For a moment, Virdon could only stare at Burke, stunned by the surreality of his friend's sudden appearance - wasn't he sleeping outside? - and the fury burning in his eyes. And Zana? Zana?
Had he slipped into a dream, too exhausted to notice? Ehme had sat him down on a pallet, but he couldn't remember falling asleep...
Then his injury flared up, stabbing him in the hip and running down his leg like liquid fire, and for the first time, Virdon was grateful for the pain, for the measure of reality it provided.
He flicked a glance at Zana, but she looked as confused as he felt. Galen... Galen's eyes were inscrutable. Virdon returned his attention to Burke. "I've no idea what you're talking about."
"Let's go outside," Galen said, before Burke could draw a breath. "Too many ears are eager to catch a bit of our conversation here."
They filed out in tense silence; he felt Zana's hand at his arm for a moment, a quick squeeze, assuring him that she was on his side, even if neither of them knew what had thrown him into disgrace in Pete's eyes.
Well, he'd find out soon enough, wouldn't he.
The moon was headed towards the western horizon, throwing long shadows across the square. In unspoken agreement, they sheltered in the shadow of their wagon, indistinct silhouettes in its darkness. If they kept their voices low, nobody would notice them.
Virdon decided to secure the initiative. "So what's this all about, Pete? You've got something on your mind about Zana?"
"No, buddy, I've got something on my mind about you." Pete's face was an pale blur in the darkness, but his voice was a growl, low and dark. "You remember our little holiday in monkeytown? I got some interesting postcards when I was doin' time with Vanda." He stepped closer, so close that Virdon could now see his eyes, dark patches in a white face.
"An' then, when we were in that monastery, you asked me if I'd given them any names! You asked me!" His voice broke at the last word. He abruptly turned away.
Virdon blinked. "We had to know... I told you there was no blame-"
And then Burke was in his face so quickly that Virdon took an involuntary step back. "How fucking kind of you!" Burke snapped. "As if you had a right to blame me for fucking anything! I fought! You... you just told her ," he pointed at Zana, "everything she wanted to know, 'cause we needed to trade information, right, Al? That's what you told me on our first day in Alcatraz!"
"I didn't tell Zana anything critical, Pete." Virdon could feel nervous energy crackle around Burke like lighting, flickering rapidly, erratically, making his limbs tremble and his breath hitch; any moment now, he'd explode... either attacking him with fists or with words he'd regret afterwards.
He had to stop this before it spiraled completely out of control. "Pete, please... you have to believe me. I swear to God, I didn't tell her anything I'm not allowed to tell."
"It's true," Zana's voice cut in. "It was so frustrating - like trying to fight with a bowl of jelly. I felt so incompetent."
Everyone fell silent for a moment. Despite everything, Virdon had to bite back a smile. "You were very tenacious, very... skilled," he told her. "But I'm under orders, and," he returned his gaze to Burke, "I obeyed them, Major. I did. What did Vanda tell you?"
The silence stretched as Burke stared at him, fists flexing, fighting whatever demons were besetting his soul. Virdon saw him moisten his lips. "She knew about my parents... personal stuff that I hadn't told Zana, only you... she knew all about project Icarus, hell, she knew Hasslein's name! She knew the year of the launch-" He stopped, blinked.
Virdon waited.
"She knew the year," Burke repeated slowly. "told me she knew we left Earth in 2074." He stopped again, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Virdon saw him put the pieces together. He was aware of Galen and Zana watching and listening, too, silent and alert.
"She didn't say, '2074 by your calendar,' or something," Burke breathed. "Just the year, as if she knew..."
"As if she knew how long ago that was," Galen's calm voice finished for him. "Tell me, Peet, how long ago was it, really?"
For the second time that night, shock slammed into Virdon's gut, knocking the breath out of him. From the shadows, he heard Zana's soft gasp. He and Burke simultaneously turned towards Galen, who just slightly cocked his head.
"You knew?" Burke's voice was rough. "How? How long?"
"I suspected it when you told me you saw a human book about surgery in Zaius' study." Galen's voice was laced with grim amusement. "My suspicion was confirmed when you read that book to Kira. How else would you be able to not only read that script, but also to translate what was written, if it wasn't your script, and your language?"
Burke swore under his breath; Virdon shook his head. So Galen had known... and Burke had, too. Ever since they had raided Zaius' study, after Zana had broken them out of the institute. "You didn't tell me, then," he said, too numb to feel more than faint surprise. "Why didn't you tell me, Pete?"
