by A. G. Henley
"What happened?"
"Drink, Fennel," Marj says soothingly. "I'll tell you, but don't stop drinking." I take another sip to oblige her.
"Fennel . . .," says Eland sleepily. "Fennel! Are you . . .?”
"I'm okay. I'm . . . here."
He grips my hand like he thinks if he lets go I might slip away again. His hand quivers as bad as mine. "What was wrong? You went mad! You were screaming, and crying, and hearing things we couldn't hear. You kept saying the fleshies were coming, but they weren't, and then you kind of collapsed and were muttering and sweating and yelling out—" He stops to take a breath. "Are you sure you're okay?"
I cover my mouth with my hand. Could it be that none of what I heard and felt was real? Am I going mad?
"I heard . . ." I try again. "I thought I heard them coming. Through the woods. They surrounded us and . . . and they were shrieking, and people . . . were shouting. One of them grabbed me—"
"No one grabbed you," Eland says. "Unless you count Moray."
"Moray?" I don’t remember him being there.
"He brought you to me," Marj says.
My forehead wrinkles. "The sick ones . . . they weren't really here?"
"No, Fennel."
My hands shake harder. "Why could I hear them and feel them?" I can still feel their cold fingers clawing my skin. "What's wrong with me?"
Marj answers. "I think you were poisoned."
Eland sucks in a breath.
"What kind of poison?" I whisper.
"I suspect banewort. It can cause this kind of reaction. Is your mouth very dry?"
I nod.
"Stomach pain? Weakness?"
The rock still crouches in my stomach. "Yes, all of those."
"What did you eat this morning?" she asks.
"Porridge. And only a few bites."
“Any berries?”
I shake my head.
"Powder form, then. Banewort roots can be dried and powered. It must have been mixed in your food. Or sprinkled on it. Don't worry, I suspected a toxin and gave you an emetic right away."
So that's the horrible taste in my mouth.
"How? Who?" I ask, but thanks to my puffy lips and tongue, the words come out sounding the same. The cook this morning was an elder, an old friend of Aloe's. I can't imagine her trying to poison me. But I can't really think. My brain feels as ponderous as my tongue.
"None . . . none of it was real?" I ask. "Why did I think the sick ones were here when they weren't?"
"You were delirious, hallucinating. Both symptoms of banewort poisoning. It takes each person differently."
"It was so real," I whisper. I have a sudden understanding of what Eland and Bear, and Jackal and Rose, and any of the other sighted who'd been exposed to the Scourge felt. I believed they were going to kill me, or make me one of them at the very least. I have a feeling if the sick ones had actually been around, I might not have come back to myself at all. The belief that I was dying was too overpowering. I squeeze Eland's hand, wanting to feel something warm and solid. Real. He squeezes back.
"Drink more," Marj urges.
"Is the powder you gave Eland in this tea?" I ask. "It tastes awful."
"Yes. It helped with the hallucinations from the banewort."
I nod, and take several more sips. "Thank you, Marj."
The fire dwindles in my throat, but the fear remains. I'm not sure the remedy for that will be as simple as throwing up the poison and drinking tea. I know what it's like now to believe I'm being consumed. It's not something I'm likely to forget soon. There's a knock on the door, and it cracks open.
"Marj, how is she?" Bear sounds rattled. I’m happy to hear his voice.
"Come in," Marj tells him. "But only for a short time, mind."
"Are you all right?" he asks me. "You were so . . . I mean, you were raving."
"I know," I can't suppress a shudder. Eland fills Bear in on Marj's suspicion. He's as shocked to hear her conclusions as we were.
"Who was there? Around the kitchen fire?" I smile weakly. "Anyone who particularly wants me dead?"
Bear growls. "Moray."
My cup hovers midway to my mouth. Moray? I thought we'd made progress since the day he attacked me. I wouldn't call him a friend by any stretch, but I don’t think he would try to kill me now, either. He wants to go to Koolkuna; he won’t get there without me.
