Disclaimer: I'm only playing in Pat's beautiful playground.

Chapter 16: Weight of Memory

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The air smelled medicinal. It was a familiar smell. Nostalgic. I breathed it in, the taste slightly bitter as it coated my tongue, as if the air had been steeped in tea and herbs. In that moment, I was sure I was in Father's apothecary. Sure that I had fallen asleep in the back.

I shifted and felt scratchy cloth beneath my cheek. It was comfortable in a familiar way. I didn't want to open my eyes; to go back to work. I folded in on myself, burrowing into the warmth as I tried to hold on to the ripping threads of my dream. It had been something terrible, to be sure. Something so dark it scared me. And yet I still grasped at its edges with a morbid fascination, trying to see the shape of the thing that left me terrified.

Footsteps startled me, and the dream fell to pieces. They were soft and light and couldn't possibly be Father's. Then it could only be—

"Denna," I mumbled. "I'm getting up. I swear."

I reached out to grasp at my blanket, finding only a cloak. Was it Father's?

"Dayana," a voice said.

Dayana. Who was that? I didn't know.

"Are you awake?" it persisted.

The voice was thin and dry. Grandmotherly, but it wasn't Grandmother's. The sound unfamiliar.

I blinked awake into semidarkness, and the remnants of the dream faded, leaving only harsh reality in its place. My empty life slipped back around me, full of gaping holes where my family had been. I was wrapped in a cloak that was not my father's. Still a murderer. A fugitive. A whore.

A pregnant whore.

I had long come to terms with everything else, but the last realization was overwhelming. It filled me with cold terror as I lay there, panic building in my chest until it shook me whole.

I jolted dizzily upright to see a small room with low ceilings and tiny windows high up along the walls. The walls were filled with racks hung with dried herbs, and shelving that contained jars of clay and glass and copper. The light had a flickering quality, comprised mostly of candleflame and shadows that moved so much they seemed alive. And leaning down to look at me was a woman. Cealdish, but so old that her dark hair had faded to silver.

"You're awake." She reached out with a thin but firm hand and pushed me back down against the sheets. "Good."

She stepped away, bustling out of my line of sight. I heard the rustling of paper and something light being shaken about.

"Who are you?" I asked weakly.

I struggled to sit up again, trying to focus around the frantic pounding in my chest as my heart drummed a keening song with every heartbeat. I would die. I would die. Just like Denna had died. It was only a matter of time. And it was all my fault. Again.

And wasn't that exactly what I deserved?

"Where… where am I?"

It took her a while to reply. She was occupied at the cluttered table beside my narrow bed. My eyes adjusted to the low light enough to see her mix several herbs into a paper sachet and steep it in water in a clay mug. Then she turned back to me.

"I am May," she said simply. "You are at my house. Charrel brought you here."

I frowned. "Why…?"

"You collapsed at the baths," she said. "Do you remember?"

I did. Oh, I almost wished I'd never woken up at all.

"A bit." I cradled my shaking hands in my lap, staring down at them as I focused on my breathing.

In and out. In and out.

"I'm fine, really." My words felt wooden in my mouth. "It's nothing." Maybe it wouldn't be so bad… dying. What was I even clinging to, anyway? Pregnant. I'd probably starve long before I bled to death now.

Was that worse?

In and out.

"Hmmph," she said. "If you're fine, then I'm an Aturan princess."

Her declaration was so shocking that it caught me off guard, and the smallest smile pulled at my lips. I breathed; a puff of air escaping from my strangled chest. It felt a little bit lighter.

"Are you a doctor?" I asked.

"A herb healer."

"Oh." I looked up, nostalgia dulling the panic in my chest a little more. Enough to breathe past. "Of course."

She gave me a frank look. "You are familiar with the art." It wasn't a question.

"My father owned an apothecary." I spoke carelessly, keeping the words far away to soften their sting. "He sold to many herb healers. I helped sort and package the orders sometimes."

"I see." She nodded. "That is good. It will be easier to help you. Less to explain."

She turned back to the table, lowering her head to peer into the mug. After a long moment she picked it up and handed it to me.

"Drink this."

I clasped my shaking hands around it, feeling the warmth cradle my skin. It smelled pleasantly bitter, and I felt the ache in my chest loosen from inhaling the vapor.

"What is it?"

I raised it to my lips, taking a small sip. It seemed to burn away some of my panic. I took another, larger gulp, closing my eyes as I felt its warmth spread through me.