He saw Burke's shoulders sag a bit, losing some of that shivering tension. "You had just found that stupid disc," Burke murmured. "You were so damn happy, an' I... well." He shrugged. "Thought I'd break it to you later. But we were kinda busy then, an' it kept you going..."
"So you thought you'd let that carrot dangle in front of my nose, because you found it useful." Virdon's skin was burning, all the way from his throat to his chest. "How considerate of you!"
"What in the white wastes are you talking about?" Zana sounded thoroughly exasperated.
Virdon rubbed his face. He was thoroughly exasperated, too.
"Our ship traveled through time, Zana, not just through the space between the stars," he said tiredly. "It was an accident - I told you the truth about that. We never meant to end up here."
"They're from the past," Galen added. "Our past."
"The past..." Zana repeated slowly. She sounded dazed.
Then Virdon saw her shake her head, as if she wanted to chase away that revelation. Or maybe save it for later - that mythical 'later', when they would all be safe beyond the mountains, and would have time to process... everything.
"You knew," Zana said. She pointed at Virdon. "You knew. And you," she turned to point at Burke. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"I didn't tell anyone, not just you," Burke muttered. "You don't seem overly surprised, either," he added towards Virdon. "When did you...?"
"When I was trapped underground with Urko," Virdon said slowly. "We landed in an old subway station. We found flyers..."
Burke whistled. "Holy shit! Urko knows? How the hell did you survive that? And why the hell didn't you say anything afterwards?"
"Surviving the quakes was a more immediate concern for him," Virdon said dryly. "And... well," he ducked his head. "I was worried you'd call me a fool and go off on your own if you knew."
"I'm still calling you a fool, jus' so you know," Burke said mildly. "But you're one to talk about dangling carrots! You're no better than I was."
"So, to sum up," Galen interrupted; his voice was dry as dust. "You both learned the truth about your situation at different times, but chose not to tell each other so as to better manipulate the other, and also decided - also independently - not to tell either of us. Were you afraid we'd react like Urko did?"
Virdon found it better to ignore that question. "You didn't say anything, either; what's your excuse?"
"I don't need an excuse," Galen said smugly. "It was your secret, so I was free to decide if I wanted to let you know that I found you out."
"You could've told me," Zana muttered, then fell silent all of a sudden. Galen let his silence speak for himself.
For a while, nobody said anything. The silence grew awkward, filled with breathing and shuffling feet. Finally, Virdon cleared his throat.
"Seems we're all guilty of the same crime here," he said. "And Galen was right, earlier - we're enemies of the state, or," he smiled wryly, "a public safety hazard, and Urko and Zaius are mobilizing all their troops to find us - with such an overwhelming force against us, we can't be a... a house divided. We can't hide things like these from each other, and we shouldn't. We're stronger together."
From Burke's corner came slow clapping. "Nice speech, Colonel, you haven't lost your touch. I promise to be good from now on."
"I'll be absolutely thrilled to see that," Galen muttered.
"But how did Vanda know all those things?" Zana wondered. "She couldn't have known them from me, I didn't know them!"
Burke stilled, at the same moment as Virdon, as realization hit both of them. "The ship..."
"The other shipwreck we found in the jungle," Virdon confirmed. "The one that crashed ten years before us..."
"They took the crew and interrogated them," Burke concluded. His voice was flat. "And then killed them. Like they planned for us."
"And if Vanda knew about our mission..." Virdon felt nauseous.
"... then ANSA did send a ship after us." Burke had retreated even farther back into the shadow of the wagon; now his face was completely hidden. "Didn't matter if they went at a later time, with all that wormhole fuckery they could still have crashed earlier than us. Goddamn , I don't wanna know how many of our ships are littering this planet, and for how many centuries..."
"They wouldn't have tried more than once," Virdon said absently. Who could they have sent? Who would have an interest in getting them home, against all probability, all common sense, all that money that such a rescue mission would cost, and with a completely open outcome?
A heavy sense of foreboding settled over him. What if his insistence to find a way back had set the ball rolling in the first place? What if the way back was closed for them, with the technology that might have survived here over the centuries... closed for them, but not for a data stream?
He fingered the disc that he wore like a pendant around his neck. He had been determined to send its information back to ANSA somehow, no matter what. They had to know.
