Horrific

Llew woke to voices outside and thumps and bumps. Gentle thumps, like people trying not to make too much noise. And the voices were mostly steady, also kept low, only now and then rising in volume and speed. Excited. One of the voices belonged to Rowan. Llew didn’t recognize the others, but she probably wouldn’t know the voices of the two Turhmos soldiers who had gone to Hinden. She had to work to remember their names. Ivor and … Hopefully she would hear the other before she needed it, otherwise she would have to ask, and she wasn’t sure if that would be insulting. Probably.

By the sound of it, their supplies had arrived from Hinden. Most excellent.

Already smiling, Llew felt a pressure in her belly and her smile broadened as she relived Jonas’s and her time by the river just the day before. Too soon for a baby to settle. Too soon after Raena’s home? Maybe not. Perhaps she had been carrying Jonas’s child all this time. Perhaps today was the day she would feel its presence and gain its powers. Might today be the day that it and the Ajnais outside could help set things right?

Jonas’s ministrations by the river might not have resulted in the seed for this child, but they were well worth recalling. Strong or weak, Jonas’s touch was certainly magic.

Supplies and a baby to break the Aenuk-Karan barrier? It was going to be a grand day.

She sat up and swung her legs off the bed and felt something in her belly drop, and a dampness beneath her.

Oh. Oh no.

She stood, clamping her bare thighs together and inspected the sheet where she had just sat. Not so bad. A slight reddish-brown smudge on the off-white linen. She reached behind her, locating a wet patch on her chemise, and her fingertips returned with a smear of blood. A little piece of her heart broke.

“Uh.” She redoubled her thigh clamp. “Help?” She said it quietly, not really wanting help – well, not wanting to need help – and Karlani brushed aside the heavy curtain and stepped into the bedroom, alert; first looking to Jonas’s form on the bed, then Llew.

Jonas also rolled over, his effort speaking of exhaustion. His lazy eye shifted between Llew and Karlani, questioning. It seemed he didn’t have the energy to voice a query.

“Please, don’t make a fuss, but I need …”

“You need … some stuff,” Karlani agreed. “Do you mind if I ask Elka? She’ll have a place for those things.”

Llew sighed. “Fine.”

She dared not move while Karlani was away. Thankfully Karlani’s Syakaran speed brought her back swiftly with a belted wad of clean linen in hand.

“Get—” Llew started as she accepted the awkward gift.

“—Jonas out to the trees,” Karlani finished for her. “On it.”

Llew fitted the belt, donned a clean shift and camouflaged herself in one of Merrid’s less shapely dresses. Only when she was seated at the base of an Ajnai and Delwynn was administering the first syringe of blood to a listless Jonas did Llew finally let herself process and accept: she did not carry Jonas’s child. There would be no miracle cure today.

Her jaw ached from the effort of holding back her tears. What good would crying do? They hadn’t been counting on a baby saving the day, anyway. In fact, Llew had been doubting she could have babies after Aris’s attack, which meant this was a good thing. Her body was whole. She should be happy. But for a brief few moments, she’d thought all of this – the needle pierced her skin again – was over, that she could heal Jonas with touch alone and they could make their way to the Taither tree where they could figure out how to get that tree to help Jonas heal close to fully. If she had carried his child might she have been able to return his Syakaran powers right here on the farm?

Emotionally flat, Llew let her gaze settle on watching the Turhmosian soldiers, Karlani, and Alvaro empty Ard’s low-sided cart, carrying heavy sacks into the kitchen or to the cool sheds behind the house. That was something, at least. Their supplies had arrived. It would alleviate worries about food. Llew sighed, shifted so she leaned a bare arm into the tree, stretched out her legs and let herself slump dejectedly.

Food was good. Great, even. Karlani would be pleased.

Damn it . Deal in realities, Llew. Despite Jonas’s poor health, he lived, and there was still a chance he could be healed to the point of having his Syakaran powers back.

It dawned on her that it wasn’t a child she mourned, but the easy mechanism to heal Jonas. As much as she’d been prepared to love the children she’d carried months earlier, this wasn’t them, and she’d never sought to be a mother in the near term, anyway. She still wished she had her own.

No healing Jonas through touch alone with the aid of an Ajnai tree but, despite being in the heart of Turhmos, they had found support. Friends even. Such things could be considered miracles in their own right, so she’d heard.

Cheer hadn’t been the kind of town to foster much of a belief in gods, though preachers of one sort or another had arrived with promises of saving souls. Street kids had never needed or deserved saving, though, only the men digging gold. Only ever having seen souls saved in exchange for a small jar of flakes or a tiny nugget, Llew had never thought much of these men of the gods, had never witnessed a different outcome for the miners who’d handed over such levies and those that didn’t. And she’d never figured what gods would want with gold.

Could they desire the freedom of the Aenuks, even absent gold?

She rolled her eyes. How presumptuous to believe she, Llew, had attracted the attention of a god?

Reality. All she had was what she had before her. Shelter, food, and many hands helping. A lover. A hero. And her blood keeping him alive.