"Why didn't he find a way to get rid of me in the caves?" He could have killed me six different ways on any of the days we were alone together in there.
"Wouldn't leave much doubt who was to blame if he did it then. He's smarter than that—marginally," Bear says.
"Why did he bring her here, to Marj, if he wanted her to die?" Eland asks.
"Covering his tracks,” Bear says. “I think I really might kill him this time."
I'm still not convinced Moray was responsible. But I can’t be sure.
Panic rises in me. Could this have been a delayed punishment by the Council of Three? Would they try to murder me? Or was my poisoner the same person who nailed the dead animals to the wall and started the fires? Could that also have been ordered by the Three? Or was it Osprey and his followers? I rub my temples. My head is aching, and all the tea is making me need to relieve myself.
"Does Peree know what happened?" I'm afraid of what he'll do, how he'll react.
"He knows. It's okay. We've got it covered."
I cock my head. What does that mean?
"Marj," Bear says with the warm tone he uses when he turns up the charm. "I have a favor to ask."
"What is it this time, little Bear?" She sounds suspicious, but also affectionate. She has no children of her own, and it's no secret that Bear's one of her favorites. She patched him up enough times when he was a child.
"Can Fennel stay here with you for the rest of the day?"
"Of course. I'd like to keep an eye on her anyway. That's not a big fav . . . Wait, what else do you want me to do?"
"Don't tell anyone she's doing better. Tell them she's the same. Or better yet, tell them she’s worse."
"Bear," Marj chides. "You're asking me to lie to everyone? About a patient?"
"Yes. Including the Three."
"Lie to the . . . Bear, what in stars are you talking about? I will not lie to the Council of Three!"
Bear starts to wheedle. I suppress a smile; he can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be.
"Marj . . . Moray tried to kill Fenn—possibly on orders from the Three. If they find out she's recovering, they'll try again. We need time to figure out what to do, how to protect her."
"The Three wouldn't . . . they wouldn't do that." I hear the note of uncertainty in her voice.
"Are you sure about that? Sure enough to risk her life?" Bear says.
"Even if it is true, which I highly doubt, what can you do?"
"Leave that to me. Keep her here and keep her safe. Eland, too. I'll be back for them at nightfall."
I sit up, wishing someone would stop hammering the inside of my head. "Bear, what are you—?"
He stops me. "For once, Fennel, please do what you're told. Rest."
I hold my hands up in surrender and lie back.
"That's more like it," he says. "Now remember, Marj, no one gets in or out of here until I come back. Okay?"
"You're lucky you've collected so many plants and herbs for me," Marj says. "I don't think the Three—"
"Humor me?” Bear asks. I hear him kiss her cheek. "Thank you. Eland, stay out of sight. Fennel, try to look completely deranged if anyone comes to check on you. Shouldn't be hard after this morning, eh?" He kisses my cheek, too.
The door rasps open, and Bear leaves.
"What in the world is going on, Fennel?" Marj asks. "Why would the Three want to kill you?"
Did she completely miss the news about the dead animals and the fire or the rumor that our small group is leaving? I'm not all that surprised. Marj’s head is usually either in the clouds or buried in her work. She wouldn't be the first
one to listen to gossip. I hesitate, hoping I can trust her. She’s taking a risk for me by lying to the Three; I don't mind taking one for her.
"I'll explain, I promise. But first, do you have a bedpan or something?" I wave my empty mug around by way of explanation. "Please?"
I wash up as best I can and rest. In other words, I do what I'm told.
Eland helps Marj with small tasks around her shelter. He's supposed to be dusting, but I think he's actually sweeping dirt straight up into my face, given how much my eyes and nose are running. I still have a headache and my tongue slouches in my mouth, but I improve with each passing hour. I've been drinking Marj's tea nonstop. The bedpan and I have become close friends.
Marj is surprisingly unperturbed about the news that a group is leaving for Koolkuna. I try to entice her to come with us by telling her about Nerang and his marvelous healing powers. I describe his little room full of intriguing tinctures and powders and his powerful healing incense. But that isn't what fascinates her the most. She wants to hear more about the sick ones and how the anuna almost care for them.