Had he lured the crew of that ship to their demise? Would he, in his future? Should he? But the ship had already crashed; if he reconsidered now, he had no idea what repercussions that could possibly have.
"Well, I'm not gonna join them," Burke interrupted his thoughts. "Damn monkeys won't get me a second time." He had the same flat voice as before, the kind of cold determination that at any other time would've alarmed Virdon.
"If we can keep ourselves under control," Galen said with a meaningful undertone, "and stop hoarding secrets as if they'd earn us money, they won't get any of us. We'll make it across the northern mountains and lead a quiet life as unassuming citizens of the northern domain. That is our plan; does anyone have any objections?"
"Sounds good to me," Burke said with an almost audible shrug. Virdon said nothing.
"I suggest we break up this little council then, before one of the villagers notices something out of the ordinary," Galen concluded. "You go with Zana, up to the demarcation line, Peet, and Alan - go to bed. You look as if you'd fall on your face any moment."
The dispersed with little fanfare; Virdon returned to the bed Ehme had chosen for him, and lay down, but sleep was far from his mind. He followed the myriad strands of pasts and futures, tangling and untangling causes and effects, until the gray light of morning sneaked through the doors and rubbed against his burning eyes.
He knew one person stubborn enough, patient enough, faithful enough, to come looking for him across the abyss of time.
And he prayed to God he was wrong.
"Are you sure that this ditch will help to chase the gango away?"
Burke straightened and fumbled for the water flask that was tied to his belt. The protective gloves were nothing more than crude mittens that were tied fast around his wrists, which wasn't a problem as long as he was holding nothing more delicate than the handle of a shovel; uncorking the flask was a different matter.
He took a deep draw and wished he could take off the hood to wipe the sweat from his face; but the constant high-pitched whirring all around them steadied his hands. He rubbed the hood against his face instead.
"I've no idea what a gango is," he told Omi, a boy of maybe fourteen who had been following him like a faithful little dog ever since he had led his work gang into the waterlogged meadow on the other side of the stockade. "But it sure as hell will chase the mosquitos away. Damn little pests." He recorked his flask with some difficulty and took up the shovel again.
Omi followed his example and stabbed at the ground with renewed vigor. "We could use that meadow to graze the geese," he mused. "Or chicken. Or both. Or we could sow a bit of corn." Then his shoulders sagged. "Or the apes can use it for more cotton." He sighed and heaved another load of black, soggy soil on the barrow.
"Maybe the doc can talk to the prefect," Burke suggested after a long stretch of dejected silence. "Tell her it makes sense that you have enough to eat, so you're strong enough to work in their fields."
Omi nodded, but his posture indicated that he didn't harbour much hope that Burke's master would be able to talk sense into Kanla.
How did we become so... so defeated? We had the bomb! We could've nuked the damn monkeys back into their trees! What the hell happened ?
He remembered the ruined city where Virdon had taken a quick dive into the basement. Atlanta, he had told them last night. They had been in Atlanta. He hadn't recognized anything; if Al hadn't told them, he'd never have guessed. He still didn't know how much time had passed, but it was a miracle that anything had been left standing at all.
The apes had never had 21st century level technology, of that Burke was absolutely sure. But apes... or anyone, defeating humanity and taking over the whole planet with civil war era rifles and horses, was just absurd. Something else must've happened.
Guess someone found the red button, and then the monkeys just stepped in and took over. Burke set his foot on the shovel's blade and pushed it down with force. For a moment, he was tempted to tell Omi to just imagine there was an ape's neck under his blade, but decided against it. No use giving the kid ideas that could get him killed.
Didn't mean he couldn't indulge in that fantasy. Make it Urko's neck, for example.
The sweat under his hood felt clammy all of a sudden, and he felt dizzy and nauseous. He wouldn't die from malaria, he'd die from a heat stroke under the damn thing. But he was the foreman - he couldn't just call in sick.
"Mother nature called," he said to Omi. "Be right back - just need to find a place where the skeeters won't eat my dick." He rammed the shovel into the ground and gave the giggling youth a playful poke before he set off towards a little grove of poplars. The trees grew on what amounted to no more than a bump in the meadow, but the slight elevation meant that the spot was comparably dry. Burke hoped that it was dry enough to be unattractive to the mosquitos; he needed to take off that hood, if only for a minute.
Undergrowth was sparse under the trees, and he finally crouched down in a nest of willows that hadn't made it past shrub level. It wasn't perfect, but it had to do - not that he had any problems with the guys seeing him take a piss; but seeing him take a piss without the hood on would be awkward. He was meant to be their model.
