I held a hand out to him and croaked through my laughter. “It was a dream. Just a dream.”
He came to me hesitantly and took my hand, sitting on the edge of the platform. I grabbed him to me, held him like I used to trap Mama’s head when she came to say goodnight and I didn’t want her to leave. “I dreamt that you didn’t exist. I dreamt that I was back there.”
He let me squeeze him for as long as I needed. He set the minni down on the edge of the platform and slipped his fingers up into my hair to hold my head in his palm. And it slowly came back to me, that though he did exist, he wasn’t my lover. He was holding me because I was a friend and I was frightened and nothing more. And my desperate clinging turned to despairing tears, my arms lost their strength and slipped from his back to hang at my sides, yet still he held me. He held me until my tears subsided into sighs and I pulled away, unable to look him in the eyes.
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for your concern.” And I turned away, lay back down in my pillows, and slept.
We spent a week in Sapproach, eight sunrises. Four days after his birthday festival, we left for the Dormounts. Back to our great hike. We had gotten a break from each other in Sapproach. He spent his time alternately planning and delaying the last leg of the journey and I found ways to avoid him. I was afraid that he was thinking of convincing me to stay in Sapproach and I was having none of that, so I didn’t give him any chance to bring it up. And when departure day arrived, I was in the caravan.
A crowd had joined us for the journey to the river and we halted early and set up camp not two hours from the river. A man named Kemberling saw me comfortably settled before arranging the evening party around my position. Toss shooed him from my side, however, and he and Krt arranged their seats by me. The evening was no quiet evening of storytelling around the campfire. We had a literal bonfire going before Kemberling was satisfied. And he browbeat almost everyone into performing in the little variety show he emceed. When Kem handed me my guiert I played Geoffrey’s favorite song from our days in America, Caldonia. Kem loved it and made me teach everyone the words. Geoffrey paid little attention.
Geoffrey spent most of the night sitting apart, caught up in his own thoughts. He left the entertainment early, not that I stayed much longer after Caldonia either. My endurance is for shit these days and I had rejoiced when we stopped early, my legs were so sore. I was tempted to sleep right where Kem had arranged me, because it is so difficult to get comfortable at night, but I knew that someone would eventually wake me up to go to sleep, thinking I would be more comfortable in a tent.
I shared one with Shelagh, the local woman who wanted to learn healing. Geoffrey had given her his marker to present to the teaching healer in Voferen Kahago and she was planning to make the journey with a few others Geoffrey had been consulting in private. Most of the caravan, in fact, was planning to split with us at the river and begin their journey eastward.
But no one got to go as far as the river with us. In the morning, after we broke camp, Geoffrey announced that we would part ways now instead of further on. He would continue the journey with no one but me. Our companions complained and pleaded with him to let the group continue to the river’s edge, but I knew they’d lose their case. And most of them knew it as well. I said goodbye to my newest friends and hugged Toss and Krt. Toss laughed at me, knowing how I had feared Geoffrey would leave me behind. And he warned me to take care of myself. He said that Geoffrey would have more concern for my safety than for his own and he could be sure that as long as I was safe, Geoffrey would be well.
Krt took me aside and gave me a rare piece of grave advice, “He is important to us, and you are important to him. Use whatever means you must to make him face the dangers reasonably.”
Kem spoke privately with Geoffrey as Shelagh and the others helped me to separate our supplies from the rest of the caravan. I watched her take supplies from her pile and add them to ours, thinking of some new thing we would need every few minutes and adding it to our sacs, piled on top of the wheeled platform that would become a part of our raft at the river. She stole raincloaks from a young animal trainer and her bond, borrowed fire-supplies from the boy who’d danced a clog on the raft the night before, snitched food and pans from the caravan returning to Sapproach, convinced Krt to hand over three knives and a bolo, and stuck her own pencils and paper in with my journal. When Kem called her over to his conference with Geoffrey, I returned all of these things, lightening our load by half.
We set off to a cheer, the only addition to our load several leather tarpaulins given to Geoffrey as a birthday present—whenever his birthday might be—and the paper that I'm writing on which Shelagh insisted I take.
