Dreamsnake

by Vonda N. McIntyre

  Merideth knelt beside him. “How is she?”

  “She finally went to sleep. She’s been just the same. At least she doesn’t hurt…”

  Merideth took the young man’s hand and bent to kiss the sleeping woman lightly. She did not stir. Snake put down the leather case and moved closer; Merideth and the young man looked at each other with blank expressions as they became aware of the exhaustion overtaking them. The young man suddenly leaned toward Merideth and they embraced, silently, close and long.

  Merideth straightened, drawing back with reluctance. “Healer, these are my partners, Alex,” a nod toward the young man, “and Jesse.”

  Snake took the sleeping woman’s wrist. Her pulse was light, slightly irregular. She had a deep bruise on her forehead, but neither pupil was dilated, so perhaps she was lucky and had only a mild concussion. Snake pulled aside the sheet. The bruises were those of a bad fall: point of shoulder, palm of hand, hip, knee.

  “You said she went to sleep — has she been fully conscious since she fell?”

  “She was unconscious when we found her but she came to.”

  Snake nodded. There was a deep scrape down Jesse’s side and a bandage on her thigh. Snake pulled the cloth away as gently as possible, but the dressing stuck with dry blood.

  Jesse did not move when Snake touched the long gash in her leg, not even as one shifts in sleep to avoid annoyance. She did not wake from pain. Snake stroked the bottom of her foot, with no result. The reflexes were gone.

  “She fell off her horse,” Alex said.

  “She never falls,” Merideth snapped. “The colt fell on her.”

  Snake sought the courage that had seeped slowly away since Grass was killed. It seem irretrievable. She knew how Jesse was hurt; all that remained was to find out how badly. But she did not say anything. Resting one forearm on her knee, head down, Snake felt Jesse’s forehead. The tall woman was sweating coldly, still in shock.

  If she has internal injuries, Snake thought, if she is dying…

  Jesse turned her head away, moaning softly in her sleep.

  She needs whatever help you can give her, Snake thought angrily. And the longer you swim in self-pity, the more likely you are to hurt her instead.

  She felt as if two completely different people, neither of them herself, were holding a dialogue in her mind. She watched and waited and was vaguely grateful when the duty-bound self won the argument over the part of her that was afraid.

  “I need help to turn her over,” she said.

  Merideth at Jesse’s shoulders and Alex at her hips, they eased her up and held her on her side, following Snake’s instructions to keep from twisting her spine. A black bruise spread across the small of her back, radiating both ways from the vertebrae. Where the color was darkest, the bone was crushed.

  The force of the fall had almost sheared the spine’s smooth column. Snake could feel shattered chips of bone that had been pushed out into muscle.

  “Let her down,” Snake said, with deep, dull regret. They obeyed and waited in silence, watching her. She sat on her heels.

  If Jesse dies, she thought, she will not feel much pain. If she dies, or if she lives, Grass could not have helped her.

  “Healer…?” Alex — he could hardly be twenty, too young to be burdened with grief, even in this harsh land. Merideth seemed ageless. Deep-tanned, dark-eyed, old, young, understanding, bitter. Snake looked at Merideth, glanced at Alex, spoke more to the older partner. “Her spine is broken.”

  Merideth sat back, shoulders slumped, stunned.

  “But she’s alive!” Alex cried. “If she’s alive, how—”

  “Is there any chance you’re wrong?” Merideth asked. “Can you do anything?”

  “I wish I could. Merideth, Alex, she’s lucky to be alive. There’s no chance the nerves aren’t cut. The bone isn’t just broken, it’s crushed and twisted. I wish I could say something else, that maybe the bones would heal, maybe the nerves were whole, but I’d be lying to you.”

  “She’s crippled.”

  “Yes,” Snake said.

  “No!” Alex grabbed her arm. “Not Jesse — I won’t—”

  “Hush, Alex,” Merideth whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” Snake said. “I could have hidden this from you, but not for very long.”

  Merideth brushed a lock of brick-red hair from Jesse’s forehead. “No, it’s better to know all this at once… to learn to live with it.”

  “Jesse won’t thank us for this kind of life.”

  “Be quiet, Alex! Would you rather the fall had killed her?”