He ripped the hood off with a sigh. The air wasn't cool enough to dry his sweat, but it felt good not to wear a bag over his head... Burke blinked. Maybe that's why he felt so choked the whole time. He thoughtfully turned the thing in his hands. Maybe it set off some memory of his time with... in prison. When they had put a bag over his head, and he had almost suffocated from the heat and the lack of air.
Yeah. That could be. But he had to wear the damn thing anyway, it was just sensible. Like he had told Al, they hadn't thought of bringing their anti-malaria meds along for this trip. He rubbed the fabric over his face and neck and reluctantly put it on again. Time to get up and-
He froze in mid-move, then sank back on his haunches; his chest felt as if he'd swallowed a boulder and it got stuck right under his collarbones.
Through the wattling of branches he could see the patrol, reining in their horses now that they were on level with the humans, who had stopped digging. The apes' leader was leaning down a bit on his horse, talking to one of the hooded figures...
Burke felt his mouth water with a new bout of nausea. It wasn't true, it couldn't be true...
The ape was sitting on a white horse. He wore the tall helmet of a high ranking officer. And he was...
And his fur was black.
Urko.
A gigantic paw raked through Burke's gut, leaving white trails of stabbing pain, twisting and tearing and pushing-
He still knew where he was, kneeling in the mud, gloved hands digging into the gnarled web of roots, but everything was dim and far away save for Urko waving his arm impatiently and the human flinching back and-
The room with the rotating table and the tearing pain in his shoulders as they strapped him down, on his belly and the crack of splintering wood behind him and that gravelly voice taunting him.
Maybe it'll be the splintered end, Pete. Not that I'd care.
He frantically tried to push the memory away, out of his mind, tried to focus on something outside, the willow branches, the mosquitos, but nothing was striking enough to overpower the movie that was playing relentlessly, mercilessly, and he couldn't get out, he couldn't jump off, like a nightmare, he knew what was coming and he couldn't stop-
The pain. How could a memory of pain hurt right now, as if it was happening again, right at this moment? But it did, it did, and all he could think of was that he couldn't scream, he couldn't make a sound, and so he just breathed into the mud, lips peeled back, in silent sobs, until it finally played itself out, until Urko was finally done.
He felt dizzy and fainting, and his arms were shaking when he pushed himself up to peek through the screen of willows to confirm for himself that he just had a freaky breakdown and had been hallucinating Urko coming to this god-forsaken place.
The patrol had turned their horses around and were leaving in a hurried trot, and the leader rode a white horse and it was a gorilla and it was Urko and how in hell could he be here? Here, of all places?
Burke ripped the hood off just in time before he violently threw up.
When it was over, he just stayed where he was, too exhausted to think. He felt...
Ashamed.
I can't keep breaking down like that. It's like he cut off my balls, dammit.
He used the hood to wipe his face again. Then he struggled to his feet. The guys would need to keep digging without him for a while. He was positive that they could do it - digging a ditch wasn't rocket science. But he had to warn Galen and Al. They all had to get the hell out of here.
And they had to get Zana before Urko did.
If she was ever getting out of Pendan alive, Zana silently vowed to herself as she swung herself from the window and began to climb down the front of Tilan's house, she'd demand of Galen to change identities and become Orva, seller of crispy mixes, again. The worst they'd have to fear then would be to be sold out of Mango Miracles before noon - nobody would impress them to clean up their self-inflicted messes anymore! No more treating of sick humans that could've stayed healthy if they had simply been kept under species-appropriate conditions...
She ducked behind a low mural when she heard the slow clop of an officer's horse - Elpo, Tilan's colleague and best friend; he had been over for dinner yesterday. It would be an awkward situation if he noticed her now out on the streets of Trion, before sunrise. She waited until the hoofbeats had faded away before she dared to peek over the wall. In the gray light, nothing moved; everyone was asleep, with the exception of the officers of the town watch, and young women on their way to a conspiratorial meeting with their lovers.
Well, she hoped she was the only woman whom that description fit around here; it would be even more awkward to run into another sneaky female with a hidden agenda. How many rule breakers could this town bear with?
She tried hard not to think of Urko as she slipped out of the side gate, no more than a little door in the stockade; learning how to pick locks was such a useful skill that she had no idea how she had managed without it before. She had never thanked Peet for teaching her... it was high time that he got something in return for it. And he needed something to cheer him up, he was always so unhappy now, either withdrawn or furious.
