The Downs

by Kim Fielding

  Moving slowly, Rig peeled the layers of soft cloth away, then removed the thick padding underneath. Enitan kept his eyes closed at first, but even through the lids he could discern light. He shuddered slightly with relief.

  “All right?” asked Rig.

  “Yes.” As much as he yearned for vision, it took all of Enitan’s will to open his eyes. In part this was because the unaccustomed light hurt, but mostly it was because he feared he’d discover he couldn’t see anything but indistinct light and shadow. Rig was waiting, however, and there was no point in putting off the inevitable. Gradually, Enitan raised his lids.

  At first he saw nothing but vague blurs, and that terrified him. Only when they began to resolve into more definite shapes and his heartbeat slowed to more reasonable levels did he notice the heavy palm on his shoulder. Not hurting him, not pinning him in place. Just… there. Gentle but strong.

  “Wood,” Enitan said. Because that was what the low ceiling was made of— rough planks traversed by heavy beams— and the walls as well. At home, he’d had a few pieces of furniture carved from the trunks of harpy trees, purchases Minna had thoroughly disapproved of. But he’d never imagined an entire room made of wood. The extravagance made him slightly dizzy. In the city, buildings were made from only stone and metal.

  As he continued to look around, he saw that the room was small and sparsely furnished. A few pieces of clothing hung from hooks, while pots and dishes sat on shelves. Two crudely made stools accompanied a small table. There were no windows, but the door was slightly ajar, letting in the dim light of late evening. The rest of the room’s illumination came from some glowing coals nestled in a stone fireplace and from a single flickering lantern hanging from a roof beam.

  The space was exotic but not frightening. It was hard to imagine anyone being tortured here. Maybe the demons took people someplace else for that.

  Enitan finally screwed up his courage and turned his head to look at Rig. He gasped at what he saw. “You’re—”

  “Hideous. I know.”

  “—human,” Enitan finished. Because although one side of Rig’s face was badly scarred— the skin looked like wax melted by a fire— and although he was a very large man, broad-shouldered and muscular, there was no question that he was a man. He had dark unruly hair that curled a bit near his neck, wide brown eyes, and slightly uneven teeth. He wore coarse clothing in shades of brown, and a thick gold hoop dangled from one ear. Like the room, he was exotic, and his appearance was slightly alarming. But he was not a demon.

  When Rig smiled, only the unburned side of his face lifted, but both his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Human.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  Enitan thought about this for a moment. “Probably not,” he admitted. He’d have considered it just another mysterious part of the demon’s diabolical game.

  “I figured. And it wasn’t worth arguing over. Besides, I’m ugly enough to be a demon.”

  “You’re not,” Enitan said. Rig snorted, but Enitan meant it. Honestly, any human face would have been beautiful at the moment— when he’d never expected to encounter another human and had doubted whether he’d see again at all. After so many days of Rig’s tender care, Enitan was inclined to view him as beautiful, scars or not. Besides, his eyes were warm and his crooked smile was endearing.

  “Your vision’s obviously still blurry,” Rig said. He removed his hand from Enitan’s shoulder, stood, and walked to the fire. As Enitan watched, Rig added a few logs and poked the coals into flames.

  “You’re burning wood!” Enitan exclaimed.

  Rig grinned over his shoulder. “I’m making us dinner.”

  “But… all that wood. Such an expense!” Usually Minna was the only one to fret over such things, but this was too much even for Enitan.

  “Expense?” Rig’s laughter echoed loudly. “If there’s one thing we have here in abundance, it’s wood.”

  Enitan licked his lips. “Where’s here?” he asked quietly.

  Rig didn’t answer at once. He poured water from a large earthen pitcher into a pot, then hung the pot on a frame over the fire. He tossed some items that might have been vegetables into the water before adding what appeared to be a large chunk of meat still on the bone. Finally he sprinkled some herbs or spices into the mix, wiped his hands on a scrap of cloth, and turned to face Enitan.

  “It won’t be ready for a while. You should sleep while you’re waiting.”

