Immortal (28 page)

“He has agreed.”

“Hah!” I clapped my hands.

“Agreed to come here at dusk, as we discussed. I will propose the plan to him then.”

I blinked. “Why didn't you just propose it over the phone?”

Madóran smiled wryly. “I know him. He will pay more attention if I address him in person. It is what he wants, after all.”

“You're not going to be alone with him!”

“No. I want everyone present. I intend to make him swear to leave all of you alone.”

“You think he'll keep that promise?”

“A pledge he makes to me, in person, I believe he will keep.”

The entryway door opened and Caeran came in. He looked from me to Madóran, and I wondered if he was maybe just a little jealous. I went to him.

“Gehmanin was at the bar. Madóran talked to him. He's coming here at dusk.”

Caeran's eyes narrowed. “So.”

“Will you tell the others?” Madóran asked him. “I need some time alone.”

The kettle began to sing. I hurried over to it, splashed some hot water into the teapot and swished it around.

“Very well,” Caeran said.

“I would like everyone to gather in the hall before dusk. We must all be together when Gehmanin comes.”

“All right.”

I emptied the water from the teapot, put in the strainer, and measured out tea as I'd seen Madóran do earlier. He turned and watched me pour boiling water into the pot.

“Go on, grab your alone time. We'll be all right.”

Madóran set his phone in the nicho and left by the west door. I glanced up at Caeran.

“Progress, I think.”

He smiled, though he still looked worried. He came over and slid his arms around my waist. A warm glow started in my stomach and crept up my chest.

“Um. I should keep an eye on the tea.”

“It needs a few minutes.”

He kissed me. I forgot about the tea, Madóran, the alben, everything. Only Caeran filled my awareness. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed against him, wanting more, wanting everything, here, now.

After a while he drew back. Smiling softly, he brushed a hand across my hair.

“The tea should be ready.”

I took a long breath. “Tease.”

Slightly dizzy, I turned back to the counter and lifted the strainer from the teapot. Looked like tea, smelled like tea. I put the pot on the tray, refilled the milk pitcher, and carried it to the front room, Caeran opening doors ahead of me.

A couple of people had left. The rest looked up as we came in. I poured tea while Caeran passed along Madóran's request. The discussion picked up where it had left off, and Caeran had the unenviable task of defending Madóran's plan, with which he didn't fully agree.

Wanting to recharge my phone, I grabbed my firewood bin from the corner and slipped out, hurrying along the
portal
to my room. I put the bin by the fireplace, unearthed the phone from my pack, then as an afterthought picked up my clothes from yesterday and headed for the kitchen via the laundry room.

This doing laundry every day sucked. I had to get some more clothes.

Tomorrow. If Madóran's plan worked, I could go to Las Vegas tomorrow. Or back to Albuquerque, maybe.

That seemed strange—I felt weirdly distant from home and school. But I had to go back to school. More than ever, now.

I headed for my room, but stopped when I opened the door to the
portal
. Madóran was standing by the fountain again. This time his arms were at his sides, and he must have been there a while, because the birds were playing in the water as if he didn't exist. Sunlight sparkled on the ripples and filled the courtyard with blinding brightness, making it a well of light.

I tried to step through the door slowly, but wasn't slow enough. The sudden thrumming of dozens of wings penetrated the glass wall as the birds swirled up and away. Madóran turned to look at me.

“Sorry,” I mouthed.

He smiled, shook his head slightly, and beckoned to me. It felt odd, going out into the area where I assumed he'd been praying or meditating or something like that. The snow grumbled under my sneakers as I joined him by the fountain.

“I didn't mean to disturb you,” I said.

“Nor have you. I was just thinking of you, in fact.”

“Me?”

“Yes. It is generous of you to pledge yourself to researching a cure for the alben's curse, but I am not sure it would be right of me to promise Gehmanin that you will do this.”

I clamped down on a flare of impatience. My stubborn streak was handy at times, but also could get me in trouble.

“I
will
do this. Never mind Gehmanin, this is the most exciting job I can imagine! I can't wait to get started.”

He gazed at me thoughtfully. “You do have an aptitude for healing.”

“And I'm grateful to you for helping me find it.” On impulse, I added, “May I be your apprentice?”

Madóran's brows rose. “Curanderismo is a different path than western medicine.”

I nodded. “Especially your brand. I'd still like to learn from you.”

“We shall see.” He seemed pleased by the request.

“Can I help with anything now? Fixing lunch?”

He glanced toward the kitchen as if he'd forgotten about the food thing. “Ah, yes. You can indeed help, but I wish to look in on Savhoran first.”

“May I come with you?”

His face darkened with concern as he nodded. He turned to the fountain again and closed his eyes. I held still, watching the water, keeping my thoughts as quiet as possible. My skin tingled a little, and I could almost imagine a glow surrounding the fountain, but it might have just been the sunlight.

After a moment Madóran headed for the north door into the
portal
, and I followed. Savhoran's room was warm, with a fire softly crackling. I went to it and added another piece of wood while Madóran looked at Savhoran.

He was restless, still fevered. I watched Madóran change the dressings on his throat, wincing at the sight of the cauterized wound. It was angry red, and seeping a little in a couple of places. Madóran gently covered it with fresh gauze, then held his hands above it.