"They feed them?" she asks.
"They feed them, because the sick ones need feeding. They can’t always find food on their own, especially the sickest among them. The anuna care for them for the same reason they invited us to live with them. We need a safe home and a new beginning. They’re sharing what they have with us.”
She thinks about what I said. "And how does the Scourge react to being fed?"
I think back to the first time I heard one of the sick ones speak. It was absolutely unforgettable. “They say thank you."
I tell her more, as I did with others who were curious the last few days. I describe the Feast of Deliverance, the building full of books Kadee showed me, and I describe the warm waters of the Myuna. I'm sure I have her convinced to come with us by the time I finish. So when I finally press her to come, she surprises me by declining.
"Why not?" Eland asks. "You don't have a family."
"Their community already has an herbalist—a wonderful one, by the sound of it. They don't need two. You and your sister are young; life is still full of possibilities for you. But I am old. This is my home, and these people are my family. The elders are my elders, and the children are my children. Those who remain here will need me. I can't abandon them."
Her voice is gentle, but I feel ashamed all the same. I’m not that self-sacrificing. Marj must see the shame contorting my face, because she says, "Fennel, your path is different. It always has been. You must follow it."
Her words remind me of Aloe's last words to me; it’s almost like she’s here. I blink tears away, but more push in behind them. All the tears I've yet to shed for my mother. Thousands of tears. One for each day of my life that I won't spend with her.
"She was always fiercely proud of you and Eland. That would never have changed, no matter what you did," Marj says, patting my back a little awkwardly. "You may not have been a child of her body, but you were always a child of her heart."
I can't stop the tears then. They come unbidden, unabashed. Eland’s arms wrap around me while I cry. Marj fusses over us, bringing ever more tea and nibbles she keeps stashed for hurt children in her care.
Like Aloe, Marj never cries. I guess she can't afford to. With as much loss as she’s endured all these years of taking care of our people, if she allowed the tears to come, they would never stop falling.
People stop by to check on me over the course of the afternoon. Eland hides, and I lie on the pallet Marj uses for her patients, doing my best to look unhinged like Bear directed—or at least asleep. Marj shoos them all away, saying I'm not well enough for visitors. The Three never make an appearance, though, which I think is strange.
I try to rest as much as I can, but I'm still mentally and physically drained. I feel like I've been sitting on pine needles for most of the day. When darkness falls, we wait for Bear to come for us. He didn't exactly say we were leaving tonight, but I have to assume we are. I hope we have enough supplies stored away for our trek through the caves.
In my mind I run through everything we pilfered over the last week: food; multiple sacks of water; extra clothes and blankets; torches. It's easier to focus on the prosaic-yet-necessary preparations, rather than thinking about the enormity of what we're about to do.
My thoughts stray often to Peree. If all goes as planned—I won’t let myself think about the countless ways it may not—we won’t be apart anymore. If there's an ointment to soothe my aching conscience, it's that thought, and the knowledge that I can provide a peaceful future to my brother and a few other families. That has to be worth it, doesn't it?
Eland chatters incessantly about the shelter in the trees he plans to build in Koolkuna. It will stretch between two trees, maybe three, and have at least four rooms: one for him, and one for the big cat he plans to tame and bring to live with us. I don't have the heart to tell him I don't think I can live in the trees thanks to my tree-sickness. Not to mention that I highly doubt any predator like a big cat can be trapped and tamed as a pet.
The door finally, finally opens, and Bear asks, "Are you ready?" He has the tone he uses when he's about to go hunting. Serious, focused. But not apprehensive, which was how he sounded every time I went out to face the Scourge as the Water Bearer.
Marj hands me a lumpy pouch. "Medicine. And more of the tea leaves for you, Fennel. I put an extra large portion in, just in case."
We all three embrace her, and she seems to hold Bear for an extra-long moment. Then, to my surprise, she pulls me aside.
