4: Witches' Blood (18 page)

 
They needed needles in the infirmary as well. John walked across town to the open streets of the Smiths’ Rows. Most of the goods were crude. Rough knife blades, ax heads, bicycle chains, and scythes were common. It was only among the cases of delicate gold and silver jewelry that John at last found medical instruments. He chose twenty of the finest silver needles. Then, out of curiosity, he looked over the other devices in the medical cases.

John picked up an instrument that resembled a pair of surgical scissors. There was an odd wire loop up by the blades. He frowned at it.

“Gelding shears,” a familiar voice supplied from behind John.

He turned to see Bill grinning at him. A faint tan colored his skin and his thin frame showed traces of muscle. John couldn’t remember him looking so well since they had left Nayeshi. Laurie’s spells were making obvious improvements in his health.

“We just heard that the ushvun’im had come down for supplies. I figured I should see if I could hunt you down.” Bill eyed the shears in John’s hand. “Looking for just the right gift for that special someone?”

“Something like that.” John set the shears aside.

“Do you think you have time for a lunch break?” Bill asked.

“Sure. I’m done here.” John shrugged. When neither the prior nor an ushman accompanied them, the ushvun'im tended to be lax. They rarely paired off or bothered to supervise each other’s activities. So long as he got back to the church hostel before dark, no one would care what he did with the remaining free hours of the afternoon.

“Good. Loshai is dying to talk to you.”

“How’s she doing?” John stowed the needles in his pack and then swung it up onto his back. “Is her stomach still bothering her?’

“Oh yeah.” Bill looked almost pleased. “Apparently, it comes with the territory.”

“What?” John frowned at the reply.

“I think she wants to tell you herself,” Bill said quietly.

John decided not to ask anything more, not out here on the open street where they could be overheard.

He suspected that Laurie’s recent bouts of sickness were linked to the spells she poured over Bill. John didn’t know much about working a healing spell, but he had been watching Hann’yu for more than a year now. Hann’yu always chose another priest—generally John—to bear the brunt of the wounds he treated; Laurie only had her own strength to call on. It had to wear her down.

 
“We’ve heard that things are moving along in Rathal’pesha,” Bill commented as they crossed the street.

“So I’m told,” John said. He guessed that Fikiri had been keeping them informed.

The walk to the Bousim house went quickly. They only had to pause once, halfway up a steep hill, for Bill to catch his breath.

“Oh yeah, feeling the burn,” Bill whispered between deep breaths. “I have no idea how other people walk around all day long.”

“It’s not nearly as easy as it looks.”

“Tell me about it.” Bill straightened. “Okay, let’s not keep the ladies waiting.”

John followed Bill to the Bousim house and up to one of the more elegant chambers of the second floor where Lady Bousim preferred to receive her guests.

Breads, fruit, and cuts of lamb had been laid out on the long wooden table. Thinner tapestries embroidered with images of summer flowers and fruit-laden trees hung in the place of the heavier tapestries that had insulated the room the last time John had visited.

Lady Bousim greeted John with a smile as he followed Bill in. Laurie beamed at him from the seat to Lady Bousim’s right. A healthy blush colored her skin and she’d at last put on enough weight to make her slim figure truly feminine. Her eyes were bright.

John grinned at her, feeling overwhelmed with relief to see her looking more than well—radiant, in fact.

 
The other two attendants, Ohbi and Inholima, sat to Lady Bousim’s left. They bowed their heads when John entered the room. Ohbi’s glossy black hair had grown even longer than John remembered. Clusters of sliver beads and ribbons hardly held back all of her twisting braids.

Of the four women, only Inholima appeared ill. A sallow tone pervaded her once golden skin and dark purple bags hung beneath her eyes. She smiled faintly, showing the small gap between her front two teeth. Most disconcertingly, the tinge of oxygen-starved blue that had once colored Bill’s mouth now saturated Inholima’s lips.

John suddenly had a terrible idea of who had been chosen to bear the brunt of Bill’s illness.