The world was a hazy gray, mist curling up from the marches that would be sucked up as soon as the sun would peek over the horizon, making the air damp and the heat even more unbearable. She was late - the streets were crawling with Urko's men now, who didn't seem to need sleep at all. She would only have some hasty moments with Galen, before she'd have to hurry back. Zana debated for a moment to turn around, and try again the following night; but she didn't dare to let another day creep by, with Urko in town, and Galen and the humans unaware of the danger just a short mile away.
She was nearly collapsing from the exertion when she arrived at the stockade of the humans' village, but at least she hadn't had time to scare herself with fantasies about ghost lights and alligators this time. Peet greeted her from the shadow of their wagon - did he ever sleep? - and slipped inside to get Galen. Zana climbed into the wagon, glad to be able to sit down and catch her breath for a moment.
She was still out of breath, however, when Galen poked his head in. "Zana?" he whispered. "Thank the Mothers that you made it! Urko is here!"
"I know! I'm lodging in the same town as him!" She held up a hand to stop him from distracting her further from her purpose. "I don't have much time - Galen, I think I may have found something that will break the fever. It was in the 'Causes and Cures', not in any of the veterinarian scrolls, so I don't know if it's dangerous for humans, though..." She lit a candle stump and shielded the light with her palm; she wanted to show him the plant drawing that she had marked with a pin. If anyone was wondering about the tiny glow coming from the wagon, Galen and Peet were both there; no reason to assume someone else was also with them.
Peet leaned over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the herb. "You should show that to Al," he remarked, "he grew up on a farm and went hunting and fishing, and frolicking in the woods an' all that stuff. He'll know what it is an' where to find it - if that weed grows here at all, that is."
Galen snatched the scroll out of her hands and scanned it briefly. "Fine. I'll show this to the village healer and tell her how to administer it, and then we're leaving. I'm not going to spend another day here, with Urko that close."
"We can't leave now!" Zana protested. She looked from Galen to Peet, from ape to human, both gaping at her. "We'd need to break through their quarantine cordon, and if Tilan doesn't shoot us, the whole prefecture will be on our heels! Do you really think Urko wouldn't notice that?"
"Are you suggesting we stay put?" Galen grabbed her arm. "You'd have to go back into town... into Trion and stay with Tilan! Do you think Urko wouldn't notice that?"
"Galen's right," Peet said. "It's too dangerous."
"We can't leave these humans to their fate," Zana said firmly. "And we also can't risk raising suspicion. So we just need to be... inconspicuous."
"Be inconspicuous? By staying directly under Urko's nose? Are you out of your mind?" Galen jumped up, but the footwell was too stuffed with their possessions to give him room for pacing. So he just held his head as if it would fall off any moment. Zana flicked a glance to Peet, but the human said nothing, just chewed on the inside of his lip as he watched her with an unreadable expression.
"I'll stay in my room," she said to Galen, "I'm pregnant, I have the perfect excuse - I have a long, gruelling journey behind me, and I need to catch up on sleep and get some rest while I have the opportunity. Tilan's wife has two children, she'll back me up on that. She already has." Ever since Zana had spotted Urko's platoon, she had pretty much kept to her room all day. Inta had sent Forla up with her meals and just remarked that she'd have been happy if Tilan had done the same for her during her pregnancies.
"You find that herb," she said, "and get that fever under control. As soon as the prefect sees that your cure is working, she'll lift the quarantine, and we'll be free to go, nice and normal. If we're lucky, Urko will have left long before that."
"How do you know he's not here because of that plague?" Peet asked. He had leaned back so that his face was no longer illuminated by the candle, and his voice was calm, but Zana could feel the tension radiating from him as if a bushcat had suddenly climbed into their wagon and was now crouching in the shadows, ready to pounce.
"It's a human illness, Peet. I doubt he's interested in that," Galen sat down with a sigh. "It's, it's probably sheer coincidence that he's here. Urko does regular inspection rounds up and down the domain. He justifies it by saying that it's keeping the prefects on their toes, but my father thinks it's because he can't stand staying in the city for too long at a time. He is a Gorilla, after all."
"Hm." Peet didn't sound convinced, but he kept silent after that.
"What if Kanla decides she likes my work so much that she wants to keep us here for good?" Galen muttered. "I had the distinct impression she was already contemplating that when she forced me to find a cure for the human fever. She needs to keep her humans in good condition, if she wants to get her prefecture out of debt."