  “No!” Looking down at the tent floor, he said softly, “But she might. And you know it.”

  Merideth stared at Jesse, saying nothing at first. “You’re right.” Snake could see Merideth’s left hand, clenched in a fist, shaking. “Alex, would you see to my mare? We used her badly.”

  Alex hesitated, not, Snake thought, from reluctance to do as Merideth asked. “All right, Merry.” He left them alone. Snake waited. They heard Alex’s boots in the sand, then the horse’s slow steps.

  Jesse moved in her sleep, sighing. Merideth winced at the sound, sucked in a long breath, tried and failed to hold back the sudden deep sobs. Tears glistened in the lamplight, moving like strung diamonds. Snake slid closer and took Merideth’s hand, offering comfort until the clenched fist relaxed.

  “I didn’t want Alex to see…”

  “I know,” Snake said. And so did Alex, she thought. These people guard each other well. “Merideth, can Jesse bear to hear this? I hate to keep secrets, but—”

  “She’s strong,” Merideth said. “Whatever we hid, she’d know.”

  “All right. I’ve got to wake her. She shouldn’t sleep more than a few hours at a time with that head wound. And she has to be turned over every two hours or her skin will ulcerate.”

  “I’ll wake her.” Merideth leaned over Jesse and kissed her lips, held her hand, whispered her name. She took a long time to awaken, muttering and pushing Merideth’s hands away.

  “Can’t we let her sleep any longer?”

  “It’s safer to wake her for a while.”

  Jesse moaned, cursed softly, and opened her eyes. For a moment she stared up at the tent, then turned her head and saw Merideth.

  “Merry… I’m glad you’re back.” Her eyes were very dark brown, almost black, strange with her red hair and high complexion. “Poor Alex—”

  “I know.”

  Jesse saw Snake. “Healer?”

  “Yes.”

  Jesse gazed at her calmly, and her voice was steady. “Is my back broken?”

  Merideth started. Snake hesitated, but she could not evade the directness of the question even for a short time. Reluctantly, she nodded.

  Jesse relaxed all at once, letting her head fall back, staring upward.

  Merideth bent down, embracing her. “Jesse, Jesse, love, it’s…” But there were no more words, and Merideth leaned silently against Jesse’s shoulder, holding her close.

  Jesse looked at Snake. “I’m paralyzed. I won’t heal.”

  “I’m sorry,” Snake said. “No, I can’t see any chance.”

  Jesse’s expression did not change; if she had hoped for reassurance, she did not reveal disappointment. “I knew it was bad when we fell,” she said. “I heard bone break.” She raised Merideth gently. “The colt?”

  “He was dead when we found you. He broke his neck.”

  Jesse’s voice mingled relief, regret, fear. “It was quick,” she said. “For him.”

  The pungent odor of urine spread through the tent. Jesse smelled it and turned scarlet with shame. “I can’t live like this!” she cried.

  “It’s all right, never mind,” Merideth said, and went to get a cloth.

  While Merideth and Snake cleaned her, Jesse looked away and would not speak.

  Alex returned warily. “The mare’s all right.” But his mind was not on the mare. He looked at Jesse, who still lay with her head turned toward the wall, o
ne arm flung across her eyes.

  “Jesse knows how to pick a good horse,” Merideth said, attempting cheerfulness. The tension was brittle as glass. Both partners stared at Jesse, but she did not move.

  “Let her sleep,” Snake said, not knowing whether Jesse was asleep or not. “She’ll be hungry when she wakes up. I hope you have something she can eat.”

  Their frozen attention broke in relieved if slightly frantic activity. Merideth rummaged in sacks and pouches and brought out dried meat, dried fruit, a leather flask. “This is wine — can she have that?”

  “She hasn’t got a serious concussion,” Snake said. “The wine should be all right.” It might even help, she thought, unless alcohol makes her morose. “But that jerky—”

  “I’ll make broth,” Alex said. He pulled a metal pot from a jumble of equipment, drew his knife from his belt, and began to cut a chunk of jerky into bits. Merideth poured wine over shriveled sections of fruit. The sharp sweet fragrance rose and Snake realized she was both thirsty and ravenous. The desert people seemed to skip meals without noticing, but Snake had reached the oasis two days ago — or was it three? — and she had not eaten much while sleeping off the venom reaction. It was not good manners to ask for food or water in this region, because it was worse manners not to offer. Manners hardly seemed important right now. She was shaky with hunger.

