Jeanne G'Fellers - Sister Lost, Sister Found (11 page)

“Great Mother, what are we getting into?” Jewel tensed. “What if the family is there when we arrive?”

“We ride away. I’m not taking the risk. Sick as this child may be, your safety comes first.”

“So should yours, Kaelan.” Jewel steadied the sling in her lap and remained silent the rest of the short journey, preparing for the worst. Rankil might very well be dead when they arrived.

“Terry? Archell?” Kaelan inquired from the cabin’s threshold.

“At the table. Please, join us.” Terry beckoned them in. “Rankil’s fever is rising again. Archell was about to draw some water to wipe her down.”

Jewel hesitated when she saw Archell’s hulking form. He was an intimidating sight until you saw his boyish smile. He gave Jewel one of his best, and her fear melted away. “Rankil dankle is so, so sick,” he told her. “Please fix her up and do it quick. Archell fears for her.”

“She’ll do all she can.” Kaelan led Jewel to Rankil’s pallet, giving her lover a brief, phasing explanation of Archell’s unusual talent as they went. “Archell, can you please get some water? We must wash before we tend her.”

“Yes, Kaelan.” He swept the water bucket into his arms and pushed out the door. Jewel made a summary view of Rankil’s wounds and ran a hand across her forehead. Rankil’s arms and face were an extreme red of fever and infection.

“Good thing you loosened the stitches.” Jewel’s accent wasn’t as pronounced as her lover’s. She shook out her skirts and unpacked her sling. “The drainage from her right arm is heavy. She may lose it yet. Blind Grandmother, has Rankil taken any liquids?”

“Not today.” Terry shuffled from her rocker to her grandchild’s side. “Nothing much has stayed down since the attack. Not even weak broth.”

“Then we’ll have to force them into her. The infection won’t heal if she’s dehydrated.” Jewel turned back to her patient as Archell approached with the sloshing bucket. He set it on the table and collapsed on the hassock at Granny’s feet.

“Archell’s tired,” he mumbled.

“So is Granny Terry.” She patted his head. “Kaelan, do you need our help?”

“No, I think Jewel and I can manage.” Kaelan rinsed her hands, sat cross-legged at the pallet’s head and drew Rankil’s upper body into her lap.

Rankil?
Her prod received no response.
Rankil? It’s Kaelan. I need you to wake up.
Rankil’s eyelids fluttered.
Come on, Rankil, I brought someone to meet you just as I promised
. Kaelan nodded for Jewel to add her presence.

Rankil?
Jewel’s touch brimmed with maternal concern. She dried her hands then rubbed Rankil’s leg.
Please, Rankil. I need you to wake up and drink some medicine for me.

What? Rankil finally responded in a tired internal murmur
.

Medicine, young one. You must take some.

Who’re you?

I’m Jewel. Kaelan brought me here to treat you, which I can’t do it until you wake
. Jewel brushed a hand over Rankil’s cheek before pushing a relieving phase.
There, the pain should be less. Open your eyes.

Rankil rejoiced to find two Taelach faces smiling down on her. She was amazed to be seeing her own, astounded they actually cared. Why should they? They didn’t know her.

“You thirsty?” Jewel seemed pleased by Rankil’s nod. “Good, you can have something as soon as I salve down the cuts.” She proceeded to smear a thick layer of foul-smelling gray oil around the stitches. Rankil lay in silence until Jewel reached her face then she winced, pushing Jewel’s hand away.

“Hurts there, doesn’t it?” Jewel looked at Kaelan. “Hold her firm. Any more of a phase will put her out again.”

Kaelan’s arm became tight around Rankil’s head and shoulders. She held Rankil still no longer than necessary but not without considerable effort. Rankil was strong, powered by muscles formed by tedious lifting chores.
She’s a tough one.

What choice has she had?
Jewel cleaned the worst of the drainage and doused the area with the antibiotic oil. “I’m through, Rankil. Please don’t cry anymore.”

But Rankil couldn’t stop. She let wave after wave of terrified sobs, releasing what hadn’t come of the assault. Kaelan and Jewel could do little more than comfort her as they did Myrla when she’d been scared or hurt, carefully rocking her. Terry and Archell were quick to add their input. Archell sang verse after verse of her favorite songs, each sillier than the last until all, Rankil included, laughed hysterically.