  “Where’s here? And how did you get me out of the Downs? I fell. I know I fell.” He remembered the beginning all too well— the terror and the pain— but not the end.

  “Yes, you fell. This is the Downs.”

  Enitan’s stomach clenched. “So the demons will—”

  “There are no demons. Just people. Some of us are better than others, and a lot of us are broken, but we’re as human as you are.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Rig crossed the room in a few steps and crouched beside him. “I told you from the beginning— you’re safe. Safe from demons anyway, and safe from those monsters on the Reach.” His lips curled into a snarl.

  “They weren’t monsters. They were—”

  “I saw what they did to you. They were monsters.” He shook his head slightly. “The Downs— it’s not an easy place by any means. There are dangers here. But no demons.” He traced his fingers across his scarred cheek.

  Thousands of questions crowded Enitan’s head, but he ended up asking the one that seemed least pertinent to his current situation. “You can’t heal yourself?”

  “No. Besides, I need to keep myself like this as a reminder.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of my pride and shortcomings.” Rig stood. “Sleep now. Then food, and after that we’ll do another healing session. I know you’re eager to get out of those splints.”

  Enitan truly was. “But you haven’t explained anything. Who are you? Why are you helping me? What’s going to happen once I’m healed? Where—”

  “Stop! I’ll tell you everything, I promise. But it’s a lot to take in. We’ll wait until you’re a little stronger. The curiosity won’t be fatal over a few more days, will it?”

  Suddenly as weary as Rig claimed he should be, Enitan sighed. “I suppose not.”

  ****

  It was easier to bear inactivity now that he could see. And now that he knew he wasn’t going to be tortured anytime soon, Enitan’s worries were slightly alleviated. But a dull pain still pervaded his body, the healing process exhausted him, and a new problem had presented itself.

  When he’d been blind and had believed Rig would soon start tormenting him, Enitan had been able to ignore the intimacy of Rig’s touch. Now that was impossible. He tried to close his eyes when Rig helped him empty his bladder and bowels and when Rig cleaned him with a warm damp cloth; but that didn’t help. Every brush of fingertips across his skin made his nerves tingle. At first he didn’t understand why, because there was nothing sexual about the contact. But then he understood— he was so very vulnerable right now, and nobody had truly cared for him like this since he was a small boy.

  Several days after the bandages came off his eyes, Enitan wiggled his fingers and toes. “Can the splints come off now?”

  Rig placed his palm on Enitan’s chest, closed his eyes, and hummed for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, he shook his head. “Two or three more days. Believe me, you don’t want to try to move around until your bones are strong.”

  Enitan knew this was true. And based on the frequent sharp twinges, he knew that his arms and legs were not fully healed. But gods, he was so tired of just lying there.

  “Have you always been a healer?” he asked, trying to distract himself.

  “Since I was a child. It runs in my family.”

  “It’s a good gift.”

  “It is. But it doesn’t make me all-powerful.”

  Enitan couldn’t really shrug, so he huffed in
stead. “Nobody’s all-powerful. But you do good for others. I… never have.”

  Rig’s hand was still on Enitan’s chest. “What did you do before you came here?”

  “Very little.” Enitan smiled wryly. “We had money. Not enough to make Minna happy, but enough to satisfy me. I went to university because my father insisted on it, but I didn’t put effort into my studies, and I tended to butt heads with the professors. I had more fun fighting, fucking… playing.”

  “Who’s Minna?” Rig asked, his head tilted slightly.

  Enitan answered through clenched teeth. “My sister.”

  “Oh. I had a brother and a sister, but they both died as infants. Many children do here.”

  “You… you were born in the Downs?” Enitan knew Rig wasn’t banished— he didn’t have the mark on his forehead— and surely no one would come here by choice. But it hadn’t occurred to Enitan that Rig might have spent his entire life in the Downs.