"That's her problem," Peet said roughly. "I'm not staying, an' neither will Al."
"She can't force you to stay when there's no crisis," Zana said. She stood. "I need to go. The sun will be up soon, and I need to be back in my room long before that."
"I'd really rather you stay here, Zana," Galen muttered. "The thought of you living almost door to door with that... that baboon makes my fur stand on end."
"Don't worry about me, dear." She kissed him, on the cheek, because of the human in the room. "And look at it this way - as long as I'm in Trion, I can keep an eye on Urko."
Peet rose with her. "I'll bring you to the line."
They walked in silence; the human was a brooding shadow at her side. Zana couldn't imagine what he had to be feeling now, with his torturer so close. Was he wishing they had run, like Galen had wanted? Was he frozen inside with terror, like she would've been, if Urko had done to her what he had done to him? Was he... She stopped abruptly and put out a hand to catch his arm.
He didn't flinch, but he froze for a tiny moment before he relaxed.
"Peet," Zana said. "Promise me you're not... not planning something stupid."
In the weak light of dawn, she saw him turn his head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean something suicidal." She squeezed his arm for emphasis. "Promise me you won't seek out Urko."
She heard him sigh, saw him tilt his head back, staring at the sky. His teeth were gleaming in a grin, or a snarl. "Ah, Zana." He shook himself. "You know me too well."
She didn't let go. "Promise me, Peet. On the blood of your mother."
He flinched a bit at that, but kept silent. Zana waited.
"Sun will be up soon," he finally said.
"That's right," Zana confirmed.
The silence stretched, not because he was testing her resolve, but because he was struggling; and when he finally sighed, and muttered, "I'll promise I won't come near the damn bastard... on the... on the blood of my mother," she didn't feel relieved.
Not at all.
She patted him awkwardly on the arm. "Life will be better north of the mountains, Peet. You'll see."
He didn't say anything to that.
When they reached the willow with the red band of the plague warning in its branches, it was Peet who held her back. "Be careful yourself, Zana," he warned. "Don't think you have to get intel on him at all costs. If he sees you, you'll be all alone - and you can't outrun him.
"And we'll never know he'll be coming."
There he was, telling Virdon of a school project they were doing right now, although Virdon couldn't understand what kind of project it was, even when Chris showed it to him; Virdon stared at the strings of colored light bending and twisting between Chris' fingers, and Chris was rattling down mathematical formulas that were completely incomprehensible to him. Virdon felt humbled and frustrated, and dimly aware that he was dreaming, but Chris' presence was so clear and real, and God, he had missed him so much, and it was so good to be with him again, even if his son was focused on the light between his hands-
He became aware of the thin, lumpy straw mattress below him, digging into his sore hip, and of the hand that was softly shaking his shoulder. The dream went out like a snuffed candle, and he was back... back in another dream. The one that refused to end.
Virdon drew a deep breath and rolled on his back. Ehme's worried face hovered above him. "I'm sorry to wake you, Tamas," she murmured, "but your master wants to see you."
Virdon sat up with a grunt. The night had been gruelling, with another six people dying, and four new arrivals, two of them already in bad condition. He had directed the... the disposal of the dead bodies - poor Pete would have to dig another communal grave today - and helped to bathe the two men in the cold water from the well to get the fever down. They had to repeat it at least four times before the temperature stayed down, although it was still not back to normal. Virdon expected the fever to rise again over the course of the morning. He still wasn't sure that the drop had anything to do with their efforts - these ups and downs were typical for malaria.
And now Galen wanted to see him, when he felt as if he had closed his eyes just five minutes ago. Virdon rubbed his face and tried to wake up completely. Whatever it was had to be important enough to deny him his sorely needed sleep, but no emergency, or Galen wouldn't have sent Ehme.
Urko still hasn't found us, I assume. I hope.
The thought of the gorilla was enough to wake him up completely. He reached for his crutch and slowly made his way to Galen's office.
The chimp looked as tired out as Virdon felt, with red-rimmed eyes and tousled fur as if he had been tearing at his hair. Viron lowered himself into the only chair in the room and wished for a cup of coffee. "You wanted to see me?"
Galen rubbed his eyes. "Yes. I'm sorry to rouse you at this time of the day, but Zana came by and..."
"Zana? Where is she now?"
