Lore held in his arms a naked baby still crawling with ants the young man was frantically trying to brush off. The infant’s flesh was red, swollen, covered with nasty-looking bites. Her face was so swollen Ed couldn’t see her features. No longer wailing, she seemed to be struggling to breathe, her tiny chest heaving.
“Hurry, damn you! Can’t you see she’s dying?”
Ed grasped Lore’s arm and pictured the room in which Kyla and her friends were gathered, waiting, depending on him. After returning there along with Lore and the infant, he’d come right back here. But he couldn’t think of that now, he reminded himself sternly. He had to concentrate on going there, where healers were waiting to save the child.
It seemed to Ed that he and Lore remained standing for hours, still as statues, going nowhere, the heat of the scorched land rising around them, the baby’s gasping breaths fading into silence. If he didn’t reach the healers in time, Marta would never forgive him.
He shut his eyes, closing out the sight of the ruined land and the dying infant, only visualizing Kyla, Veronica, Abigail, the others, waiting in that room that suddenly seemed so small, so far away. He couldn’t remember the details. Concentrate on Kyla’s face, he told himself. Shut out everything else.
“At last!” Kyla’s voice.
Ed opened his eyes in time to see Abigail grab the infant from Lore’s arms and Veronica place her hands on the child while Abigail rocked her. He stood, fascinated, as Veronica’s skin reddened and swelled, welts appearing on her and on Abigail, while Leah reached in to brush off the vicious ants and stomp on them.
Abigail cried out in pain, and Leah had to support her arms to prevent her from dropping her precious burden. Veronica’s face wore a grimace of pain and her hands shook, but she did not lift them from the infant, whose flesh was losing its fiery red tone and returning to a healthy pink even as Veronica’s and Abigail’s skin continued to redden and swell.
That meant the healing was going well. Veronica and Abigail were taking into themselves the poison the ants had injected and the pain they caused. That was how healing went; they would draw all the illness from little Dreama into their own bodies, and then disperse it. No need to watch longer—they’d saved the baby. He had to find Marta.
But having seen the land he could no longer think of as his, it occurred to him to supply himself with a canteen or water bottle. Skirting the healers, he reached Leah and whispered the request into her ear. She nodded, and without taking her eyes off Abigail, she told him where to find what he needed. Following her instructions, he went into the kitchen, filled two water bottles, and found a sack to carry them in.
He willed himself back to his violated land, shuddering again as he pictured the devastation. Finding Marta was his first priority, but after that he’d dedicate himself to healing the land.
Immediately on reaching his destination he looked for signs of her passage. He spotted her footprint in the dry creek bed, crossed it, and soon found other prints, easily visible in the dust. She must be heading toward the abandoned building. He quickened his pace. If he hurried, maybe he could catch up to her before she reached that site.
Renni stood near the wall, away from the healers, away from Ed, and, especially, away from Kyla. As usual, no one was paying any attention to her. Zauna was again seated in front of her crystal ball, but instead of looking into it she watched the process of healing. Lore also focused his attention on the healers, Renni was pleased to note. She, on the other hand, watched Ed. She couldn’t hear what he whispered to Leah, but her gaze followed him as he headed for the kitchen.
A sudden intuition led her to move quickly to Petros’s side, bend down, and whisper into the disabled man’s ear, “Can you send your consciousness with Ed and stay with him? We can’t risk losing him again.”
He nodded. “Good idea,” he said, and immediately a far-away look came into his eyes. He’d followed her suggestion. She wished she knew what had happened when Petros gave a start, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself by questioning him. His eyes remained unfocused, his face slack. Wherever Ed was, Petros’s mind was with him. Satisfied that she had accomplished that much, Renni was content to wait until Petros was able to tell her and the rest what Ed was up to.
From his position on his wheeled platform, Petros couldn’t see what the healers were doing. He could have sent his consciousness into Veronica or Abigail or someone near them in order to witness up close the healing of little Dreama, but it felt too much like spying. Still, it was frustrating not to be able to see the healing process unfold. Renni’s suggestion appealed to him. Sending his consciousness to keep track of Ed might be interpreted as spying, too, but Renni was right about not wanting to lose him again.