He knew Inholima was a spy, placed in Lady Bousim’s entourage by Lord Bousim. If she were to ever discover the witchcraft that Lady Bousim, Laurie and Ohbi practiced, she could get them all killed. So John could see why they wouldn’t hesitate to make her weak and ill.

Still, just sitting there at the table, she seemed young and pathetic. It made John feel sorry for her in spite of himself.

“Ushvun Jahn.” Lady Bousim waved him to a seat at the table. “Is it possible that you have grown even more handsome? It is such a delight to see you again.”

“Thank you, Lady Bousim.” John bowed to her.

“Tell me, how is Ushman Hann’yu?”

He had almost forgotten that the two of them knew each other. His memories of last year’s Harvest Fair had been so dominated by the witch burning and his fight with Rasho Tashtu that he hadn’t remembered introducing the two of them.

“He’s well,” John told her. “A little overworked, but well.”

“You must inform him that I am anxiously looking forward to this Harvest Fair so that we can talk again.”

“I will.”

Inholima cupped her hand over her mouth and coughed. It was a sticky, gasping sound. She looked embarrassed at the ugliness of it.

“My dear,” Lady Bousim said to Inholima, “are you sure you’re well enough to be out of bed?”

“You look terrible,” Ohbi said softly.

“Maybe you should rest,” Laurie added.

“I don’t think I could stand much more bed rest. Lying on my back all day, I feel like I’m withering away.” Inholima smiled weakly. “I want to stay up at least long enough to hear Behr play.”

Bill glanced to Inholima. “That’s flattering. I had no idea you liked it so much.”

“It’s soothing,” Inholima said.

“Well, if Lady Bousim doesn’t object, I’d be happy to play for you,” Bill said.

“Of course you should play, Behr,” Lady Bousim said. She turned easily to John. “You must try the white rolls. The flour was brought all the way from Milaun. They’re so soft, nothing like the tough bread you find around here.”

 
“Thank you.” John took a roll. It wouldn’t taste like anything to him. He added a slab of pale yellow cheese to his plate as well as several slices of lamb cutlet.

Bill walked across the room to where a polished wooden case lay on top of a small table. He opened the case and gently lifted out a mandolin-like instrument. John ate while Bill tuned the instrument. A few moments later Bill began playing. The music was simple and soothing. The melody struck John as familiar. He wondered if Bill had adapted it from some popular song from Nayeshi.

Inholima closed her eyes. Laurie quietly rose from her seat and stepped back behind Inholima. She gently set her hands on either side of the girl’s temples. Inholima glanced up and Laurie smiled down at her. Inholima closed her eyes again as Laurie massaged the sides of her head.

“Just relax and rest,” Laurie said quietly. “Sleep.”

John’s head snapped up as the last word escaped Laurie’s mouth. The air had seemed to shudder around her. He’d felt it. Inholima slumped forward. Laurie caught her, stopping her from falling flat onto the tabletop. Slowly, Laurie and Ohbi lowered Inholima down to the table and let her head rest there.

 
“Sleep, deaf, dumb, blind.” Laurie’s words seemed to distort the air like waves of heat. They poured from her mouth and wrapped around Inholima’s head. “Sleep, free of thought and mind.”

Inholima’s breathing suddenly slowed. Her head lolled to the side.

“I hadn’t even finished the first song.” Bill placed his hand against the strings of his instrument, silencing the notes.

“Jahn doesn’t have all day to wait for her to nod off on her own,” Laurie replied.

“Is she going to be all right?” John asked. Inholima looked like a corpse collapsed across the table.

“She’ll be fine,” Laurie assured him. “A little sleep isn’t going to hurt her.”

“Which is a pity, if you ask me.” Ohbi scowled at Inholima’s unconscious face.

“There’s no need to be cruel,” Lady Bousim said. “If it wasn’t Inholima, then it would just be another girl sent to spy on us.” She turned her attention back to John. “How is the bread?”

“Very soft,” John replied.

“I thought you would like it.” Lady Bousim smiled.

