was a mass of cuts. While I was struggling to remove his shirt, Len ran back to the bathroom and returned with a stack of towels. She laid one over Pirian's chest. Blood
started seeping into it at once.

  She reached toward the towel.

  “No, let me,” I said, grabbing two more towels to stuff along his sides. “I'm already a mess.”

  “OK, yeah. Put some pressure on it. See if you can stop the bleeding. He's still breathing, right?”

  “Barely.”

  With both hands, I pressed the towel down between his armpits. From what I could tell, the cuts started there and continued down his chest. After about thirty seconds I moved lower, putting pressure on the next few inches.

  Len was busy unwrapping a roll of gauze, softly cussing to herself.

  I had a few seconds to think about what might have happened, and I didn't like what I came up with.

  I worked my way down Pirian's chest and returned to the top. The bleeding might have slowed a bit. I kept pressing on the towel until Len came and knelt beside me.

  “OK, lift it. Gently.”

  I carefully pulled the towel away. Blood started seeping again here and there, but more slowly than before.

  “Sweet spirits!” Len whispered.

  I swallowed. “It's ælven, isn't it?”

  She nodded, then started cutting strips of gauze and laying them over the lines of curved and swooping letters that were slowly oozing blood. I gently pressed the gauze down.

  “What does it say?”

  She shook her head, lips pressed together and tears starting in her eyes. We kept working, adding a second layer of gauze while the blood reddened the first.

  The front door opened. I looked over my shoulder and saw Lomen, eyes wide, coming toward me.

  “Steven!”

  My heart lurched with fear.

  “Stay back! Don't touch me!”

  I'd shouted louder than I'd meant to. Lomen froze.

  “It's not my blood,” I added, my voice shaking. “It's Pirian's!”

  Caeran stepped up behind him. “Come away.”

  “Bironan's in the back yard,” I said.

  Caeran nodded, then took Lomen's arm and drew him back, gently closing the front door between us.

  “I'll be right back,” Len said, getting up. “Keep going.”

  She'd added a third layer of the gauze. I gently pressed it down, feeling the blood rise up against my fingers. Something very sharp must have made those graceful cuts.

  I heard Len banging around in the bathroom again. She came back with a box of thick gauze pads, four inches square, individually wrapped. She dumped the packages on the floor and started ripping them open.

  “Pull it down,” she told me when she had three of the pads in her hand.

  I folded down the saturated gauze from the top part of Pirian's chest. She laid the pads over the exposed cuts and taped the top edge down with first aid tape, then opened three more pads. I folded down the gauze again and she added the new row, taping its top edge to the first.

  She gestured for me to move the towels away from Pirian's sides. I did, and we saw that the cuts didn't extend around there, so she was able to tape down the bandage on both sides. We continued working down Pirian's chest until we reached the waistband of his pants. The cuts continued below it.

  I looked up at Len. She nodded, grimacing. I undid Pirian's pants and pulled them down.

  The cuts extended almost down to his groin. I was silently grateful they went no farther.

  I wiped up the worst of the blood with a towel, draping another over his loins for Len's sake. If she noticed the gesture to modesty she didn't acknowledge it. She was all business, taping the last of the gauze pads over the lowest cuts, then putting a hand on Pirian's brow and peering at his face.

  “He's cold. Can you—no, you need to clean up. I'll get him a blanket and make some tea.”

  I looked at the heap of bloody towels we'd amassed. “Should I wash these?”

  “Yeah, but you'd better shower first. Then we'll work on cleaning up.”

  “How thorough do we have to be?”

  “I have no idea. Better to be safe than sorry, though.”

  She scrubbed her hands and forearms down in the bathroom, then turned it over to me. I stripped off my bloodstained clothes and left them in a pile not touching anything else, then got in the shower and scrubbed every inch of myself, twice. I kept thinking of Lomen as I bathed, of the look of horror on his face, and of Bironan's terror of contact with Pirian's blood.

  How bad was it? Could I now be a “carrier” of the curse? Would it be unsafe for an ælven to touch me?

  It couldn't be that bad. Caeran and the others had no problem being around Manda, sharing meals with her and so on. But maybe she'd never been in contact with infected blood.

  I needed to know more. As usual.

  I dried myself, wrapped a towel around my waist, and padded down the hall to Lomen's room, being careful not to step on any bloodstains. Put on shorts and a t-shirt and returned to the living room.

  Pirian looked like crap. His usual pallor was rosy by comparison to his current hue. I checked to make sure he was breathing, then poked my head in the kitchen.

  “Should I wash the towels and stuff?”

  “Yeah,” Len said. “Put in some bleach.”

