"As soon as your head hurts, or you get dizzy, or your leg hurts, or... or anything, you tell me, understood?"
Ennis cast a quick glance over his shoulder to his human, who was slowly following him through the underbrush. Even further behind him, Ennis' bodyguard was crunching dead twigs under his boots. When Zatis was with him, they often watched birds or other wild animals - that wouldn't be possible with this guard in tow.
Well, Ennis hadn't planned to go birdwatching with his human. He hadn't really planned anything, except for taking him outside. After two weeks, he was impatient to finally do something with Taris.
His human smiled at him. "I'm fine, Master, no need to worry."
"Yes, but I'm responsible for you," Ennis said pompously. "And Dr. Ropal said you mustn't overstrain yourself. So you have to tell me at once."
Taris dipped his head, still smiling. "I will, promise."
"Good." Ennis turned away again, and pointed ahead. "It's not far anyway. It's that little grove, see? I used to go there with my mother when I was little. I liked it, but I haven't been there anymore for a long time."
Not since his mother had left their home, and he wouldn't have gone there today, either, but it was the only place that didn't require climbing a steep slope; climbing would've been too demanding for Taris and his poor head.
Well, the river didn't require climbing, either, but Ennis didn't want to go there. Who knew if something there would stir Taris' memory, and then he'd remember... whatever.
Ennis determinedly put his mind to something else. "Why are you limping, actually? Dr. Ropal says it's not from your plunge in the river. He said it's an old injury."
"I don't know," Taris said after a pause. "It's part of the life I've lost."
Of course he wouldn't know. Ennis felt stupid for asking, but couldn't stop speculating. "Dr. Ropal said it's a gunshot wound. Maybe a hunter shot you... or a farmer, when you tried to steal something to eat... I wonder how you got away, I don't think you were able to run with a bullet in your hip..."
"Like I said, I don't remember anything about it," Taris said, but now the smile was gone from his voice.
They were slowly crossing a meadow now, the wilted grass swishing against their legs, and Ennis turned fully around, walking backwards, to watch Taris' face. The human seemed pensive, a faraway look in his eyes.
Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to talk so much about his Before.
"What's in your bag?" Ennis pointed at the canvas bag slung across Taris' back. "We're almost there, so you can tell me." He could've ordered the human to tell him, but Taris had said it was a surprise, and Ennis didn't want to spoil his fun.
"Well, I could almost tell you," Taris smiled, but his voice still sounded absent-minded. "The doctor also said that the other scar looks as if I had surgery," he mused. "Simian surgery, nothing a human could do. So maybe I did belong to another ape once? One who brought me to a doctor after I was shot?"
Now this was a notion that Ennis didn't want him to pursue. "Or it was someone who found you, like I did. Madame Zorya from the Human Protection Society runs a shelter, and they take care of abandoned and abused humans there. And sometimes they bring her wildlings, too... cubs who lost their mothers in a hunt, for example. They call for Dr. Ropal if the human is injured or sick."
Taris frowned. "Do you think that Madame Zorya could tell me about my former life?"
Ennis shrugged. "If they brought you in from the wild, what could she tell you? She doesn't live with you wildlings in the woods. And she's the chairwoman of the Society, I don't think she takes care of the humans herself. She's just the administrator. She sometimes meets my father for lunch, and they talk about all kinds of things."
"What things?" Taris wanted to know.
Ennis puffed up his cheeks. "Boring things."
Taris laughed, and Ennis secretly let out a sigh of relief. "Alright, but now we're really there." He pointed to the treeline ahead of them. "Now you can show me your surprise."
"You remember the crooked wing I made?" Taris reached into his bag and pulled it out.
"Yes," Ennis said. "You threw it in the yard, and it came back to you, for some reason."
"The trick is in how you throw it," Taris said, and winked at him. "I'll show you how."
It wasn't as easy as Taris made it look, and Ennis had to run and retrieve the toy whenever he tried to throw it himself - he didn't allow Taris to go fetch it, because the human was still in recovery. But Taris was a patient teacher, full of praise for anything Ennis did right, and he found something to praise in every single throw; and thus Ennis didn't break off their lesson, for fear of hurting the human's feelings, although his own excitement had given way to frustration a long time ago.
But then he threw it just right.