Laurie returned to her chair. She took several cuts of lamb and a sliced apple. Bill began playing again. John was almost positive that this time it was some variation on a Led Zeppelin song. They all seemed to take Inholima’s collapsed, unconscious form in stride. He wondered how often this happened.

“So, how much longer until the Great Gate will be opened?” Laurie asked.

“Soon,” John said quietly.

“She’s not going to wake up,” Ohbi said. “You don’t have to whisper.”

Suddenly John wondered just how many people Fikiri had told about their plan to leave.

“Soon as in a week or soon as in this year?” Laurie asked.

“I don’t think the issusha’im are good with exact dates,” John responded. “Soon is all they’ve been pinned down to as far as anyone seems to know. I would guess within the year.”

“Is there any way to hurry it along?” Laurie finished off the last of her lamb and frowned. She laid one hand against her belly.

“Your stomach’s still bothering you?” John asked.

Lady Bousim gave a silent shudder of laughter at this. John had no idea why. Both Ohbi and Laurie smiled at him. When he glanced to Bill, John saw that even he seemed amused.

“It’s still bothering me, but it should clear up in about nine months,” Laurie said.

“Nine…” Suddenly John realized why they were all looking so pleased. “You’re…” John began but then couldn’t go on. He hadn’t thought of this, and didn’t know what he should think of it. He stared at Laurie, stunned.

“Pregnant,” Laurie supplied.

“You’re going to be an uncle.” Bill clapped him on the shoulder. John simply stared at Laurie.

 
“So, you can see why I would want to know when we’re going to be crossing through the Great Gate,” Laurie told him. “That last trip through wasn’t exactly a roll in the hay.”

“Maybe if the hay was mixed into a stack of needles,” Bill suggested. He strummed the strings of his instrument softly.

 
“I don’t…” John began, but then trailed off. He glanced to Ohbi and then back to Laurie. He’d been so stunned by the news that he hadn’t wondered why they would be discussing Nayeshi in front of Ohbi and Lady Bousim. Both Bill and Laurie had just offhandedly mentioned their previous passage through the Great Gate.

The reason was obvious, John realized. They had informed Lady Bousim and Ohbi that they had come from Nayeshi. This meant Fikiri probably knew…

Laurie and Bill had to be planning to bring them all along. Fikiri must have told them that John had already agreed to it. John ran his hand across the back of his neck, massaging uselessly at the tense muscles there. Fikiri, Lady Bousim, Ohbi. Doubtless they would be planning to bring Ohbi’s brother, Bati’kohl, as well. John had no idea how Ravishan would manage to sneak three of them through the Great Gate unnoticed. Adding in Fikiri, his mother, Ohbi and her brother was simply impossible.

He knew he couldn’t say so, not in front of Lady Bousim and Ohbi. He had to find a time when he could talk to Laurie and Bill alone.

“I don’t know when,” John said. “It depends on the issusha’im. But from what we’ve heard, it sounds like the Kahlil will be leaving by the end of the year. Early in the next year at the latest.”

“Earlier would be better,” Laurie said. “I think I can protect our little girl as long as she’s inside me, but after that I don’t know.”
 

 
“How far along…” John wasn’t sure why he was having such difficulty even talking. It just seemed like so much to take in. He’d known Laurie since they were children themselves. He couldn’t imagine her as someone’s mother.

“Six weeks.” Laurie grinned at John’s awkwardness.

“That’s really early, isn’t it?” John asked. A distant memory of his developmental biology class floated up to him. The first month. At this point the fetus would be a clump of red pulsing cells clinging, fragile and microscopic. If it had been a root ball or mineral deposit, he would have been utterly at ease. Even in the animal realm contemplating gestation periods, rates of miscarriage and stillbirth, he was comfortable. But this was his friends’ child. The closeness of it made him feel nervous and uncertain.

“It’s early but I can feel her perfectly. She’s very strong,” Laurie assured him. “Still, I’d like it if we could leave in the fall.”

John stole a glance back to Bill and caught him gazing at Laurie with a wide, almost goofy smile.