  I laid out the least gory towel on the floor and started piling the others on top of it. Added Pirian's clothes, and then mine. The bleach might ruin them, but oh well. Clothes were replaceable.

  I heard the Lexus start up in the garage. Len came in with a mug in her hand.

  “They leaving?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Caeran's taking them up to Madóran's place. He'll bring Madóran back. This is more than I can handle.”

  I swallowed dismay. I needed to talk to Lomen, and he was leaving.

  I carried the bundle to the laundry room, hoping to get a glimpse of Lomen, but the car had already pulled out. Depressed, I stuffed everything into the washer and started it going. Went back to the bathroom to wash my hands yet again.

  I heard the front door close, voices in the living room. Manda and Savhoran had arrived. As I came out, Manda was pushing the coffee table away from the couch. She got a sheet out of the chest and spread it over the leather.

  Savhoran turned to me. “Help me carry him.”

  I started to protest, then my brain caught up. Savhoran had nothing to lose. Gratitude and relief filled me.

  I lifted Pirian's shoulders while Savhoran took his legs. We got him onto the couch, and Len covered him with a blanket, then propped him up with a couple of cushions. She held the tea mug to his lips. He frowned and mumbled something, but didn't drink.

  Savhoran came and sat in Manda's chair, laid a hand on Pirian's shoulder.

  “Pirian,” he said softly, and continued in ælven. The words were beautiful to listen to. I decided I had to learn this language.

  Pirian's eyes shot open and he took a gasping breath. He grabbed Savhoran's hand.

  Savhoran gave a grunt, then pulled away. Pirian had a death grip on his wrist.

  Manda made a little sound of dismay and started toward them.

  “No!” Savhoran said, flinging his free hand out toward her. He stood up, wrenched his arm away from Pirian, and stumbled backward.

  I caught him, steering him away from the bloody bedding still on the floor. We ended up against a wall, Savhoran gasping for breath. Manda came and wrapped herself around him.

  “What happened?” Len said.

  “Khi,” Savhoran said. He gulped, then took a deep breath. “Pirian needs khi. The alben fed on his. He just tried to take mine.”

  “No one touch him,” Len said sharply, looking from me to Manda.

  “Oh, no problem,” Manda said, shooting Pirian a dark look.

  “I should be able to control him,” said Savhoran. “He is very weak. He just caught me off guard. If the three of you form a circle, we can feed him khi without risking him harming any of us.”

  Len looked at me. I would have liked nothing better than to bow out. Pirian had abandoned the clan, or so it seemed, by not showing up when he was e
xpected. And he still gave me the creeps.

  But Savhoran had spoken to him with compassion. And he'd suffered—I didn't want to think about how he'd suffered, how he must still be suffering. If the clan wanted to help him, I had to support that.

  “I'm in,” I said. “But I don't know what to do.”

  “We'll show you.” Len turned to Manda. “You don't have to.”

  Manda grimaced. “No, I'll help.”

  We brought some chairs from the dining nook and arranged them near Manda's chair. Savhoran sat there while the three of us made a little circle holding hands, with Manda in the middle. Len put one hand on Savhoran's shoulder and indicated I should do the same. Savhoran closed his eyes and spoke in ælven. Some kind of prayer, I figured.

  He held a hand over Pirian's forehead without touching it. My hands got hot, holding Manda's hand and on Savhoran's shoulder. Pirian moved restlessly, then subsided.

  We sat there a long time. I felt like we were floating. I thought about Lomen, wondering when I'd see him again.

  When. Not if.

  Len started humming softly. I didn't recognize the tune, but it gave me something to focus on. It was peaceful, sitting there, drifting. I closed my eyes and listened and tried not to think about anything.

  Finally she stopped humming, and I felt Savhoran straighten. We dropped hands.

  “I think that is enough for now,” Savhoran said. He sounded weary.

  I felt lightheaded and a little dizzy. I stretched my back and wiggled stiff shoulders. Savhoran got up and went into the kitchen with Manda.

  Len sat in Manda's chair and held a hand in the air over Pirian's forehead, as Savhoran had done. She frowned and leaned back.

  “Well, I don't think he'll die immediately. He's still terribly weak.”

  “Loss of blood?”

  “More the loss of khi. She really did a number on him. It's amazing that he managed to get here.”

  She. The alben female. No question that it was the same one, then.

  Why hadn't she killed him? Because he was ælven, sort of? Had she let him go, or had he escaped?

  Len joined the others in the kitchen. I moved the first load of laundry to the dryer and started a second—the bedding that had been on the floor, and a couple of stray towels. Washed my hands again, then went to work on the floor and the bathroom.