So he sent his consciousness into Ed and watched as Ed found and filled two water bottles, placed them into a canvas tote, and slung its straps over his shoulder. Although he’d guessed what Ed was about to do, it still jolted him when suddenly instead of the large, airy kitchen filled with fading aromas of the food Kyla had served her guests for the Naming-Day celebration, a hot, dry, desert stretched before him. Only the twisted trunks of long-dead trees broke the monotony of the rolling sand dunes that continued to the far horizon. On that horizon a haze partially obscured what might be hills or could be only clouds. Petros wasn’t privy to Ed’s thoughts; his talent didn’t work that way. He could only observe what Ed did and draw conclusions from his actions. He saw Ed stoop and examine a footprint that had to be Marta’s, so he guessed Ed was following a trail he hoped would lead to her.
As Petros traveled along with Ed, an unobserved hitchhiker, he sensed the discomfort his host must feel due to the heat and the extreme aridity. Even though he couldn’t feel the heat himself, he judged how hot and dehydrating it had to be to walk through this lifeless desert by the number of times Ed paused to take a swallow or two from his water bottle and how often he wiped the sweat from his face. But Ed never stopped for more than a couple of minutes except once when he stooped to remove one shoe, dump sand out of it, then repeat the process with the other. Another swallow from his water bottle, and then off he went again.
At last Petros spied something different in the distance. What he’d at first taken for a pile of rocks took on the form of an abandoned and crumbling building. Ed must have seen it before Petros did. They were now headed directly toward it. But as they drew closer, Ed slowed, studied the ground. Yes, Petros could see them—footprints turning away from the building and heading off in another direction. Ed shaded his eyes and gazed off in that new direction. Petros could see nothing, but Ed headed that way, anyway, following the prints that must be Marta’s.
Because Ed’s gaze focused on the ground, searching for prints, Petros echoed mentally Ed’s cry of horror when he looked up and beheld a strange and terrifying sight. At first glance it looked like a fountain of sparkling water, with Marta standing in its center. But Marta, her hands upraised like a statue, did not move, nor did the supposed water. And when Ed reached out and touched it, Petros felt his shock and heard him mutter, “It’s waxy, like the paraffin Marta uses when she cans vegetables.”
Ed called Marta’s name, but, held motionless in the false fountain, she probably couldn’t hear—if indeed she lived. Ed dropped his pack with the canteens and pressed against the substance that looked like water but wasn’t. It gave slightly beneath his fists but bounded back as soon as he released the pressure. He pressed harder. Petros could sense the tremendous effort Ed was putting forth to no avail. Defeated, he dropped his arms to his side.
“Maybe I can dig through it,” he muttered, “if I can just find something to dig with.”
“I’d be upset if you damaged my lovely sculpture,” a voice behind them boomed.
Ed whirled around.
A tall figure loomed over them. Ed stared at the face peering down at them and laughing. What Petros saw through Ed’s eyes was a skeletal form, flesh stretched taut over bone, a face little more than a skull with eye
s, the deeply tanned flesh so near the color of old bone that at first Petros believed he was seeing a skeleton. But the eyes were startlingly alive, filled with a fiery glee that made Petros want to withdraw from Ed. He resisted that impulse. He would not give in to cowardice and fail Ed at this most crucial time.
Ed reacted first with a sharp intake of breath and then with the pronouncing of a single name: “Jerome!”
“Ah, yes, you recognize me, fool. You thought you were finished with me forever when you left me stuck in this land that you so stupidly called yours. But if any part of it ever was your land, it’s all mine now. How do you like what I’ve done to it?”
Petros could not read minds, but he felt the rage boiling inside Ed’s.
“What have you done to my wife?” Ed demanded.
“Oh, is that your wife? The former wonder worker? More fool she, to have married a simpleton like you. I see you’ve grown a beard. It doesn’t make you appear any smarter. Still the simpleton, you’ve abandoned your wife here just as you did me.