By the time we reached the river, the weather had turned against us. The river was a wild, rushing mess of swirling whirlpools and tree bits. The sky was getting ready to spit at us and the wind bit into my face and hands. We set up a camp and I rested while Geoffrey pretended that the weather would improve and set about putting together our state-of-the-art jerry-rigged raft system in the middle of a raging storm. After I took the wheels off and propped the raft/transport platform up on its side as a shield from the wind and shortly the rain, I sat near my little fire and watched Geoffrey. I thought about all the warnings and orders I’d been given to keep him safe and wondered how in the hell I was going to keep this little fool from killing himself before we even got to the dragon. When he got back to my side of the river, I tried to subtly use my exhaustion, my frail condition, to keep him from crossing the river instantly. I made a fuss over his filthy, soaking, cold, banged up condition and pointed out every evil portent in the weather. And it worked. He took the tea, allowed me to undress him and settle him into a comfortable resting place in the shelter.
But then we saw them. A stroke of lightning set the plains on fire and we broke camp and leaped for the river. The fire was not near us, relatively. And lightning is not generally the kind of event that propels one into the water. But we saw, limned by the lightning, five figures running towards us. I don’t know how they found us or why they could see us when we were blinded by the black clouds and dusty wind. I don’t know how we knew it was Arinaud and his boys. But we knew. And almost too late.
Geoffrey grabbed a pile of our stuff and ran to the suspended hammock. I dumped the rest of our things, and dragged the raft to the riverbank. I looked back and saw our little fire glowing fiercely through the storm and cursed it.
Something hit the raft before I dropped it to the ground to run back and throw dirt onto our fire. Then the storm broke from the dark clouds and rain battered down, putting the fire out instantly and obscuring vision even more. I grabbed Geoffrey’s sac from the small pile of things he hadn’t thrown into the hammock and threw my arms into the straps, hoisting the overloaded bag to my back, knowing that we would need the healing supplies he kept in it. I heard a cry and followed it back to the river. I couldn’t see Geoffrey on the rope, but I saw the two clip lines that he had hooked to the western pillar earlier, still tied off on this side.
One of them was dangling down, obviously no longer attached, but the other was whipping in the wind, firmly hanging on to its moorings. I grabbed that one and was clipping it to the side of Geoffrey’s backsac in case I fell in when I saw him hit the rushing river. The muddy water buffeted him about like just another bit of debris. I saw a branch, almost a tree itself, headed downstream at him and knew he’d never see it in time, so I jumped into the mess thinking as I did how disappointed Toss and Krt would be in me.
When I leapt from the bank, I felt a great push as an arrow thudded into Geoffrey’s overloaded pack. The push sent me spinning forward and I saw the river coming at my face and stomach. I used the trajectory and spun myself further so that my back somehow took the brunt of impact. I was sucked under the water and a hundred fish and rocks and sticks slammed into me. I curled up around my stomach and unsuccessfully tried to find which way was up. My eyes instinctively shut, but I forced myself to o
pen them to see if I could find Geoffrey.
He was right in front of me and sinking fast, attached to the tree that had hit him. I grabbed wildly, unable to keep my eyes open in the mud-swirled mess, and I hit the tree. I felt it sink faster and despaired as a sudden buoyancy pulled me up to the surface. But when I came up, gasping for air, I saw Geoffrey surface not far from me. I kicked out to reach him and we raced down the river in sync, him just an arms length too far ahead of me. I pushed debris aside with one hand and reached for him with the other and I felt his long hair brush my straining fingers just as he hit a rock or something that slowed him enough for me to grab a substantial handful. I pulled and the distance closed. And the pain woke him back to consciousness.
He reached up and hit at my arm, instinctively trying to free himself. I screamed at him and held tighter, searching to see what dangers lay beyond him, rushing blindly at us.
“GEOFFREY!!!”
