The Healer’s Mantle

by Leigh Roberts

  As she was almost through the door of their quarters, someone grabbed her, pushed her up against a wall, and overpowered her from behind. Pinned and helpless, her hands were bound, and something hard was pressed into her mouth and tied there while another wrapping completely covered her eyes. She could not move; she could not see. She could not make a noise. Then she was dragged roughly inside and pushed down to the floor.

  Khon’Tor had been waiting for her.

  * * *

  Acaraho accompanied the females back to the Healer’s Quarters. They walked slowly, reverently. Nadiwani had her arm around Adia’s waist. Acaraho brought up the rear, keeping an eye on Adia. He could see she was exhausted.

  When they were halfway there, Adia stumbled and fell forward. In one swift movement, Acaraho was in front of her, sweeping her up into his arms. She was too tired to resist and surrendered to the sweet comfort of being carried, letting herself lean up against him.

  Acaraho was warm, and she could hear his strong, slow heartbeat. She felt safe and protected. And the memory of being carried back from the cold that night when Khon’Tor had attacked her came flooding back. She remembered, in contrast to the pain and the fear and the cold, the same feelings of comfort, warmth, protection. Love.

  Awan, the guard at the end of the tunnel, saw them coming and went on ahead to open the door. Acaraho carried Adia to the back of her quarters and gently laid her down on her sleeping mat. He caressed her face, and before he could stand, she reached up and grabbed his hand. Not saying a word, still holding hers, he nodded to her and with his other hand he signed, “I know.”

  Adia closed her eyes and let out a long deep breath. A feeling came over her—a feeling that everything was going to be alright.

  Nadiwani thanked Acaraho as Mapiya and Honovi left for Mapiya’s quarters.

  Acaraho then stepped out quietly, and with Awan walked back the way they had come.

  When he got to the end of the tunnel and Awan’s post, he said, “Be extra vigilant for the next few days, Awan. Tomorrow I will explain.” Before he returned to his quarters, Acaraho doubled the guard to two additional posts between the Healer’s Quarters and the other routes in the area. He was not taking any chances; not ever again.

  * * *

  Knocked to the floor and bruised, Hakani struggled for all she was worth. She knew it had to be Khon’Tor, but she was terrified just the same. It was him, but it was not him. He was more like a primal beast sprinting from the shadows and attacking her.

  He grabbed her by her hair and pulled back hard, exposing her neck. His breath was heavy and hot on her skin. She felt his barred teeth brush her throat and then slowly take part of her flesh between them and bear down, just enough to hurt but not enough to draw blood, a low menacing growl deep in his throat. Her heart was pounding. He had her trapped, barely able to breathe. He was crushing her with his weight, demonstrating how powerless she was against him. His other hand was cutting into her soft flesh, threatening to violate her at any moment.

  Then suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, her hands were freed from the lashings and she was released. She lay there terrified, afraid to move, fearing another attack at any second. Finally, realizing Khon’Tor was gone, she broke down, sobbing.

  She did not understand the reason for the attack. Is he just reasserting his power over me, reminding me that he has not forgiven me? Is this the start of more demands?

  Whatever it was, it was the most violent Khon’Tor had ever been with her. She shuddered to think what he would have done had she not behaved at the meeting in accordance with his warning.

  His point was made; he could overpower her any time he chose. And there was nothing she could do about it.

  She got up and went to her sleeping area, bruised and aching. She tried to sleep but was not able to, wondering if Khon’Tor was coming back or if he was finished for the time being. There was no way to barricade the room against his entry. Nothing she had the strength to move into place would slow him down even a bit. Why had he not announced that she would be taking Adia’s offspring after it was born? Surely he was not going to go against the High Council’s decree?

  Hakani did not sleep well that night. Or the next. Or the one after that.

  * * *

  The following day Adia woke with a feeling of relief, then, finally alert, she remembered yesterday’s events and Khon’Tor’s eloquent and moving speech on her behalf. She wondered if Honovi had been as moved by his eloquence as had everyone else.

  Well, almost everyone, she thought. She knew her small circle would have noticed as she did, that he left out the part where her offspring would be turned over to Hakani after it was born. She knew Hakani had been in the room, and she would certainly have noticed. Adia believed that Khon’Tor did not mention it simply because it would have shifted the reverent mood he was creating. But that was a story for another time. She marveled again at what a skilled strategist he was.

  Seeing Khon’Tor at his best underscored her decision to keep his secret. No one could replace Khon’Tor, and certainly not at this time.

  Adia then remembered Hakani’s miscarriage. Khon’Tor needed to produce an heir—one who could assume his position of Leader one day. One whom he could openly acknowledge, unlike the one she was carrying. Adia felt a twinge of sadness that her offspring, if it were a male, would be cheated of his rightful heritage as Khon’Tor’s successor. He would have the blood of leadership on both sides, she reflected, thinking of her father, the Leader the People of the Deep Valley.