"Fennel . . ." She sounds uncomfortable, which is unlike Marj. "Tell your intended something for me."
I wait for her to continue, curious.
"Tell him . . .tell . . . Peree . . . I wish I had not had to give him up in the Exchange. It is the biggest regret of my life."
I freeze. "He's your natural son?"
"I named him Wolf . . . but Peregrine suits him much better."
"He'll be glad to know." I find her shoulder. "Marj, are you sure you don't want to come with us? You would have the rest of your life to get to know him."
"It's too late now." The sorrow in her voice causes the lump in my own throat to swell. "But please take care of him, Fennel, as I didn't have the chance to do. I’m very glad you two found each other."
I promise her that I will. And I mean every word.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It's full dark and unusually quiet as Bear leads us away from Marj's shelter on the outskirts of the clearing. I inhale the familiar scents of my home: wood smoke, fresh sawdust, a hint of mustiness from the water hole, and the penetrating aroma of the greenheart trees. I won't be here to sample this particular combination of fragrances again, not anytime soon. The thought fills me with both anticipation and sadness.
"Where is everyone?" I ask Bear.
"Water hole. The Three called a meeting. I'm supposed to be checking on you to report back to them. We don't have much time."
"What about Peree?"
"The Lofties are meeting us at the caves."
"I need to stop by our shelter for a few things," I whisper. I planned to pack earlier, not knowing I would spend the day hiding out, pretending to be insane.
He changes course silently. We inch the door open and file inside. Eland stops so suddenly, I run into him.
"Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?"
"Cal, what are you doing here?" Bear keeps his voice pitched low.
"I wanted to see you before you left." Calli's good humor, the byproduct of being Fox's daughter, is nowhere to be heard. She sounds deflated. "I went to Marj's shelter to check on you, but she wouldn't let me in, so I came here to wait instead."
I can't help it; I have to ask. "Does your father know we're leaving tonight?"
"It wasn't that hard for me to figure out tonight was the night. The Three may know, too."
Bear swears under his breath. "Wish you'd told me that earlier."
"Wou
ld it have changed your minds?"
I let out a long breath, trying to control my spiking heart rate. It doesn’t help the slow throb in my head. "Probably not."
"So you are going then."
"Yeah, we're going," Eland says. He sounds determined, steady. It gives me courage.
"Come with us," I plead.
"I can't."
It feels like an impassable trench yawns between Calli and me. We shared everything as children. Every adventure, every bit of mischief, every terror, every hope—until the day I became the Water Bearer. Then it all seemed to change.
My childhood is a lump of wet sand in my fist—rough and a little misshapen, but easy to grasp. Becoming the Water Bearer was like thrusting that fist underwater. All the individual grains of sand that made up my life slipped, slid, separated, and washed away, until what was left was only the hope of a new life somewhere else. A life I can mold and shape myself.
"We have to get to the caves now," Bear says.
"I'll walk with you," Calli says.
I move around our shelter as quickly as I can, gathering the few items I can't leave behind. Extra clothes for Eland and me go into a pack, and an old doll of mine, sadly neglected, for Kora. Now her doll, Bega, will have a friend to gossip with. I add the rabbit’s foot Bear gave me for luck my first day as the Water Bearer and the scrap of fabric I stitched a bear on for him. I have Peree's knife in my pocket, as always. Eland gathers his arsenal: his still-uninitiated hunting knife and the bow he made with Peree. They never had the chance to make arrows for it, but there will be plenty of time for that in Koolkuna.
Finally, I grab Aloe's walking stick where she always left it at night, propped in the corner by her sleeping pallet. I've never wanted to use a stick—I have too much stupid pride. But it was so much a part of her that I can't bear to leave it behind. Leather strips twine over and around the top of the stick. I wish, as always, that the hands that wore them smooth with use were here to guide us now.
“I’ll take it,” Eland says somberly. I hand it to him.
Shouldering our bag, I pull him to me. We whisper our goodbyes to the home we shared with our mother. Her strong spirit and the fading ghosts of our childhoods draw close, making us shiver.