He looked. He turned and saw me and grabbed for my wrist. But as I felt his flesh touch mine in a conscious effort, I was ripped from him. Fire shot through me and I stopped rushing forward. The clip rope, tangled around my leg, had reached its limit. His hair was ripped from my grasp and my hand went numb with pain.
For a split second I saw Geoffrey rushing away from me, his arm reaching out, fingers straining to regain their lost purchase. I saw the falls beyond him and the boulders between Geoffrey and the falls. And I saw the long chain Girard had given Geoffrey for his birthday had come untwisted from about his wrist and was flailing in the water, within my reach. I slipped my hand into the loop and twisted. Geoffrey’s body jerked to a stop. Blood spurted from his wrist and mine.
The chain held. My leg went numb and blood rushed through my ears drowning out the rage of the stormy water. We were buffeted by debris and slammed into the rocky bank. But the chain held.
He stretched out his fingers and if I could have moved mine, we would have touched. But I couldn’t move them. My body was being stretched by the rope caught up around my leg at one end, and Geoffrey’s weight pulling against the chain at my wrist. I looked into his eyes, numbing to everything else. My vision tunneled until I could only see his face. I’ve caught him, I thought. I’ve saved him. I was little more than the rope now. A pulsing rope, my whole body pulsing like a big vein. As the blackness washed up over me, I smiled at him. Then the muscles in my neck failed and my face fell to the water.
Sixteen
∞ Edling Geoffrey of Kaveg’s journal ∞
October
Denver, CO America
Kelly remains a mystery. Nanda is off someplace with Faite studying at the Philly Cheesesteak Workshop so Kelly and I have the apartment to ourselves. The Terror has brought home a project for school involving leaves and a great deal of glue. Glue is an adhesive. It is currently adhering leaves to much of the floor and walls in the front room. I’m betting that it's a bad idea, but Kelly thinks it's pretty and has convinced me that we can easily wash it all off before Nanda gets home on Monday morning.
Helping with Kelly’s homework is extremely educational. Kel doesn’t need any help. She knows everything and the busywork bores her. But I found the ‘days of the week’ worksheet quite instructive. And I am apparently a very funny guy. Both Kelly and Nanda laughed when I asked Kelly to name the eighth day of the week.
Geography is not covered in kindergarten. But Kelly loves to pull out the atlas. Kaveg is not on any of the maps I’ve seen. She woke me up this morning to tell me all about Australia. Faite took her there when she was ‘much younger’ and they met her aunt and her uncle the carpenter. That means woodworker. It’s all in a book called the Dictionary.
“I didn’t know you had other relatives.”
“My mother’s sister.”
“Then why are you with Faite?”
She shrugged, “He’s better for me.”
I chuckled and sank back into the pillow. “That’s what my guardian used to say.”
“Your guardian wouldn’t let you stay with your aunt?”
“My Aunt Fierell is not a very nice person. And my Uncles Ko and Geoffe both were gone before my parents. Besides I had to stay in the village—city— where I was born and she didn’t live there.”
“How is she bad?” Kelly wrapped herself up in Nanda’s blankets, watching me, determined to keep me from getting back to sleep.
“Well, Fierell is a kind of sorceress. When my Mum went home from her early schooling, Fierell stayed with their guardian, my great aunt Turenel, who had fostered all of her own children for fear of her own ambitions. But Turenel obeyed her younger sister the queen and kept Fierell and loved Fierell. Turenel had all the best tutors come to teach her ward. She had callers and practical artists, farmers and starseers. She even had her a tutor in healing for a short while. But Fierell didn’t take to the natural arts. She did do well in her physical studies. Her weapons tutor was one of the old mind. He taught Fierell in the tradition of demands, of force and offense. He taught her magic. So, while my mother grew into a wise, strong, and considerate leader; her sister became a bloodmage.”
“That sounds mean.”
“Yes. It is. And unnecessary. Everyone should follow where their talents lie, but of what use is a bloodmage in a peaceful society?”
“So what did she do?”
“I don’t exactly know. Do you want some pancakes?”
She bounced on the bed impatiently, “I’m not hungry. Where did she live? As far away as Australia? Did you ever get to see her?”