  Of all the communities, the People of the Deep Valley was the second largest, lying many days journey past that in which Kurak’Kahn, the Overseer of the High Council lived. The People there enjoyed a rich and abundant life. As here, the People of the Deep Valley also lived underground. Adia did not know how common this was, because word only traveled so far among the People. But unlike the jagged rocky elevations and swiftly moving waters of Kthama, theirs was set amid a gentler, more rolling and verdant terrain. She missed walking great distances as an offspring without worrying about her footing or having to duck to avoid sudden outcrops of boulders. Here, at Kthama, there were paths where one slip could result in a fatal tumble to the turbulent waters below. The darker cold months made sojourns along the outside rocky elevations even more treacherous, despite the People’s low light vision.

  Adia had many fond memories of nights spent sleeping under the stars with her Father, cradled in the soft grasses on gently sloping hillsides. She never let herself think of her Mother very often; the loss of never having known her was too painful, and she kept it locked in a part of herself she rarely visited.

  She knew too well the painful longing for that one person who would never abandon you, never turn her back on you. Who would always be there—no matter your age—to love and support you and guide you through life. The thought of any of her offspring, Waschini or otherwise, living with that emptiness inside of them was unbearable.

  There were other thoughts Adia never let herself dwell on for long. One was Khon’Tor’s attack. She did not understand the reason for it. There had long been rumors that Khon’Tor and Hakani were estranged. Sometimes she wondered if his assault on her had sprung from years of frustration, his long-burning anger, and that the opportunity had presented itself. But the fact that Hakani was with offspring belied that. And his rage had been so inflamed, so out of proportion at her leaving Kthama, that it still did not add up. But no circumstances could excuse what he had done.

  The other thoughts she did not allow herself to entertain long were those about Acaraho. How much she admired him, how honorable he was, how protective he was of her. And then there was another set—thoughts forbidden to a Healer. Hopeless longings that could never be satisfied and were best kept locked away forever.

  * * *

  It was not much later that one of the watchers delivered a message to Acaraho from the High Council; they had located a Healer to look after Adia and help with her delivery. She w
as from the community of the People of the Far High Hills and escorted by two assistants. Acaraho immediately began making arrangements for her living space.

  The People of the Far High Hills were situated farther north and east than Adia’s people, the People of the Deep Valley. Much of the journey to and from the Far High Hills could be made underground, along the Mother Stream, the large river flowing through the People’s cave at the third and lowest level. It was the Mother Stream that made living in the expansive structure of Kthama possible, delivering fresh water, oxygen, and rich nutrients throughout their hidden community. Because the lower levels of Kthama were accessible via the Mother Stream, all access points along its length were restricted. Except for during the Ashwea Awhidi, the pairing ceremonies, only the higher-ranking members of any of the People were allowed to use it as a conduit between their communities.

  * * *

  Receiving word that the Healer was on her way, Acaraho immediately went to tell Adia. He wanted to check on her anyway after her stumble the night before. On the way, he stopped to speak with his First Guard, Awan, who had been on duty and had missed Khon’Tor’s speech. Acaraho told him that Adia was with offspring and that Khon’Tor had asked everyone to remember her dedication to the People and requested that they not judge her harshly.

  Awan listened intently but said nothing. When he was done, Acaraho left. He would not have walked away so casually had he known what Awan was thinking. The First Guard had concluded that the reason Acaraho was so watchful and so protective of Adia was that he had seeded her offspring.

  It was Acaraho who had been stationed outside of the Healer’s Quarters after Hakani revealed the presence of the Waschini offspring. It was Acaraho who had found and arranged for Oh’Dar’s Whitespeak teacher. It was Acaraho who had made the arrangements for the High Council. It was Acaraho who had stationed the guards for Adia’s protection. It was Acaraho who had volunteered to become Oh’Dar’s male role model, tying his life to hers for many years to come. And it was Acaraho who had carried Adia in his arms to her quarters the night before.

  Had they stepped back and thought about it, Adia and Acaraho themselves would have realized that virtually everyone was thinking the two of them had succumbed to their feelings for each other.

  * * *

  Adia was nonplussed by Acaraho’s news of the Healer’s arrival. She welcomed the care and was grateful that the Healer, Urilla Wuti, was very skilled and experienced. But she did not look forward to more people coming and going in her life. And Adia had cared for more than her share of seeded females—it was not that she did not know what to expect or look for.

  Adia did think having Urilla Wuti here for the birth was a good idea, though. She had toyed with the idea of asking Ithua to attend her, but if there were problems, Ithua would not have the size or strength to be of much help to her or the offspring.

  So Adia braced herself for more company, more commotion and even more intrusion into her private life. She wondered at what point they would take her offspring away from her; perhaps that was another reason to bring in a Healer not tied to the High Rocks. Urilla Wuti would perhaps have less difficulty taking the offspring away from Adia than one of her own people or one of the Brothers would.

  The Healer arrived pretty much on schedule and Acaraho met her and her two attendants. He had arranged her quarters for her much as he had for Honovi, though Urilla Wuti did not need the fluorescent stones for lighting in the dark. He located her not far from the Healer’s Quarters, but not so close as to be privy to every coming and going. He had installed a wooden door as a courtesy, as he often did for visiting females—the People and the Brothers alike.