"Passiflora," she said, "menka leaf, and piper root." She gave me a level look. "It's a calming draft. Ideal for a panic episode."

"Thank you." I glanced down, staring into the cup and avoiding her eyes. "You're… good." I raised the cup to my lips again, inhaling the steam as I took another sip.

"I've been doing this a long time, child," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "Take your time." She bustled away, letting me drink in peace. As I sat there sipping the tea, the hard knot in my chest loosened a bit, like a rope coming undone. Without it, the panic felt less sharp. Still there, but manageable. A dull ache that I could think around.

I looked around the room again, taking it in. There were several more tables placed against the walls; workstations loaded with herbs and vials and bottles. There was a large vat of water in the corner, next to a shelf stuffed with medicinal journals and books. There was a door set into the far wall, firmly shut. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the light, the room didn't seem nearly as dark.

May returned as I was finishing the tea. She leaned against the table and folded her arms across her chest, contemplating me.

"How do you know Charrel?" I asked to fill the silence.

She seemed amused by that. "I know everyone around here, Dayana."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone," she repeated. "They all come to see me sooner or later. There's not a western doctor worth a damn down here, and if they could afford one of those School of Medicine-trained dandelions, they wouldn't live in this shithole. But they do, so they come to me."

I choked out a tiny laugh at that. It seemed to please her, and she favored me with a smile before adding, "Has this happened to you before?"

Tehlu. I sighed. No one had asked me anything like that. Not for years. It made my eyes sting in the most uncomfortable way.

I shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "No."

"Tell me," she said, and in that moment she reminded me so much of Grandmother that I nearly burst into tears right then. Grandmother… what would she think of me if she knew? At least Denna had loved him. I stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. At anywhere but May.

"It was nothing." My words sounded lifeless. Empty. "It was hot in the baths. I felt dizzy. I panicked."

I fell silent, still looking anywhere but at her. She let the silence stretch until it bordered on uncomfortable before asking, "Is that all?"

"That's all," I said, feeling my stomach clench.

May sighed. "I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong, Dayana."

"I don't need help."

"No?"

"No," I repeated, the word catching in my throat. "I'm okay. Really."

I wasn't sure when I had ever been less okay in my life. Against my better judgement, I snuck a glance at her. She was watching me, her eyes steady. Her face wasn't hard, but it was firm. Unyielding. Like a tree in the wind. An age-old oak.

Why? What did she want of me anyway?

I glanced back down at my hands. They were shaking again.

May laid a hand on mine, pushing the cup at me again. "Drink."

I raised it to my lips and drained the rest of the amber liquid. She took it back. "I'll make more."

I watched her mix another cup at the table, taking deep, slow breaths until I slowly pushed the panic away once again. It simmered below the surface now, laden with May's tea. Still threatening to boil over, but mostly under control.

"My daughter," she said, returning with the second cup and pushing it gently into my hands, "would get this way sometimes. Freeze with panic. She would feel faint, or have trouble breathing. Each time, she thought it was death come to claim her."

I took another sip, saying nothing.

May nodded to herself. "It was hard for her. The tea helped. It calms."

I did feel calmer, with the warm amber liquid in my hands

"But the tea is just a balm," she said. "Not a cure."

"It didn't help her?" I asked, curious despite myself. I squeezed my hands tighter around the cup that was holding me together.

"For a time," May said. "You feel better now, but the problem is not solved. Is it?"

I said nothing.

"When you break your arm and take laudanum for the pain, does that fix your arm? No. And here, too, you must root out the cause." She sighed. "Calia didn't wish to root out the cause. Before she fell to panic, she had everything. But after… she walked away from the man she was to marry. From the job she'd worked so hard for. She let her whole life slip away. Talking… that would have helped. More than tea. But she was always a stubborn child, that one."

"What... happened to her?" I asked.

"Nothing." May sounded weary. "She's gone. Chasing the wind. She thought it easier to run and spread her pain across the rivers and hills and mountains. That that would make it lighter."

"Did it?" My words were soft, and I didn't meet her eyes. May was quiet for a long time.

"Maybe," she said finally. "Maybe it did."

I watched her, silent. When she spoke again, her voice seemed rougher around the edges.

"Dayana. Think on it, child. If you leave now. If you run off to the edge of the four corners… Will your pain heal with the days and miles?"

"I don't know." I looked away, my hands firm around the cup. There was nothing I could say. The mess I was in was of my own making, and no amount of talking would help. What words could heal me?

No, this… this would not heal at all.