The poor woman was so thirsty and tired, I took pity on her and led her to this fountain. But somehow, when she reached it and plunged her hands into the water, she was pulled in farther, and the water solidified around her. Never did get the drink she craved. No, she’s not dead. She can’t move, can’t talk, but she’s aware of everything. She can see you. She knows you’ve come for her. Wave to her, why don’t you?”
Ed did not wave, but Petros felt him trying to do something, take some action. He tried to channel power to Ed, though he had little to spare, needing all his strength to keep his consciousness with Ed over such a great distance. Was distance the right term for whatever separated this odd, dead world from what Petros thought of as “the real world”?
Sparks shot from Ed’s hands to fall harmlessly at the feet of the creature Ed had called Jerome. Ed shook his head, and his gaze fastened on Marta. Petros guessed by the strain he felt that Ed was trying to transport her from the fountain and bring her to his side. She remained firmly fixed in the odd substance. Had Jerome spoken the truth when he’d said she was alive and aware? Not even her eyes moved. Her fixed stare and frozen expression of terror could have been those of a corpse.
But Jerome, apparently aware of what Ed was attempting, said, “What a pity, Eddie. She can’t join you. But to show you how thoughtful and considerate I am, I’ll make it possible for you to join her.”
He flicked a finger toward the fountain, and for just a moment it became water, sparkling in the harsh sunlight. And for a fatal second, struck by the sudden beauty, Petros failed to act, to withdraw and hurtle back to his own body. For in that fatal second, Ed, reaching toward Marta, plunged into the fountain, and, as he reached her side, the water returned to its solid state. Ed was trapped beside Marta. Then Petros tried to withdraw, only to discover that he, too, was trapped. He could not leave Ed’s mind.
CHAPTER TEN
ERRANDS
Veronica lay on the floor, cushioned against Abigail. She had held Dreama in her arms until Kyla bent and took the infant, now completely healed, from her. The pain that had accompanied the healing had left, but now she felt drained, empty of power and empty even of the energy it would require to rise to her feet. Dreama had been so near death from all the ant bites that the healing sapped all Veronica’s strength and probably all of Abigail’s as well. If they both had not been here and able to work together, neither of them could have done it on her own.
So when she heard someone call out, “Something’s wrong with Petros!” she groaned. If someone else needed healing, it was too bad. Neither she nor Abigail would be able to do anything about it. She closed her mind to the sudden stir and concentrated on gathering her strength. But she had none to gather.
Someone—she opened her eyes just enough to see that it was Renni—bent over her. “Marchion Blandry is sharing power with Abigail,” Renni said. “Ask him to share with you. I think you need it more than she does.”
Veronica remembered that Mr. Blandry was a power enhancer. But she lacked the strength to ask him. She could only manage to whisper to Renni, “You ask.”
Renni must have done so, because a sudden infusion of power hit her body like a charge of electricity, and her mind cleared. She could sit up and look around. Kyla held Dreama and rocked her while standing near Petros. Zauna gazed into her crystal ball, but the others had gathered around Petros. Renni came back to her side. “Need a hand up?”
Veronica nodded and reached out; Renni clasped her arm and steadied her as she rose to her feet. “Ed’s not back yet?” she asked.
“No, but right now everybody’s worried about Petros.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I know what’s wrong, but I’m scared to tell them. I know they’ll get mad at me.”
Veronica frowned. “Why? What ‘d you do now?”
Still whispering, Renni said, “I suggested he send his consciousness into Ed so he could keep track of him, and he did it. So he can’t respond to anybody here because his mind is with Ed, wherever that is.”
“That wasn’t a bad idea,” Veronica admitted rather grudgingly.
Renni shrugged. “I know they’d say it wasn’t my place to tell him that. But I figured that way we could know what was happening with Ed and whether he found Marta.”
Veronica hadn’t forgotten that she was angry with Renni for taking Ed’s memories without telling her or anybody else that she was going to do it. But she’d made her own serious mistakes. Maybe she should regard Renni as an ally. “Shouldn’t Petros be able to tell us something?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t really know how that consciousness transfer thing works.”