Several syringefuls later, Jonas sat straighter. They didn’t speak. Having the energy to sit and having energy to celebrate good health, or even sustain a conversation were two very different states. A little more patience was required. A little more blood.

Rowan approached, a grin on his face and valise hanging from a hand.

“I wasn’t sure if he could do it, but it seems money talks, or that Lord Gaemil has a persuasive manner. Either way, he did it.” He placed the leather satchel beside Llew and crouched to open it, half lifting metal parts from the bag to show them off without handling them too much. “With this, we can hook you directly to Jonas, and let the blood flow without the pause to fill and empty syringes. It should speed this process up and make it safer. It won’t exactly make the process fun, but should make it more efficient, which is almost the same thing, eh?”

Llew spared a laugh. It was good news.

“It’s called a Gravinator. Elka said they advertise them in Ma’s medical journals, though Ma hasn’t got around to getting one, yet. She might have to. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if the Hinden doctor would have one, either, but thankfully he did and Lord Gaemil got him to part with it. This is progress.” He looked at Jonas, who rolled his shoulders, still largely in his own head. “Still early days, but we’re getting there.” Something passed across his face, then he turned a smile on Llew, seemingly meant to reassure. It didn’t. “You been counting?” He lowered his voice.

“No.” Llew also spoke quietly, though with Jonas sitting so close, she doubted he couldn’t hear them. “It’s taking more, isn’t it?” She wasn’t surprised. They’d figured Jonas would continue to deteriorate. Still, Llew couldn’t deny she’d held a spark of hope that these blood transfers might fight back against Braph’s bug somehow.

Hope. Slipping through her fingers.

Rowan shrugged, watched Delwynn hand a syringe to Garnoc and step back, flexing his fingers. “I wasn’t paying close attention.” He turned back to Llew. “Seems so, though.”

Especially as their conversation failed to elicit a response from Jonas himself.

Rowan patted the leather bag. “But this, this is going to help. I promise. I’ll talk to Elka about the finer details of getting it set up out here and we’ll get your blood flowing.” He flashed an empty smile, though there was sincerity in it, too.

“Thank you.” And Llew did feel lighter for knowing they had a better option in front of them. Maybe they could keep up with Braph’s bug. Maybe this was the hope she needed.

***

Taither was becoming more pleasant day by day. Just enough people to keep services ticking over, but not over-crowded. No doubt, animated discussions were happening behind the walls of the military base, but that was of little consequence to Braph. He had a lover and son to take care of, and Taither’s restaurants were hungry for custom. And, yes, Orin was just plain hungry. That boy could put food away.

The restaurant they’d enjoyed dinner at the previous night had taken extra care to ensure Orin’s satisfaction, especially when the family’s discussions turned to future meals.

They had not, however, chosen to return to that establishment for breakfast, with Braph preferring to spread good will far and wide while he could. The more people out there wishing he and his family good health, the easier everything became. Taither’s culture had been built around its military training facility and Karan child-rearing. With Kara of all ages currently in hiding – despite the flying machines’ disinterest in those under eight – the mundane folk who kept the city alive no matter the contemporary tensions with Turhmos were open to the idea that average Turhmosian’s themselves might be decent people, at least if they traveled in Braph’s company.

And so the family had eaten breakfast in the restaurant attached to their overnight accommodation – a fairly decent inn that was at least clean and had accepted promise of payment at the end of their unspecified stay – charging the food to their room.

On their way back to the garden, Braph called into a hardware store. While he still didn’t carry Quaven currency, he retained the knack for assuring people his credit was good, and he emerged from the store with a pair of new drills, copper bowls with handles, a large metal pot, several spiles, and a gas cooker large enough for the pot to sit on.

Orin was excited to explore his developing Karan powers that, while still inferior to Braph, gave him natural speed that could rival an adult who trained to improve and show off such things. Braph had never seen the point in such exertion when one could use one’s brain and a little donated blood to achieve the same. He did understand his son’s desire to explore his natural advantages, and especially appreciated it when it meant Orin was keen to assist with tree drilling.

Orinia, however, was less enthusiastic as Braph and his son began their work on the tree, both drilling at the same time, fixing spiles in place, and hooking bowls on to catch the sap. After watching the lighting display, her mouth hanging open in abject horror, she took herself to the far edge of the garden and set about actually killing plants she decided didn’t belong in the soil here, ripping them out roots and all and leaving them to dry in the sun. How that was less horrific than drilling small holes in a tree that would still be standing at the end of the day, Braph could not fathom. Not that he had a fondness for the weeds. Tree, weed, whatever. They were all just plants sitting around doing nothing, waiting to be eaten by an animal, rotted by some fungus or bacteria, or put to use by a human.

Little matter. While Orinia kept herself occupied and her emotions to herself, Braph could focus on his work.

Two drills in the hands of Braph and Orin made for speedy work and saved magic for when it was needed. They soon had ten holes tapped, each dripping into a copper bowl. At that point, Braph placed his hands on the bark and pushed magic into the tree, speeding up the flows for several minutes until the drips ran dry. They worked the spiles free before the tree could heal around them, and started the process again.