  “Gods, I’m hungry,” Merideth said in astonishment, as if reading Snake’s feelings. “Aren’t you?”

  “Well, yes,” Alex said reluctantly.

  “And as hosts—” Apologetically, Merideth handed Snake the flask and found more bowls, more fruit. Snake drank cool-hot spicy wine, the first gulp too deep. She coughed; it was powerful stuff. She drank again and handed the flask back. Merideth drank; Alex took the leather bottle and poured a generous portion into the cooking pot. Only then did he sip the wine himself, quickly, before taking the broth outside to the tiny paraffin stove. The desert heat was so oppressive that they could not even feel the heat of the flame. It flickered like a transparent mirage against the black sand, and Snake felt fresh perspiration sliding down her temples and between her breasts. She wiped her sleeve across her forehead.

  They breakfasted on jerky and fruit, and the wine, which struck quickly and hard. Alex began to yawn almost immediately, but every time he nodded, he staggered to his feet and went outside to stir Jesse’s broth.

  “Alex, go to sleep,” Merideth finally said.

  “No, I’m not tired.” He stirred, tasted, took the pot off the fire, set it inside to cool.

  “Alex—” Merideth took his hand and drew him to the patterned rug. “If she calls us, we’ll hear her. If she moves, we’ll go to her. We can’t help her if we’re falling over our own feet from weariness.”

  “But I… I…” Alex shook his head, but fatigue and the wine stayed with him. “What about you?”

  “Your night was harder than my ride. I need to relax a few more minutes, but then I’ll come to bed.”

  Reluctantly, gratefully, Alex lay down nearby. Merideth stroked his hair until, in a few moments, Alex began to snore. Merideth glanced at Snake and smiled. “When he first came with us, Jesse and I wondered how we could ever sleep with such a noise. Now we can hardly sleep without it.”

  Alex’s snore was loud and low, and every so often he caught his breath and snuffled. Snake smiled. “You can get used to nearly anything, I guess.” She took one last sip of wine and returned the flask. Merideth, reaching for it, suddenly hiccupped, then, blushing, stoppered the bottle instead of drinking.

  “Wine affects me too easily. I should never use it.”

  “At least you know. You probably never make a fool of yourself.”

  “When I was younger—” Merideth laughed at memories. “I was foolish then, and poor as well. A bad combination.”

  “I can think of better.”

  “Now we’re rich, and I’m perhaps a little less foolish. But what good is it all, healer? Money can’t help Jesse. Nor wisdom.”

  “You’re right,” Snake said. “They can’t help her, and neither can I. Only you and Alex can.”

  “I know it.” Merideth’s voice was soft and sad. “But it will take Jesse a long time to get used to that.”

  “She’s alive, Merideth. The accident came so close to killing her — isn’t it enough to be grateful for, that she’s alive?”

  “To me, yes, it is.” The words had begun to slur. “But you don’t know Jesse. Where she’s from, why she’s here—” Merideth stared groggily at Snake, hesitating, then plunging ahead. “She’s here because she can’t stand to be trapped. Before we were together, she was rich and powerful and safe. But her whole life and all her work were planned out for her. She would have been one of the rulers of Center—”

  “The city!”

  “Yes, it was all hers, if she wanted it. But she didn’t want to live under a stone sky. She came outside with nothing. To make her own destiny. To be free. Now — the things she enjoys most will be beyond her. How can I tell her to be glad she’s alive, when she knows she’ll never walk on the desert again, or find me a diamond for some patron’s earring, never gentle another horse, never make love?”

  “I don’t know,” Snake said. “But if you and Alex see her life as a tragedy, that’s what it will be.”

  Just before dawn the heat eased slightly, but as soon as it grew light the temperature rose again. The camp was in deep shade, but even in the protection of the rock walls the heat was like a pressure.

