Part 40 (1/2)
You will! River said. Mother didn't save you only to have Father kill you with his reckless ways.
It's just one hole.
Close it!
Talen mustered the last of his strength and tried to close the rent. And to his surprise he felt it narrow and then shut up tight as boiled leather.
He slumped in the tub. Tired. He was deathly tired. And thirsty. But the ragged edge of his weariness was dulled.
Talen opened his eyes. Most of the water had sloshed out of the trough to the floor. River's tunic and pants were soaked all down the front. She slumped alongside the trough, and heaved a sob of relief.
Nettle and the girl stood behind her, their faces slack with confusion and shock. Talen started to say something to Nettle, but his exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he closed his eyes.
Talen woke and found himself in River's bed. Someone had slipped small heated sacks of grain under the covers next to him to keep him warm.
He could see through the shutters that it was still dark outside. On the floor beside the bed stood a jug of water. Talen slowly sat up. His head swam, and he clutched it until the dizziness pa.s.sed. He grabbed the jug and took a long drink.
When he finished, River stood in the doorway.
They were caught, all of them. In a black web of slethery. ”I don't know that I want to hear it,” said Talen.
”It's too late for that,” said River. She walked in and sat beside him on the bed. ”How do you feel?”
”Awful,” said Talen. ”But not as bad as before.”
Nettle came to the doorway. ”So he's not dead yet? There goes my wager.”
”Ha,” said Talen.
Nettle grinned.
”Are you well enough to travel?” asked River.
”I don't know,” he said.
”Well, it doesn't matter. We have to leave tonight.”
”What do you mean?”
”Ke has come and gone since you slept. They're holding Da in Whitecliff.”
”The Council?”
”He's been accused of being sleth.”
Talen recoiled.
”Talen,” said River. ”I need you to listen to me, and I need you to be calm.”
He waited.
She took a breath then said, ”You know how Mother died.”
Talen nodded. She'd died in the pox plague year. Died of stress and worry.
”You think you know: laid into the ground, she was, without a blemish upon her. Perfect and whole, broken with grief for her little boy who was covered with the ugly rash, all blisters and pus. This is what you think, but grief did not break her, brother. Grief could not have broken that woman, not in a million years.”
She paused.
”It was love that broke her. Your little body was consumed with sores. Da called every healer he knew; we tried every herb known to have any effect. We danced and sacrificed to the ancestors. But the disease only grew. And so Mother and Da did what any loving parents would do. They gave their days to make you whole.”
Surely, she was talking about a Divine's gift. ”They went to the temple?” he said.
River shook her head, and dread washed over him.
”You were broken in body and soul. Da could not see how to heal you and steeled himself to losing you. He had given up. After all, many families lose one here or there. But Mother would not give up. She saw possibilities invisible to him. You struggled a week, then two. Everyone marveled at your spirit. But then Da discovered one night it was more than your tenacity keeping you alive. He caught Mother pouring her life into you. Her Fire flowed through you and held you together. And when you finally vanquished the disease, she was spent. A whole lifetime spent in two weeks.”
River smiled, but her eyes glistened in the dim candle light.
”She died in the morning the day after your fever broke, holding your hand.”
Talen could not speak.
”Do you understand what I'm saying?”
He nodded. But it just couldn't be.
”Your veins, brother, run, in very fact, with our mother's Fire.”
”But-”
”Shush,” said River. ”Mother said that parts of you, parts of your very weave were . . . twisted. Most of that she was able to heal. But as she delved into the fiber of your being, she found other parts that defied her knowledge. Parts she that said were complex, beautiful, unlike anything she'd ever encountered. There are things about you she could not change. Things she dared not change.”
He glanced at Nettle, but his expression was unreadable. Then the sleth girl came and stood in the doorway.
River said, ”At the end, she was half mad with the effort. She kept telling us she needed to find the flaw. She thought you were perfect. We've all been waiting to see what you would become, to see what gifts the wisterwives had bestowed.”
Talen felt lost. It was all too much. Wisterwives, sleth, weaves. ”n.o.body's seen a wisterwife,” said Talen.
”They are elusive, but Mother and Da found the charm.”
”The charm? You mean that odd necklace she used to make me wear?”
”The very same. Legs has it now. Mother gave it to Purity when he was born, thinking it might still have some virtue.”
”It was yours?” the girl asked in confusion.
River nodded. ”Mother woke early one morning to find the shutters to her room open and the mosquitoes buzzing about her face. The charm was lying on the chair inside the Creator's wreath. Something had taken the wreath from above the door to the house and brought it inside. Mother looked out the window. A troop of ferrets stood about the yard gazing at her, still as stone. They stood for some time, considering her in silence like wise little men. And then, just before the light broke above the hills, the little creatures turned and disappeared into the forest. Mother conceived Talen with that charm about her neck, and he wore it for the first few years of his life. But when Legs was born, she thought it had a better purpose.”