I lowered the half-drunk cup and slipped off the bed, wrapping the cloak firmly around me.

"Thank you for helping me. How much do I owe you?"

May frowned. "Dayana, please, just—"

"How much?" I repeated.

May sighed. "A penny."

"Are you sure?" It was a pittance. It would hardly even cover the cost of her herbs.

"I'm sure."

I reached for my purse but she laid a hand on my arm, stopping me. "Wait. If you don't want to talk, it's fine. But finish the tea, at least."

"Okay," I agreed, "thank you."

May turned away and stepped toward the table, where she began to sort through the packets of herbs. "I'll mix you a few sachets to take with you. You'll only need to add water. Hot, but not boiling. You are staying with Charrel, yes?"

"Yes," I said mechanically. I had no idea where I was staying, but the Iron Tree seemed as good a place as any until I ran out of coin.

"Good, he is a good man. He'll have water. Fresh and clean, not like some of these places here."

"Right," I mumbled.

I watched her work for a bit, then wandered over to the shelves, still holding on to my cup. The collection of medical journals was impressive. I had studied a lot as a child with Denna and Mother, and they had taken my education very seriously, but I'd never heard of most of the books that filled her shelves. My eyes drifted across the worn and creased covers and onto the next shelf. This one was well stocked with glass jars full of herbs, all arranged neatly and labeled in cursive. I paused here, the sight painfully familiar.

It smelled so much of Father's shop.

If I closed my eyes, I could picture myself standing there. I could practically taste the air; bitter and sweet at once. An overwhelming scent of herbs with a slight undertone of chocolate. Father had always stocked candy to spare and sold it much too cheap to joyful neighborhood children.

I reached out a hand, tracing my fingers across the familiar words. Menkha. Laudanum. Arrowroot. I mouthed the names as I read them, my memories so present they felt more solid than the air I breathed. Deadnettle. Ramsburr.

I turned and saw May watching me. Her eyes seemed to glint in the dim light.

"You have a lot of herbs," I said, feeling rather as if I had been caught in the act of something improper. "Do you get them all here in Renere?"

"Some. Some come in directly from the Ceald. With merchant caravans. Tinkers." She shrugged. "Some I've picked myself in the surrounding forests or the Eld."

"The Eld?" I repeated. "Isn't it far? I've heard it's dangerous."

"Hmmph." She turned back to the table and began rearranging her packets. "Dangerous. Eating soup can be dangerous, if you're not careful. If you take proper precautions, you can walk any road or forest. Even the Eld." She paused. "But you're right. It is far. I haven't been there for a long while. Too long."

"Right." I looked back at the shelf, my eyes drifting across the neat labels. Bessamy. Bitefew. Motherwort. Krovnium…

I paused, my fingers trembling. Father's apothecary loomed around me. I remembered the face of the woman. Pale. Thin. Eyes swollen with tears and hooded in shadow.

"Anything," she had begged. "A tea? Denner? Please!"

Father hadn't had denner. Yet.

I glanced back at May, still occupied at the table. She was kind, so kind. More than I deserved.

My hand shook as I brushed the shelf.

It took May ten minutes more to finish mixing the herbs. I guiltily handed her a penny in exchange for the paper bundle and held it to my chest as she led me out of her basement ward. Less two pennies.

"Come back if you need more," she said. "Or if you change your mind."

I nodded before hurrying away, my "thank you" nearly lost to the frigid wind.

Unsure of where to go, I returned to the Iron Tree. Hana was at the desk again, and she greeted me warmly, refusing my payment for the bath in a surprising display of affection. With my purse rapidly thinning from my morning with May, I didn't insist. She sat me down with a bowl of potato soup and bread fresh from the oven, but my appetite was gone as surely as my faltering will. I doubted I would ever feel hungry again.

I forced down several spoonfuls before retreating to the tiny room I had rented. There, I lay on the narrow bed, watching the sun's light slide across the empty walls as my thoughts raced and swirled. Hours passed. The room fell slowly into shadow, colors fading from the light. Through the small window, I saw a glimpse of the encroaching darkness that filled the sky. But still I lay, listless, as night fell around me. Getting up… was too much effort. And every road before me was no sort of road at all. The paths too rough and jagged to walk. The destinations unclear.

The night grew heavier, the darkness darker. Unbroken by window lights. The hour so late that around me the city slept and the world fell to silence. But still, my mind burned.

Where? Where should I go?

What could I do?

Why did I cling to this empty life?

Even if the child were real… if it was…

Oh Denna… would you forgive me?