  Alex snored and Merideth slept peacefully near him, oblivious to the sound, one strong hand curled over Alex’s back. Snake lay on the tent floor, facedown, arms outstretched. The fine fibers in the pile of the rug prickled softly against her cheek, damp with her sweat. Her hand throbbed but she could not sleep, and she did not have the energy to rouse herself.

  She drifted into a dream in which Arevin appeared. She could see him more clearly than she could remember him when she was awake. It was a curious dream, childishly chaste. She barely touched Arevin’s fingertips, and then he began to fade away. Snake reached for him desperately. She woke up throbbing with sexual tension, her heart racing.

  Jesse stirred. For a moment Snake did not move, then, reluctantly, she raised herself. She glanced at the other two partners. Alex slept soundly with the momentary forgetfulness of youth, but sheer weariness lined Merideth’s face and sweat plastered down the shiny, black curls. Snake left Merideth and Alex alone and knelt by Jesse, who lay face down as they last had turned her, her cheek resting on one hand, her other hand shielding her eyes.

  She’s feigning sleep, Snake thought, for the line of her arm, the curl of her fingers, showed not relaxation but tension. Or wishing it, like me. Both of us would like to sleep, sleep and ignore reality.

  “Jesse,” she said softly, and again, “Jesse, please.”

  Jesse sighed and let her hand fall to the sheet.

  “There’s broth here when you feel strong enough to drink it. And wine, if you’d like.”

  A barely perceptible shake of the head, though Jesse’s lips were dry. Snake would not allow her to become dehydrated, but she did not want to have to argue her into eating, either.

  “It’s no good,” Jesse said.

  “Jesse—”

  Jesse reached out and laid her hand over Snake’s. “No, it’s all right. I’ve thought about what’s happened. I’ve dreamed about it.” Snake noticed that her dark brown eyes were flecked with gold. The pupils were very small. “I can’t live like this. Neither can they. They’d try — they’d destroy themselves trying. Healer—”

  “Please…” Snake whispered, afraid again, more afraid than she had ever been in her life. “Please don’t—”

  “Can’t you help me?”

  “Not to die,” Snake said. “Don’t ask me to help you die!”

  She bolted to her feet and outside. The heat slammed against her, but there was nowhere to go to escape it. The canyon walls and tumbled piles of broken rock rose u
p around her.

  Head down, trembling, with sweat stinging her eyes, Snake stopped and collected herself. She had acted foolishly and she was ashamed of her panic. She must have frightened Jesse, but she could not yet make herself return and face her. She walked farther from the tent, not toward the desert where the sun and sand would waver like a fantasy, but toward a pocket in the canyon wall that was fenced off as a corral.

  It seemed to Snake hardly necessary to pen the horses at all, for they stood in a motionless group, heads down, dusty, lop-eared. They did not even flick their tails; no insects existed in the black desert. Snake wondered where Merideth’s handsome bay mare was. These are a sorry lot of beasts, she thought. Hanging on the fence or lying in careless heaps, their tack shone with precious metal and jewels. Snake put her hands on one of the roped wooden stakes and rested her chin on her fists.

  At the sound of falling water she turned, startled. At the other side of the corral, Merideth filled a leather trough held up by a wooden frame. The horses came alive, raising their heads, pricking their ears. They started across the sand, trotting, then cantering, all in a turmoil, squealing and nipping and kicking up their heels at each other. They were transformed. They were beautiful.

  Merideth stopped nearby, holding the limp, empty waterskin, looking at the small herd rather than at Snake. “Jesse has a gift with horses. Choosing them, training them… What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. I must have upset her. I had no right—”

  “To tell her to live? Maybe you don’t, but I’m glad you did.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I tell her,” Snake said. “She has to want to live herself.”

  Merideth waved and yelled. The horses nearest the water shied away, giving the others a chance to drink. They jostled each other, draining the trough dry, then standing near it and waiting expectantly for more. “I’m sorry,” Merideth said. “That’s all for now.”

  “You must have to carry a great deal of water for them.”

  “Yes, but we need all of them. We come in with water and we go out with the ore and the stones Jesse finds.” The bay mare put her head over the rope fence and nuzzled Merideth’s sleeve, stretching to be scratched behind the ears and under the jaw. “Since Alex came with us we travel with more…things. Luxuries. Alex said we’d impress people that way, so they’d want to buy from us.”