I did some yoga breathing and pictured white light around them both. Madóran looked up and beckoned me to the table. He moved his hands to a couple of inches above Savhoran's temples, then gestured to me. I placed my hands in the air where he'd shown me, and Madóran returned his hands to the throat.

A deep hum—not a sound, but a sensation—filled me as I stood there. I concentrated on visualizing light. My hands grew warm.

Let it happen. Just let it all happen. Observe.

“Blue,” Madóran whispered.

“What?”

“You are thinking white. Make it blue.”

OK. Blue it is. I pictured the sky after sunset, the glowing blue that was one of my favorite colors. I closed my eyes and tried to hold the color in my thoughts, going back to the glowing sky whenever my mind strayed.

“A little lighter.”

Obediently I pictured the sky closer to dawn. Not yet pink, but more on the light side than the dark.

The occasional crackle of the fire was the only sound in the room besides our breathing. I tried to sync my breaths with Madóran's, but his were awfully slow. I needed more practice.

Blue. Just blue.

I counted my heartbeats to time my breathing, and also to avoid mental meandering. Repetition was good for focus. I lost all sense of time passing: inhale, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, exhale …

Something shifted and I opened my eyes. Madóran had stepped back.

“Enough for now,” he said.

Savhoran was lying still, no longer fretful. His face looked peaceful. I exhaled, relieved, and tiptoed out of the room after Madóran.

“Why blue?” I asked as we headed for the kitchen.

“Have you ever seen a glacier?”

“On TV. Not in person.”

“Did you see images of crevices and deep holes?”

“Yeah.”

Madóran opened the kitchen door and paused to look back at me. “What color were they?”

“Kind of turquoise.”

He nodded. “Blue is the heart of ice. A good counter to burns.”

“Oh. OK.”

Under Madóran's direction, I chopped and measured and fetched things for another stew. He put some of the beans to soak in a huge pot, then started making bread.

“How soon do we run out of food?” I asked as I attacked an onion.

He paused to look at me, eyes narrowing in amusement. “I can call to the village for supplies. My credit is good.”

“Wouldn't that be putting someone in danger, having them come here?”

“Not in daylight. Not today. Gehmanin will do nothing rash before dusk.”

“Grocery run today then? You've got six eggs left.”

“I will call after everyone is fed.”

This took a while. At home my cooking tended to start with a box or a can. Madóran's way was undeniably tastier, and probably healthier and less expensive, but it was slow. I watched, trying to learn. He began to explain what he was doing, telling me why the onions went in first, then the garlic, then spices.

“Each flavor is layered upon the others,” he said, stirring the pot and waving the aroma toward his face. I leaned closer to smell, got a snootful of red chile, and sneezed.

“Good chile,” I said, wiping my watering eyes. “Don't tell me—you grew it.”

He smiled. “No. I have a client who comes up from Chimayo. He pays me in chile.”

“Well, it's good stuff.” I grabbed a napkin from the stack on the counter and wiped my face.

Madóran picked up another napkin and poured a small mound of the red chile powder into it, then twisted it up into a makeshift pouch. “Take some home with you.”

“Thanks.”

I could feel myself blushing as I accepted the gift. Madóran was so generous, on top of being patient. I'd have to learn to cook from scratch, if only to do justice to his kindness.

He smiled, then went back to stirring the stew. “Now we add broth. Will you hand me a ladle from that drawer?”

I stuffed the chile into my pocket and grabbed the ladle. More layers went in: cabbage, zucchini, and finally the beans. By the time Madóran sent me to the front room to inform the crew that lunch was served, it was mid-afternoon.

Caeran, Nathrin and Mirali were the only ones there. Mirali offered to go round up the others while the two guys followed me to the kitchen. Caeran and I took our lunch out onto the
portal
again and sat together watching the birds.

“Discussion over?” I asked.

“We have reached the point where we must agree to disagree.”

“How can you stand arguing so much?”

“It is what we do instead of fighting.”

I chewed a bite of bread while that sank in. His people had been around a very long time. It made sense that they had worked out compromises, ways of living that didn't involve conking each other on the head. Especially since they didn't have a lot of heads to spare.

All at once I felt part of a very young and primitive tribe. Why did Caeran even bother with me?

He reached over and laid his hand on mine, sending a shiver through me. My appetite vanished.

“I don't suppose you'd consider …”

No, but I would like to stay with you until dusk.

Sold. What do we do, play pinochle?

Would you sing to me again?

Oh, lordy.
I'm not that good.

He smiled, eyes shining.
I love your voice.

Bironan and Lomen came out of the kitchen, glanced at us as they walked past, and continued around the
portal
toward the library. When they'd gone, I looked at Caeran.

“Not here.”

He raised his chin and his eyes went distant, then he picked up our plates and grabbed my hand. We went to the kitchen, where Nathrin and Mirali were talking with Madóran and Faranin at the table. Depositing our plates by the sink, Caeran led me on through the entryway into the front room. For the first time I could remember, it was empty.

Caeran dropped my hand and went to a bookcase in the far corner. A black guitar case that I hadn't noticed before leaned against it. Caeran brought it to the fire.

“Can you play?”

I glared at him. “You peeked.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I only suspected. You sing so well, I thought you must have a general gift for music.”

“Even if I did, which I don't, that wouldn't mean I could automatically play any instrument. That's the sort of thing you people do.”