Silently, I wept.

I left early next morning. There was nothing to stay for, and I could no longer stare at these empty walls while my mind screamed in the silence. I hid most of my things safely away in my secret space, slipped on my tightest low-bodice dress, and lost myself in South Renere's crude heart as it started to wake.

I drifted, slipping from inn to inn. To busy taprooms. To places where the din was so loud that I could no longer hear my thoughts. I didn't want to think anymore. There were no good options before me, and too much time to contemplate the bad ones. Despite how meaningless my whole existence seemed, it was terrifying to think of how it might end. Of how that might hurt. And was there anything after? Anyone? What kind of mother could I make, anyway? I was nothing. I had nothing to give. And if I did it… If I chose this terrible thing instead… then who, who would I be?

So I didn't think. I walked. I moved, until the pounding of my heartbeat was all I could hear. I drank, and spent too much coin, and talked to men I never wished to see naked. And the hours ticked away. Night fell. And night was my hunting ground, even though I was never sure, really, if I was the one hunting. Especially tonight. But I made a go of it. A good one really, considering how utterly empty I was inside.

I found him in my third tavern of the night. He was a heavyset man with rough hands and a thick accent; the kind of man that had surely lived all his life among the fields in the eastern hills. He bragged he was in Renere on "important business" though he wouldn't say what his business was. I didn't ask. Didn't care. He had a room at The Loden Sleep and offered me two full pennies to spend the night, and that was plenty more than I could hope for. I followed him up the dingy steps to a tiny room with a bed that smelled strongly of mildew. There was a small window, the glass cracked and stained with dirt. Its wooden frame was rotted at the edges. The floor stained and warped. The whole room seemed forlorn somehow, weary of its battle with the encroaching filth. Long worn beyond mending.

I let him take me on the musty bed, my stomach roiling and my mind black and empty. Perhaps I was worn beyond mending, too.

He was nearly spent when I couldn't take it anymore. Not for one more second. It was all too much, too much. I felt like I would burst. Like the whole world would burst with me. I let out a strangled gasp as my stomach churned, and only just managed to turn my head before I vomited onto the dingy floor. Another stain to paint it with. No matter what face I put on, there was no escaping what I was. Not when the proof was painted across the broken wood. He let out a string of bitter curses as I started to sob.

He all but threw me from the room, cursing about "useless drunk whores" and I stumbled down the uneven stairs, fumbling at the strings of my dress with shaking fingers. I could feel my heart beginning to race again, the undercurrent of panic strumming through me like distant thunder. Its claws had not descended to clench around my heart, not yet, but they were surely circling. Drawing closer.

I ran unsteadily through the street, still busy despite the hour. It was Cendling night, and the crowds were boisterous. I struggled through them, avoiding the men who threw lewd comments in my direction. By the time I reached the Iron Tree, I was trembling. My body pulled tight as a string on Mother's rebec. It took me several attempts to pry open the rusty cleanout door in the back alley, but I pulled out the bag that held May's packets. Then I firmly slammed the door and hurried inside.

"Dayana!" Charrel greeted me as I stumbled into the Iron Tree. "Hana said you here, but we miss you at breakfast."

"Sorry," I apologized. "I had to… had to go. But I need a room for the night. And water. Hot water."

"Okay, hot water." He nodded, reaching to pull down an iron key from the hooks on the wall behind him. He turned around and passed it to me as I fumbled through my thinning purse in search of coins. "I get. Here." He held out the key, frowning as he studied my face. "Dayana, tu lhin? What wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. Fine." I held out a hand for the key.

"Too pale," he persisted. "I get May."

"No," I said firmly. "I'm fine, Charrel. I promise. I just need—"

"You not fine," he said. "That why May looking for you. She worried."

"What?" My heart froze in my chest. "May came looking for me? Here?"

"This morning." He laid the key down on the desk and reached out a hand to touch my shoulder. "She ask you come see her right away. She wait long time."

I took a step back.

Tehlu. She knew. She had to. I felt cold sweat break out across my skin.

"She say— Dayana?" Charrel frowned.

I was such a fool. Of course she told them. I had ruined it all. Again.

"I— I have to go…"

How many times would I make the same mistakes?

"Go? Where? Posz naut. It night."

I took another step back, my heart pounding so hard I feared it would burst free of my chest right there. The air felt too dense to breathe. It was the last place I had. The last in all the world.

"Dayana, wait!"

"S-sorry," I managed. And then I turned and fled into the night.