“No, I saw Fierell only once in my childhood, and then from far away. My guardian wouldn’t let me near her. When I was really little, like you, she lived in Martz where Turenel was lord. Then, when my grandfather Emjae, lord of Forte died and his successor my Uncle Geoffe followed soon after, Turenel took Fierell to Forte and installed herself as lord. No breakfast at all? Not even smiley-face oatmeal?”
“No!” she giggled. “I want to hear more stories.”
“Why don’t you tell me about your family, dragonbait?”
She resisted my tickling. “I don’t know anything about my family. Tell me again about Zera.”
And so I told her again about Zera, my first weapons tutor, mother of male bonded Ierdon’s son, Tgeha and my Uncle Ko’s daughter, Kierri. She was dedicated to her craft, adored by Ko, and killed by her own son.
Seventeen
∞ Nanda Junior’s journal∞
Dormounts, Kaveg
When I came to, Geoffrey had his ear on my stomach. I was lying on the bank of the Sapproach, the sun glaring down fiercely. My clothes were laid out on the grass and Geoffrey’s dry sleep skirt was draped over me. I woke at the slithering sensation of his cold wet hair dragging along my skin. It made me shiver and that effort sent a spasm through my body. I found myself doing crunches and coughing water out of my lungs. Geoffrey helped me, holding me up and turning me so that I didn’t soak his sleepskirt and myself. When I was done, he helped me lay back down and pulled the sleep skirt up so that it modestly covered all my naughty bits.
I lay there for a few moments, reconstructing my world and the events of the morning. I did a mental once over of my body to see if anything felt irreparable. My right leg screamed from hip to toe. My left wrist throbbed and my hand was numb. The rest of my body felt just sore and bruised.
I opened my eyes to find Geoffrey staring at me, one hand on my belly. He was white and his clothes were dripping.
”You’ve got to be freezing.” I brushed a strand of hair off his face. “I’m out of danger. How about you take care of yourself now, healer.”
He was too worried about me, “Your stomach is hard as a rock.”
“I know, it’s been like that for a while, really heavy.” I tried to sit up but he wouldn’t let me. “I don’t think I could’ve leaped into that river if it weren’t so tough.”
He brushed an imaginary strand of hair from my face with a shaking hand. “Why did you take the risk? Do you want to lose it?”
“I’m fine.” I put my hand on his on my stomach. “She’s fine. I can feel her heartbeat strong as ever. My baby is okay, Geoffrey. Please take care of yourself. Your wrist is still bleeding.”
“Look,” he glanced into my eyes for a split second before he turned away again, “what you did, diving into that river, it was suicide. All you do is take risks. I’m scared and I don’t want to lose you. I’m happier with you around. Please, tell me your tale, maybe I can help. I am the prince, I’ve got to be good for something.”
A joke. A good sign he wasn’t as angry as he sounded.
“You wrap up that wrist and take off your wet clothes and I’ll come clean.”
He whipped his shirt off faster than in any of my dreams and pulled his medkit over. “Go.”
“A year ago, I was occasionally suicidal. I certainly wouldn’t have fought any threat to my life. But now,” I glanced at my bandaged wrist and popped a waterlogged ear, “despite appearances, I am full of life in many ways. If I appear to take stupid risks, most of the time it’s because I’m a child in your world, unaware that things are dangerous.”
“The father?”
“You could say I left him. I didn’t know I was pregnant and he wouldn’t believe me if I could find a way to tell him that she’s his.”
A wind picked up and sent my clothes flying away. Geoffrey, trying to hold the bandage on his cleaned wrist, ran after them like so many fliers in a Kinko’s parking lot. I watched, making no effort to help. I remembered him running around Cheesman park like that, trying to tag Kelly. I had supposedly been in the game as well, but I think it was an honorary position because no one attempted to tag me. It was one big excuse for the two of them to run around like banshees and wrestle in the grass.
When my clothes were rounded up and returned to me, Geoffrey helped me put on the dry, shapeless dress.
“You should try to tell him. He might care.”
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