“Sorry,” she mumbled when the trembling had eased and she’d downed the medicated water Jewel held to her mouth. “I acted like a little girl.” Her facial muscles twitched angrily with her words, but Rankil knew it meant there was no nerve damage. Disfigurement was another issue. “Will my scars be bad?”

“There’s no harm in tears,” soothed Kaelan, pushing away the expected broadback resistance to emotional displays. “And, yes, you will have pronounced scars on your face and arms.”

“But you won’t be the first Taelach with them.” Jewel pulled back her tunic collar, revealing a jagged circle on her shoulder. “I was run through during a Hunt when I was eight. One of my raiser’s almost died protecting me.”

“So, I won’t be looked at strangely?”

“No,” answered Jewel. “A scar is a mark of survival. If anything, it’s viewed as honorable.” She poured another measure of powders into the refilled mug. “Drink it all. You need the fluids and the medicine.”

“Bitter. It’s making me sick.” Rankil’s complaint became a gulp when Archell turned up the glass.

“Shush, Rankil,” he said in his most serious, non-rhyming boom of a voice. “Do as you are told.”

The room began to tilt and rotate as Jewel’s medicines began to take effect. It was far different than the gentle numbing sensation of a phase, Rankil’s eyes crossing as focusing became difficult. “Jewel?”

“Yes?”

“You wear skirts.”

“I do.”

“So you’re a woman?”

“Yes.”

Kaelan chuckled as she eased Rankil’s head to the pillows. “Jewel is what we call a gentlewoman.”

“Are you a woman, too, Kaelan?”

Kaelan stifled a full laugh when Jewel poked her in the ribs. “Yes, Rankil, but I’m not a gentlewoman.”

“Then what are you?”

“The Taelach call my kind broadback. Auts have many terms for my kind, but none of them are flattering or correct. In essence, I care for my family and protect them from harm. You’ll understand as you grow older.”

Rankil puzzled over the explanation. “I’m growing tall and strong. Will I be like Kaelan?”

“All Taelachs grow tall and strong.” Jewel pulled the covers to Rankil’s chest and placed her arms across the top, happy to see that the angry red lines were beginning to recede. “Time will tell you where your heart lies. You’re at a confusing time in your development. Not being raised by your own has made it more so.”

“Will I ever be accepted?” Rankil allowed her burning eyes to close.

“Our plans are for you to be presented to our clan next spring.” Kaelan smiled over to Jewel whose face could not hide her delight. “You’re too young to be considered independent so you’ll be presented as our child.”

“Yours?” Rankil’s eyes popped back open. “But you just met me. You don’t know a thing about me.”

“We know you need us.” Jewel stroked away the moisture beading on Rankil’s forehead. Her fever was breaking, a sign that made her leaving easier. “And Archell can join us if he wishes. All are welcome as long as they follow the clan laws. I believe Kae would back him.” Kaelan put the medicines on the table and draped the empty sling over Jewel’s shoulder.

“I would. It’s time, my beloved. We must get back.”

“I know. You need rest, sweet child. I’m putting you to sleep.” She ignored Rankil’s objections, forcing her into a deep healing sleep.
Goodnight, my precious babe.
Jewel kissed her cheek and stood, momentarily torn between the child she’d raised and the one who needed her now.

“Coat her wounds at dawn and dusk, Grandmother, and use a spoon measure of powders as needed for her pain. Sing to her, Archell. She needs your support.”

“We will.” Terry extended her hand in thanks only to find herself the recipient of Jewel’s warm hug.

“Kaelan will return tomorrow. Rankil should be quite a bit better by then.” Jewel then drew a surprised and pleased Archell into her embrace. “You’re not above a little raising yourself, young man.”

“I swear you’d have a swarm of children if it were permissible.” Kaelan pulled Jewel to the door. “I’ll be back soon.” They slid through the late stillness to where their nassie was picketed behind the smoker shed. They were just inside the tree line when the rumble of hooves turned them back. Four sweat-slicked mounts drew to a halt outside the small cabin, four sword-wielding male riders sliding off and approaching the still open door.

“Dear Mother, what do we do now?” Jewel sat back against Kaelan. “They’ve no defense. The children will be killed!”

“Clan law says we ride away. There is nothing we can do.”