Galen sighed and tugged at his hair. "She went back to Trion."
"What?" Virdon stared up at him, wide awake now. "Why in the world would she... why in the world would you let her go back? Urko..."
"I know, I know! Don't you think I tried to talk sense into her? She insisted that it would be impossible to break out without him noticing, and that we would have a better chance if we, if we just stayed as inconspicuous as possible. And resolve this," he made a swipe with his arm, indicating the village and the whole situation, "as quickly as possible, too, so that Kanla will lift the quarantine. Which is why I called you. Zana has found an herb that has been used to treat this kind of up-and-down fever, and with good success, according to this work." He unrolled the scroll and turned it around to show it to Virdon. "Peet said you know a lot of herbs. Does this look familiar to you?"
Virdon craned his neck and studied the drawing. It was well done, very exact, and he had no problem recognizing the herb. "That looks like wormwood. What does the text say?" In the weeks of his recovery, Zana had begun to teach him the apes' script, to pass him the time and distract him from the pain, but he still wasn't fluent, and right now, he was too tired to try and make sense of the markings.
Galen turned the scroll back, and began to read. "The stem is brown or violet, and without hairs. The leaves are the length of a finger, and are divided by deep cuts into two or three small leaflets. The whole plant can grow to the height of a grown ape, but is mostly just about as high as a child. The leaves, when rubbed, exude a strong scent. It grows in warm, sunny places and dislikes standing in stagnant water, which is a sign that it also dislikes all pests flourishing in and around stagnant waters." He let the scroll sink. "For use against the fever, I need the young upper parts, and especially the flowers. The flowers are little green-yellow knobs..."
Virdon nodded. "I know the plant. My mother used it to deworm our farm animals. But as you said, it dislikes stagnant water. It might be difficult to find some around here."
"Ehme will go with you." Galen rolled up the scroll and put it back into its container. "She is the apprentice of old Duna, and will take over as village healer one day, so she is familiar with all the places where you might be lucky. You had planned to go collect some herbs later today anyway, or so she told me."
"Yes." He had already told the villagers to burn green reeds and herbs, and soft, rotten wood, to at least keep the concentration of mosquitoes down inside the village; but there were some more herbs he wanted to show Ehme - she knew tansy, and they already used the plant to rub on their skin to keep the gnats at bay, but if you mixed the dried and powdered herb with pennyroyal, fleabane, and sawdust, you had a much more potent fumigation at your disposal.
Ehme poked her head through the curtain. "I packed some hot tea, and bread and cheese, master."
So, they'd eat breakfast on the go. Virdon suppressed a sigh and drew himself up on his crutch. Ehme handed him a woven pannier and helped him to strap it on; Virdon wondered just how much wormwood Galen was expecting them to bring back.
"I'm aware that some humans are extracting alcohol from rotten fruit," Galen said to Ehme, and held up his hand when she started to protest. "I know it's forbidden; I don't care at all." He smiled at her stunned silence. "So if you'd drop a word that I need as much of your - 'moon beams', I believe you call it, as possible, I'd be so grateful. You see, I need to steep that herb in alcohol, otherwise the medicine won't work. No off you go, and try to bring back as much as possible."
"You're making moonshine?" Virdon swallowed the 'still' at the last moment; he couldn't let slip to her that he had not only come from a faraway place, but also a faraway time. He tried to imagine Burke's glee when he'd learn of the existence of moonshine; maybe they'd even find a coffee plantation somewhere. The climate had changed enough to make it possible.
He returned his attention to Ehme, who was still mortified. "You know how distillation works? I need to talk to your men when we get back. You see, you can also distill the oils from aromatic herbs..."
They had quite a distance to walk until the ground was dry enough to make him hopeful they would get lucky; Virdon wasn't sure they were even inside the quarantine zone anymore. If Tilan or some other officer on patrol saw them out there, he'd shoot them before they'd have a chance to explain themselves. If they came across Urko...
It was no use thinking about that now. He determinedly turned his attention to their search.
It was Ehme, though, who saw it first - a big enough patch to fill both their baskets; since they were only cutting the tips, there was no need to spread out their harvest area. The plants would simply sprout new stalks, and even more than before. If Galen's cure worked, the village would have an unlimited supply of anti-malaria medicine.
"I think we can go back and bring the doctor the first load," he said, "so that he can start making the medicine. Maybe we can go back by the main ditch - we should have a good chance of finding the plants there that I told you about earlier. Fleabane loves wet places, and so does pennyroyal. Funny how all the plants that help against marsh fever grow in the marches, hm?" He smiled at her.