“Well, it isn’t really a transfer. That would mean he’d be in Ed’s body and Ed’s mind would be in his. I don’t know of anybody who can do that. Petros’s consciousness just goes along with Ed, but he can draw it back at any time. And I think he can tell us things, though it would kind of sound like he was talking in his sleep. Hasn’t he said anything?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“Let’s see what we can find out.” Veronica headed toward those gathered around Petros.
Renni put her hand on Veronica’s arm, holding her back. “Don’t tell them what I told you. Please.”
“I won’t,” Veronica said. But she didn’t promise.
She pushed past Lore and Winnie to get close to Petros. He was no longer sitting up on his wheeled platform, nor was he merely slumped over. He had toppled off and was lying on the floor beside it. Abigail had bent over him. As Veronica reached her side, she grasped Veronica’s arm for support and stood, shaking her head. “It’s nothing I can heal,” she said. “It’s like he isn’t even there. He’s sent his consciousness somewhere, I’d guess.”
“But in that case, he shouldn’t have collapsed like that,” Kyla said, rocking Dreama. “He shouldn’t be completely unreachable.”
“What about if he sent it with Ed?” Veronica asked. “Maybe going to another plane would make him unreachable.”
Kyla frowned and started to say something, but at that moment Dreama let out a loud wail, quickly followed by another. And another.
“She’s hungry,” Kyla said. “We’ve got to find milk for her.”
“There’s usually someone selling goats in the market in the old quarter by the waterfront,” Leah said. “Shall I go and see if there’s a nanny goat available? I’m not really needed here.”
“That’s not so,” Abigail objected. “I need you.”
Aunt Abigail hated for Aunt Leah to be away from her. Why was she selfish that way? Aunt Leah was right. Since she had no magic, she could be spared more readily than anyone else. But Veronica kept her thought to herself.
“All right, then. We do need someone who can go and get back quickly.” Kyla bounced the infant in her arms as she spoke, trying to quiet the squalling child. “Veronica, you go. I’ll give you money for the goat if you’ll hold Dreama while I go get it.”
Gi
ving Veronica no chance to respond, she thrust the screaming baby into Veronica’s arms and hurried from the room. While she was gone, Winnie came and took the child from Veronica, saying, “Let me try to calm her.”
Veronica gave her a grateful smile, only too glad to let the wailing child be someone else’s responsibility. In Winnie’s arms the child quieted and sucked her thumb, letting out sad little whimpers but no longer screaming.
Aunt Kyla returned with a leather purse, which she handed to Veronica. “You’ll have to hurry to get there before the market closes,” she said.
“What if the goat seller isn’t there?” Veronica asked.
“He’s been there every time I’ve gone to the market,” Kyla answered, frowning. “He just has to be there this afternoon.”
“I’ll go with her,” Renni volunteered. “Goats aren’t easy to handle. She’ll need help.”
“And what do you know about goats?” Kyla snapped.
“Plenty,” Renni said. “I was brought up on a farm. I was sixteen when my folks sold the farm and moved to Port-of-Lords, but up until then I helped raise goats and chickens and a couple of horses.”
Aunt Kyla’s open-mouthed reaction almost made Veronica laugh. She could hardly refuse to let Renni go, after that revelation. Veronica sensed that Kyla mistrusted the girl and was still angry with her for having taken Ed’s memories of coming here and of planning to raise Dreama as his and Marta’s child. But Kyla hadn’t seen the state Ed was in back in the arbor in the park, helpless with grief. What Renni did allowed him to function, to take action again. Where he was now and what he was doing she didn’t know, but she hoped he’d found Marta and the two of them were dealing with Jerome.
As she and Renni headed for the door, Veronica had a thought. “We’ve all been in the market. We’ve seen the goats there. Why can’t Lore bring a goat to us?”
Lore laughed. “Transport a goat? Are you crazy? I don’t have that much power. Especially not after using as much as I did to get the baby to Ed. I haven’t had a chance to let my power build up, but even if it was at full strength, I don’t think I could transport a goat. Sorry, girls, you’re on your own.”
A Mix of Magics (Arucadi: The Beginning Book 3) Page 7