“But we have to do something,” pleaded Jewel. “We can’t turn away. The sister child needs us. So does the boy, the old woman. We can’t just—”

“We’ve no other choice.” Kaelan urged their nassie up the mountainside.

“No!” Jewel jerked the reins so hard the mount almost flipped on its back. “I won’t be able to live with myself.”

“I won’t risk your safety.” Kaelan snapped the reins from her hands and veered the agitated animal back up the slope. “Maybe this is how it was meant to be.”

“You’re saying we were meant to disobey the Mother’s will?”

“The Mother Maker doesn’t have to live with Serpent law. We do. I know it seems harsh—” Her explanation stopped as a low-pitched wail rose from the cabin. It was Archell’s voice, so pained it made one shiver.

“I can’t stand it.” Jewel hid her face in Kaelan’s cloak. “They’re torturing him! Mother’s pity, Kae, we have to help.”

“Yes, we must,” muttered Kaelan as the noise rose. “We must.” She turned the nassie back and retied it to the shed. “Stay here.”

“I’ll not.” Jewel slid from her perch and drew her blade from her belt pouch. “I’ve seen my share of fights. Between our knives and phases we should be able to take all four.”

Kaelan opened her mouth to object then stopped, knowing she would never convince Jewel otherwise. “Very well, but if I say run, you run and don’t look back until you’re safe with Myrla.” Kaelan pulled their hoods up and took hold of Jewel’s arm. “Stay beside me while we see what we’re up against.”

They crept to a low window and peered through a crack in the drawn shutters. Terry sat in her rocker, sword pointed to her throat while two burgeoning teens delivered blow after blow to Archell’s midsection. The fourth, a chunky youth with Danston’s high forehead, poked Rankil with the tip of his blade.

“She’s out of it. Really out of it.” Sallnox prodded his sister again then turned to his cousins. “Won’t Archie speak up?”

“Stars, no. Even if he did the dummy would only sing.” Eloc ground his boot into Archell’s stomach. “Where’s Dah, Archie? Where’re the nassies you took?”

“Leave him be!” Terry pushed the blade from her face and felt her way to Archell’s side. She drew him into her arms and wiped his bloodied nose on her apron. “He has no nassies and Tisph was never here. Archell showed up a few nights ago cold and hungry. He’s been helping me care for Rankil. Does that rate him a beating?”

“And just what happened to Rankil?” Sallnox pointed to his sister. “And what’s that gunk on her face and arms?”

“She crossed paths with a letcher bear while tending her snares,” said Terry. “The wounds are dressed with one of my herb remedies.”

“Those aren’t claw marks,” stated one of Archell’s brothers. “Those are from a strap like Dah’s belt. We all know how his leather cuts.”

“Yeah, we do.” The smallest of the four, a boy no more than twelve, rubbed his shoulder. “Dah said he was riding up here. His nassie wandered back into the compound around dark. Where is he, Granny Terry?”

“All right.” The old woman sighed. “He showed the other morning, took his pleasures with Rankil and left. You happy?”

“Dah finally caught up with Rank, eh?” Royce, the closest to Archell’s age, gave his father’s lewd grin. “She deserved what she got and more. Stupid witch, wish I’d been here to see it.”

“Maybe we could finish the job.” Eloc adjusted his belt line, hungering with the desires that had cost his father’s life.

“We string the thief first.” Sallnox grabbed Archell by the collar and pulled him toward the door. “Get your rope, Tilnor. Royce, tie him up and get him mounted.”

“Oh, such big, strong, brave men!” wailed Terry when they ripped Archell from her arms. “Come here in the dead of night to hang your brother and murder your helpless cousin. And, Sallnox! You’d let them? I thought more of you.”

“Shut up.” Sallnox knotted Archell’s bindings then shoved him to the others. “String him good. I’ll watch Rankil until you get back.”

“Sallnox, NO!” Terry threw herself over Rankil’s body. “How could you possibly—”

He pulled her clear of Rankil once the others were occupied outside. “Not that. Think about it. If I don’t end it quick for Rankil then Royce and Eloc will do what Uncle Tisph did, only worse. I won’t hurt her. She’ll just slip away.” He settled with his knees on either side of his sibling’s shoulders and pulled the pillow from underneath her head. “This is for the best.” He pressed it into her face, her humiliation sliding away as he worked. Raskhallak was right—she was just Taelach. What his uncle and cousins saw in her he’d never know.