Ehme shrugged. "The Mothers give the illness and the cure. Duna has tried willow bark - that had helped against the fevers before. Just this one is different; nothing has helped." She sighed. "She said that our forebears knew many more herbs, but the teachers were killed, and the knowledge was lost with them."
Virdon didn't ask who had killed those teachers, or why. He had a pretty good idea about-
His leg gave out all of a sudden.
He grabbed his crutch with both hands, trying to stay upright, but his leg was on fire, and twisting inside, all the muscles cramping up at once. Virdon slid to the ground with a huff and grabbed his thigh. For a moment, the pain was too intense to even moan; he couldn't draw a breath to do that. He was aware of Ehme unhooking the straps of his pannier, but the agony was drowning out most of his surroundings.
When the drilling pain finally subsided to a dull ache, he lay back with an exhausted sigh. The sun burned on his closed eyelids, painting fireworks on the background glow. For a while he just lay there, soaking up the warmth, trying to convince his leg that the warmth was soothing the cramps.
Ehme had sat down beside him. "What happened to your leg?"
"Hunting accident." Apes often used their human slaves as beaters. Sometimes, a human was mistaken for a deer. It was the most unsuspicious explanation.
"Can I see the wound?"
"It's already scarred over." Virdon felt uncomfortable. He wasn't in the habit of letting his pants down in front of random females, human or simian.
"The scarring may be the problem." Ehme sounded calm, professional. She was a healer's apprentice, Virdon reminded himself.
"Alright..." He nestled the string open that ran through the waistband and nudged the fabric down just far enough for the scar to show.
Ehme ran a warm finger down its length. "That doesn't look like a hole from a bullet."
"No, that's... that's farther to the side." Virdon tried to ignore the butterflies sensation that her touch had stirred deep inside. "A... a colleague of my... of the doctor cut me open and took the bullet out. The wound had gotten infected."
Her fingers were still touching his skin.
"Sometimes scars can cause pain, when they go deep into the flesh," Ehme murmured and bent deeper over his exposed hip. "They knit together layers of skin and muscle and that can constrict your range of motion, or pinch a nerve." Her breath on his skin was like a caress. Virdon squeezed his eyes shut again and tried to focus on the sun's warmth instead of the other warmth pooling in his gut.
"You should massage that scar, so that it softens and doesn't cause you so much pain," he heard Ehme say. "Like this." She began to softly rub over his scarred flesh, and Virdon held his breath and began to recite the digits of pi in his mind.
"First you rub the scar in a circular motion, like this," he heard Ehme's voice, and maybe he was imagining it, but it sounded huskier than before. "And don't apply too much pressure while you're doing that. After that, you want to break up those adhesions, that means you'll rub in one direction and for that, you need to apply a bit more pressure..."
The touch became firm now, lighting a spark, and there was a different pressure now mounting in him, and this was all in the too close vicinity of-
He sat up as if a spring had released in his spine, and covered her hand with his, stopping her movements. "I think I understood the principle of it, I'll make sure to massage it from now on." He drew a shuddering breath. Her hand was still resting under his, on his groin.
"You should use oil for it, to soften it up more," she said, holding his gaze.
"That's... that's a good idea," he managed to keep his voice steady. "It really... I think it won't cause as many problems when it's soft." He reached for his waistband with his other hand and pulled it up, and Ehme finally took her hand away. Virdon got up on his knees, facing away from her, and fumbled with the drawstring. "We should go back," he mumbled. "The doctor is probably wondering what took us so long."
"He knows you have a bad leg," Ehme commented while she helped him to strap on his pannier, "I mean, you got it because of him. Don't worry so much, Tamas." She rounded him and cupped his face in her hand. "Everything will turn out just fine." She smiled at him, and for a moment, Virdon was sure she would kiss him. But she just turned away and bent down to retrieve his crutch.
The sun was burning down on his neck even more viciously than before, but Virdon hardly noticed it. I'm married. I'm still married. Time didn't mean a thing when you could cross it like you could cross an ocean. He'd find a way back over that abyss, and Sally would be there, alive, and she'd cup his face and kiss him. And then they'd make love, and he'd cry into her shoulder, or maybe she'd cry in his, and he'd hold her, and kiss her, and vow to never leave her again.
I only want her. Only her.