He could already feel it when he let go of the wing - could feel the rightness in the fluid motion of his arm, of his whole body; in the humming tension that arched through him from his feet through his chest, into his arm and into the wood, and felt like lightning pushing it from his hand; felt it in the smooth flow of the wing's flight, away and up, and up, and back, back in a bold curve, a whirring blade coming straight at his head-
His hand shot up, and the wood smacked against it, nested in his palm like a wild and joyous bird, the impact sending a prickling pain down to his elbow, a burst of energy he had never felt before.
"I did it!" he screamed at a grinning Taris. "Did you see that? It came back, and I caught it!"
"I saw it!" Taris called back, and clapped his hands. "Well done! Do you want to try it again?"
"Yes, I..."
And then another figure stepped into the clearing behind Taris, slowly clapping her hands, too, and the toy fell from Ennis' numb fingers. Taris, alarmed by his reaction, spun around to face her.
Behind Ennis, the guard uttered a sharp command.
"No, don't!" Ennis held up his hand. "It's alright, it's... she's... she's my mother."
The woman came closer, a sly smile on her face as if she and Ennis were sharing a joke. "I'm glad you still know me - for a moment, I was afraid your bodyguard would shoot."
"What are you doing here?" Ennis said slowly.
She spread her arms, still smiling. "Visiting my son. Or isn't that allowed anymore?"
"How did you know I'd be here today?" She looked exactly as he remembered her, which was strange, for some reason. After all this time, Ennis had thought she'd be different somehow - wilder, maybe. Running away to live with another man, leaving him and Father, was the wildest thing he could imagine.
But she looked as she always had - the only thing different were her clothes: trousers and a tunic like a guardsman, a poncho on top. She had thrown back the hood, but if she pulled it up, she'd just melt into the woods again, as invisible as she had been until just a moment before.
"Well, this was our special place, remember?" His mother turned her head and surveyed the clearing, and Ennis involuntarily followed her gaze. Wilted grass, naked trees, the sky hanging low and dark above the treetops.
In his memory, it had always been summer, and the wind had rustled the leaves above their heads, and his mother had played ball with him, or read him stories. Ennis swallowed heavily and bent down to pick up his crooked wing. "I actually never come here anymore," he murmured.
"What a lucky day this is, then, when we both decided to come back here," his mother said softly.
Ennis flicked her a glance. "You're not really coming back, are you?"
She averted her gaze, and bit her lip, and Ennis fought the urge to hurl the wing at her head.
"I wanted to give you your birthday present." She smiled wryly at his expression. "You thought I had forgotten your birthday? What kind of mother would I be? But I didn't want to send it through the mail. One never knows what your father deems inappropriate for you. So many things can get lost in the mail."
She pulled a leather strap over her head, and Ennis realized that she had been carrying a bag, just like Taris had, but her bundle was long and straight, and he couldn't suppress a bout of curiosity at its contents.
His mother nodded encouragingly at him. "Take it. It's yours. See if you like it."
Ennis let the wooden wing drop into the grass and stepped forward to take the bundle; and suddenly, his mother had caught him in a fierce embrace and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Mothers bless your years," she whispered. "May many lie before you."
She released him just as suddenly, and he stumbled back, the leather bundle heavy in his hand. He just had to look what it was - how could she have carried it all the way from Aboro's prefecture to here? He hastily untied the leather straps and unwrapped it.
It was a telescope.
It was beautiful.
Ennis gently brushed his fingertips along the brass cylinder and the polished rings that were glinting golden in the weak light of the winter sun, admiring the delicate work of the eyepiece. It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen. He turned to Taris.
"Zatis will go crazy, Tir! He'll use it for bird watching, wanna bet? As long as he drags it out into the woods himself, I don't mind..."
"You could watch the moon and the stars with it, from the rooftop," Taris suggested after a moment. He rubbed his head, as if it was hurting again. "The, the moon has dark spots on it... you could see them more clearly..."
"Oh, good idea! And you could show me the stars again, the one that tells you where north is that you told me about!"
"I can do that," Taris murmured, still staring at the telescope.
"Do you have a pet now?" His mother's voice was neutral, and her face betrayed nothing as she let her gaze wander over Taris, from his head to his new moccasins.
Still, Ennis felt a stab of guilt lancing through his gut. His mother had adamantly been against using humans as workers, or pets, or anything, really. Humans didn't belong in simian settlements, she had always said. If anything, they belonged into the wild, to run free with the other animals of the woods and mountains.
"I found him at the riverbank," he said defensively. "He would've died if I hadn't taken him in."
"But he's not dying now, is he?" His mother gestured at Taris, who had quietly picked up the crooked wing, and was now stuffing it into his bag. "He looks healthy enough to me."