  Urilla Wuti was older than Adia but in no way out of her prime. Acaraho hoped she had the experience she was purported to have.

  She had brought with her two large bundles carried on the shoulders of her attendants, presumably filled with medicines she thought Adia might not have in supply. Her attendants helped her get settled, after which Acaraho asked if they wished to be put up for the night before heading back. They declined but did accept Acaraho’s offer of partaking of the evening meal before leaving.

  * * *

  Acaraho had not met with Khon’Tor since the last assembly, so once Urilla Wuti was settled and her attendants shown to the Great Chamber for the evening meal, he looked for the Leader.

  Khon’Tor was also sitting in the Great Chamber, far from the general commotion of the hour. Acaraho sat down beside him, straddling the bench-like seat to face Khon’Tor directly. As he sat, the bench rocked slightly at the addition of his muscular frame.

  “Khon’Tor, the Healer from the High Council has arrived. It is Urilla Wuti from the People of the Far High Hills. I do not know much about her, other than that she is said to be very well experienced in all aspects of carrying offspring, as well as the delivery.”

  “Alright. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can get back to normal. Are you hearing anything to be concerned about from the outposted watchers?” asked Khon’Tor.

  “No,” replied Acaraho. “Only the usual activity this time of year; animals waking up from their long sleep, migrations. No sign of the Waschini nor any word from other areas either,” he answered. It was early spring and the People’s land was starting to blossom in beauty, and sweet fragrance filled the air.

  Acaraho looked around the room and realized the People were dealing very well with the fact of Adia being with offspring. He knew the credit belonged to Khon’Tor, and despite what else he thought of the Leader, and despite his vow that Khon’Tor would still pay for his actions, he decided to give the Leader due respect for now.

  “Your speech to the People has made all the difference in their reactions to Adia’s situation. It could easily have gone in the wrong direction. There is no one with your ability to reach them.”

  “Thank you. There is no benefit in stirring up animosity toward the Healer. It is in the best interests of none of us to have dissension and rife within our community,” replied Khon’Tor.

  “Anything else you need of me tonight?” asked Acaraho, arising to leave, the bench creaking as if giving a little sigh at its relief from the pressing weight.

  “Yes, there is,” he replied. “Place an additional guard at the far end of the access to my quarters. Leave him there until I say otherwise. Instruct him as you have the other but let him know I may tell him to leave when I return. Make sure he is far enough away, however, that he cannot overhear anything from my quarters.”

  “I will take care of it after I have my nightly talk with the watchers and guards,” answered Acaraho. The High Protector speculated that given what might be going on in the Leader’s Quarters, Khon’Tor would not want a guard within earshot. But this made a second guard, as Khon’Tor had already assigned one to accompany Hakani at all times. Acaraho did not question the Leader’s orders but had his ideas about the reason for them.

  * * *

  Adia was right. Khon’Tor had not mentioned the part about her offspring being turned over to Hakani because he did not want to leave them with consternation and controversy. He would have to address it with them when the time came, but for now there was a respite because the People had responded to his elocution even better than he had hoped.

  Khon’Tor was planning on sleeping in the Leader’s Quarters tonight and every night until the delivery. He had only so many more opportunities to exert his control over Hakani. After the offspring was placed in her care, the helpmate ordered by the High Council would be put in place. From that point on, he would have no more intimate access to Hakani; at least not within the convenience of his own living space.

  On his way down the stone conduit leading to his quarters, Khon’Tor relieved the first guard he had placed, instructing him to come back after first light. As he opened the door and stepped inside, he heard small stones scattering and clacking about.

  Ah, thought Khon’Tor. Hakani has set up an alarm system hoping to alert herself so I canno
t catch her by surprise again.

  This pleased him because it meant Hakani was not going to submit easily. All the better for my enjoyment, he thought, and his heart started pounding in anticipation of Hakani putting up a fight.

  * * *

  All the nights during which Hakani had not slept, waiting for another attack, had given her time to put countermeasures in place. She knew from her last experience that the worst part was the element of surprise. If she could eliminate that, it would go a long way toward managing her fear. Hakani did not believe Khon’Tor would do her so much harm that she would require medical care or even die. But he wanted her to think he would, and when she figured out it was just a bluff, she relaxed quite a bit. He wants to scare me, she thought, that’s all.

  She was able to sleep once she saw his last attack from a different perspective, but she heard the stones scatter across the stone floor and knew Khon’Tor had entered. She opened her eyes to see his huge silhouette standing over her.

  “Wake up Hakani,” his deep voice boomed. “Wake up now,” he continued.

  Hakani sat up, but Khon’Tor just continued to stand there. She wondered why he did not just get on with it.

  “We need to talk,” he said, his voice gruff and demanding.

  Hakani doubted they needed to talk; there was nothing to discuss. Khon’Tor just wanted her fully awake. Sleeping prey provided no sport.

  Apparently not expecting Hakani to rise to her feet, Khon’Tor instead sat down next to her on her sleeping mat. She looked at him, just inches away, wondering what this was about. She had been expecting an attack, not conversation.