  “Of course. There were always people here. Not many, because life is hard. But we were here long before your city was built, I think. And then the city folk began to send people falling over the edge and a few survived to join us. Now all of us have ancestors from the city and from the Downs. Maybe you and I are distantly related.” He gave his lopsided grin. “Did any of your forebears get sent to the Downs?”

  “I’m fairly certain I’m the first with that distinction.”

  Enitan thought that Rig might ask him why he’d been banished. But instead, he seated himself more comfortably on the floor and touched his fingertips to Enitan’s bare hips. He began to sing.

  Each of his healing chants was a little different. Enitan didn’t know whether that was because he was healing different bits of Enitan’s body or he just got bored repeating the same tunes. He wondered whether Rig also spoke the language he sang in. Had it been the native tongue of the Downs before the city dwellers came?

  With these thoughts rattling around his skull, Enitan barely noticed when Rig moved his fingers inward a bit, to the seam where Enitan’s legs met his torso. But when Enitan glanced at Rig’s face, their gazes caught, and he was suddenly very aware of the warmth of Rig’s broad fingertips on his skin. The light cloth covering Enitan’s crotch did nothing to camouflage his growing erection.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, blushing.

  Rig smiled, closed his eyes, and continued his song.

  Enitan was still hard when the song ended, and his cheeks still flamed. But Rig looked bemused, not angry. “Who were you thinking of?” he asked gently.

  “I… Nobody. You… you felt good.”

  Uncertainty sat oddly on Rig’s face. He usually seemed very confident. “And my face doesn’t bother you?”

  “No.” Enitan laughed at the absurdity of the conversation. “You don’t bother me.”

  Rig pulled his hands away but remained seated. He rubbed the back of his neck, squinted up at the ceiling, and then narrowed his eyes at Enitan. “With your looks, you must have had beautiful lovers.”

  “Yes. But not all of them. A pretty face is nice. And I took some lovers because they had nicely shaped bodies. But I was also attracted to bed partners who told interesting stories or made me laugh. When I was much younger, I spent over a month with a woman old enough to be my mother, but she danced so well my head would spin. And once there was a very young man who could take a scrap of paper and fold it into any shape you wanted— animals, buildings, flowers.” Of course, Minna had declared the woman, the boy, and everyone else unsuitable.

  “I was never handsome,” Rig said. “Not even before.”

  “And I could never bring a dying man back to life. Which is more valuable?”

  Rig shook his head. “You’re an odd one, even for a city dweller.” That conclusion seemed to amuse him.

  “I’ve been told that before.” Enitan’s erection had wilted, but his skin felt tight and he had the impression it would take very little to make him hard again. He wanted the comfort of sex. “But if you find me attractive, and I feel the same way about you…”

  “You’re not well enough for it yet. Besides,” Rig paused to sigh heavily, “I couldn’t.”

  “Because I’m condemned?”

  “That matters less to me than my scars do to you. Look. I live alone at the edge of the Downs and I have little to offer anyone who doesn’t need healing. And I’m not the sort to take touching frivolously— either for healing or for sex. I’ve never slept with anyone but my husband and one other man, and I doubt I ever will again. But you’ll be better soon and you can move on. There are plenty of people here who aren’t… aren’t me.”

  Rig stood and walked to the fire, keeping his broad back to Enitan.

  Enitan closed his eyes but didn’t sleep. Move on, Rig had said. To where? When Enitan tried to imagine his future— now that he actually had one— all he saw was Minna’s angry face.

  ****

  Chapter Five

  Based on observations made while flat on his back, Enitan knew that Rig was a large man. But he didn’t fully appreciate how large until the splints were finally off and Rig helped him stand upright. Enitan had long legs and was taller than average, but Rig had at least two hand widths over him and was considerably heavier too. That turned out to be a good thing, because there was no way Enitan could stand unassisted. Rig’s supporting arms felt good around him. Safe.

  “I want to go outside,” Enitan said as soon as he recovered from the vertigo of changing positions.

  “Not today unless you want me to carry you. Give yourself a few days to rebuild your strength.”