"Yes, but..." Ennis could feel his fur bristle. "He's lost his memory - he can't remember anything, not even his name. He doesn't know where to go, he needs a home!"
"A human's home is the wilderness, not the living room of an ape," his mother said sternly. "You know that, Ennis."
"Didn't you listen?" Ennis snapped. "He doesn't remember anything, he'd die out there!"
"Animals die all the time in the wild, Ennis, that's the circle of life!" His mother shook her head, exasperated. "It's the way of nature - what is born, must die, and the weak feed the strong. If you interfere with that, you'll just upset the natural balance!"
Ennis gaped at her, at loss for words. She was wrong, wrong, and he wouldn't give up his human, not to her and not to anyone, but Mothers, he wished he knew how to prove her wrong!
"So you are against taking medicine, and calling a doctor, too?" Taris' calm voice cut in.
Ennis whipped his head around, too stunned to reprimand him.
His mother flicked Taris a disdainful glance, but couldn't ignore the challenge. "Of course not. We aren't animals."
"But certainly you won't deny that you're also a part of nature? Part of that natural balance?" If Taris was mocking her, it wasn't noticeable; nothing in his face or voice betrayed ridicule. He seemed to be nothing but eager to understand.
His mother didn't say anything. Maybe it had occurred to her, belatedly, that as an ape you didn't discuss philosophy with a human.
"Well, be that as it may," Taris said briskly, "I prefer to be alive, and I'm grateful that Master Ennis saved me from my certain death."
"No creature wants to be enslaved by another creature," his mother said softly. "It pains me to see how your head injury robbed you of your most basic instinct - the longing for freedom."
He's not my slave, Ennis protested silently, he's my friend!
"If Ennis here had followed your logic, I'd be dead," Taris said. "He treats me very well, I have a good life now."
"Freedom is the highest good of all." Ennis felt his mother's eyes on him, but found it impossible to meet her gaze. Hot shame filled him... and anger, equally hot. "Higher even than life, no matter how comfortable," his mother continued. "Many have chosen death over slavery."
"We all die someday," Taris said calmly. "Ape or human, it's the only certainty in life. But I'm not eager to hasten that day's arrival."
"We need to go," Ennis decided. He had to get away from here, right now, before his mother persuaded Taris to follow her into the shadow of the trees, into the wild, away from him. "I have Scroll study, and it starts in less than a quarter atseht. Come on, Tir, let's go." He turned away from his mother and grabbed the human's sleeve. "I can't be late for my lesson."
"Don't forget your telescope," Taris murmured, and bent to pick it up.
"You carry it," Ennis murmured back. "Thank you for the telescope, I really like it," he called over his shoulder. "I gotta go."
"Think of me when you reach for the stars with it," his mother called after him. Ennis waved back in acknowledgment and lengthened his stride.
He'd give the thing to Zatis. His teacher loved birds. Zatis would put it to good use.
He felt like crying.
It seemed to be always raining in the damn mountains, which meant that Burke was more slipping in the mud than running, especially since every damn square foot of ground was angled either up- or downwards.
But worse than the mud under his feet was the water on his face. It wasn't enough that the rain was pouring down in buckets, the twigs and branches hitting his face doused him with it, too, as he fought his way through the underbrush. Uphill, then downhill again, the cursed routine Marpo had beaten into him, back in Sapan, when he hadn't been more than a racing horse... and then a...
Another branch with dripping, leathery leaves hit him square in the face, and for a second, Burke felt as if he'd throw up. He couldn't breathe, he was-
NOT drowning in a bucket. Snap out of it, for fuck's sake!
Burke stopped, bent over with his hands on his thighs, and forced himself to take slow, measured breaths. He stayed like that even after the nausea had receded, eyes squeezed shut against the memories threatening to peel off from the edges of his awareness and swim into focus.
Not going there. Not going there. That was then, and this is now...
Maybe it had been stupid to insist on his runs. Maybe it was stupid to try to get his flashbacks and panic attacks under control like that. He was no shrink; maybe he was doing it all wrong, this kind-of aversion therapy he was inflicting on himself, and maybe he shouldn't try proving to Zana that he was still his own master by defying her wishes that he stay inside Chubla's walls, safe from those KKK monkeys.
But maybe he wasn't trying to prove anything to Zana. Maybe he was trying to prove something to himself.
Yeah, you're doing a shit job with that, Master Burke.