  Enitan grimaced as he looked down at himself. In some belated semblance of modesty, Rig had given him a shirt to wear, but Enitan’s bare legs stuck out beneath the hem. They were too thin, and the skin was pink and tender-looking. “I feel like I’ve been weak forever.”

  “Patience. Death was reaching for you when I found you. If you weren’t strong, you wouldn’t have survived.”

  Although Enitan wanted to respond, Rig urged him to take a few steps, which took all of Enitan’s concentration. Walking hurt, and his muscles felt loose and watery. He didn’t even make it to the far end of the small room before his legs gave out entirely. Rig caught him, carried him back to the sleeping mat, and gently set him down. He propped Enitan’s head with a pillow before beginning a light massage of his legs.

  “That was very good,” Rig said.

  Enitan snorted. But instead of arguing, he picked up the thread of their earlier conversation. “How did you find me? And why did you rescue me? You know I’ve been banished.”

  “You’ve been banished from the city, but I live in the Downs. And it’s what I do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rig didn’t answer right away. He kept moving his thumbs over Enitan’s calves, pressing almost hard enough to hurt, but not quite. His dark brows formed a vee of concentration, his gaze unfocused.

  “My village is a day’s walk from here,” he finally said. “It’s not… I’ve heard that thousands and thousands of people live in the city, but fewer than five hundred live in my village. It’s where I grew up.”

  “Then why aren’t you there now?” asked Enitan, who until recently had never even imagined leaving his home. Why would he? To the west was the Reach and then the Downs, and to the east, desert. Nearly impassible mountains lay to the north, and the south had farmland leading to the sea.

  “I was born a healer. I told you that. But we had other healers— my father, my aunt and cousins. We were lucky. Some generations have none at all, and then when people get ill or injured…” He shrugged. “Anyhow, we have a tradition that if we are rich in healers, we send one here, to the edge, to find those who are cast out from the city. That’s why this cabin was built long ago. City dwellers don’t arrive often, but when they do, they land very close to this spot. And then I try to save them. Some I can’t help. They’re already dead when I find them or too far gone for my skills. But a few have survived.” He gla
nced up at Enitan and gave a quick grin.

  Enitan briefly pictured himself flying through the air like an ungainly bird, then crashing to the ground at Rig’s feet. “How do you know when someone… when someone lands?”

  “I hear them scream,” Rig answered quietly.

  “Oh.” Enitan shuddered. “But why bother? We’ve all been condemned. We’re unredeemable.”

  It was Rig’s turn to snort. “I believe anyone can be redeemed. The people I’ve saved and the ones my predecessors saved, they joined the village once they were healed. And sure, some were disagreeable. A few were violent. But the same is true for some of us. Most settled in among us. They bring fresh blood, new ideas. I think the newcomers have saved us from dying out.”

  “But—”

  “They’re human beings, Enitan. They deserve a chance.” Rig smiled. “You too.”

  “You don’t even know what crime I was convicted of.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  And that was that for now, apparently, because Rig let go of Enitan’s legs and walked to the fire. He kept his back turned until Enitan fell asleep.

  ****

  It took nearly a week of several daily healing sessions before Rig declared Enitan strong enough to venture outside. He made sure Enitan ate well first, and as they crossed the floor, he hovered anxiously at Enitan’s side. “Lean on me if you feel weak,” he ordered. “Don’t overtax yourself. And your feet will feel tender. I’m sorry I haven’t any shoes to fit you.”

  Enitan was so eager to see anything but the same four walls that he would have happily walked over hot coals. But he didn’t say so. He just carefully placed one foot in front of the other until he came to the door, then held his breath when Rig opened it.

  He expected something different from the city. This was the Downs, after all. But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. “Trees!” he exclaimed.

  Some trees grew in the city, of course, but all of them were stunted and spindly and planted in orderly configurations. His family had four in their garden, a fact that had always made Minna very proud. Wealthier families had more. And in a few scattered parks, Council employees carefully tended additional trees— watering, trimming, inspecting them obsessively for pests or disease.