He straightened and drew another deep, defiant breath. Since he had promised their freshly-minted veterinarian that he'd ride shotgun - literally - on his doctor rounds, he soon wouldn't have time for these runs around Chubla, anyway. Right at this moment, Galen was buying a new wagon and outfitting it - with taxpayer money, since he was now working for Voltis - which meant that this was Burke's last day of what counted as freedom in this world. So he'd better enjoy it.
It was pretty clear that Galen hoped to keep that position permanently; and why not? It was the apes' best shot at having that normal life they were both craving. Burke couldn't really fault them for it; he'd have loved to get his old life back, too, but contrary to him, Zana and Galen had a realistic chance of making their dream come true here. They had finally reached the fabled North; Urko was off their backs (except his back, he was carrying the damn gorilla with him, in his dreams, and in his bones, and maybe the crazy devil would haunt him for the rest of his days...)
Anyway. They had made it, and now the apes wanted to settle down. Chubla was nice enough, Burke supposed, as he slowly walked back towards town - for an ape, anyway. They could find a place for themselves here, and he was happy for Zana, he really was, she deserved it, but it also meant that Galen would have to play nice with Voltis.
And that meant that Galen couldn't push too hard for Al's release anymore. Burke batted at another wet leaf in frustration, and muttered a curse when the plant retaliated with a spray of water.
On the other hand, what could Galen really do? He had sworn up and down that he had tried to buy Virdon back, but that Voltis had flat out refused. His son wanted to keep the 'wildling' as his pet, and the chief indulged his son.
Plus there was the tiny problem of Virdon wanting to be the little monkey's pet, too.
Movement and voices ahead of him jolted Burke out of his ruminations; he frowned and slowly approached the clearing, careful not to make a sound. He still wasn't as silent as Virdon - and would probably never be - but with everything soaked and unable to crunch, he managed to get to the edge of the meadow without alerting the people standing in the middle of it.
It was Al and his little monkey, playing fetch with a boomerang. Of course; most apes hated getting their fur wet, but the kid apparently had a penchant for wandering around in the rain, otherwise he wouldn't have found Virdon that day. It irked Burke to think that he might have come just minutes too late - if that ape had been wired normally like all his fellows, he'd have stayed home, and they wouldn't be in this trouble now. Maybe Virdon would've even gotten his memory back by now, if he'd seen his old team first, and not some foreign monkey telling him that he belonged to him.
But as it was now, getting Virdon to remember his true self seemed almost impossible, with the kid restricting their access to him. He also seemed to have lost the data disc - at least Burke hadn't seen anything hanging around Virdon's neck - so the only piece of evidence that they didn't belong to this ape-ruled world was gone, too.
The little monkey froze all of a sudden, Virdon spun around, alarmed, and Burke felt the same jolt of alarm jumping from his heart into his limbs when the guard yanked his rifle to his shoulder and aimed at his friend-
No, at another ape stepping out into the clearing. The kid waved the guard to stand down, and the new ape came closer. Burke could see that it was a woman, wearing something like ape camo; she was smiling, but the little group facing her stayed tense. None of them smiled back.
Burke began to silently make his way around the clearing, closer to where the apes and Virdon were talking now. Anyone who made the little monkey that uneasy was someone he wanted to know more about.
By the time he had reached a spot where he could overhear the conversation, Virdon had begun to debate with the ape woman. Burke raised his brow - dontcha know that us animals aren't allowed to talk back to our gentle masters, Al? Or is that your old self peeking out under all that faulty reprogramming?
Apparently, Virdon had taken the ape woman by surprise, too, because she was now addressing him directly. "No creature wants to be enslaved by another creature," Burke heard her say. "It pains me to see how your head injury robbed you of your most basic instinct - the longing for freedom."
Behind his shrub, Burke blinked. Maybe Zana had been right, and there really existed other apes like her? Apes who wanted humans to be free? Maybe she wasn't such a singular anomaly as he had thought...
"Freedom is the highest good of all," the ape was saying now. "Higher even than life, no matter how comfortable. Many have chosen death over slavery."
You're my kind of ape, lady.
The kid and Al didn't seem to think so, judging by their hasty retreat. Burke didn't know if he wanted to grin about the little monkey's discomfort, or frown about Virdon's, but those deliberations dropped from his mind when he saw the ape woman turn around and head for the underbrush. In her ape camo, she'd melt into the vegetation in no time, and if she was as good at moving silently as Virdon, he'd lose her in seconds.
He quickly stepped out into the clearing, and clapped his hands in sardonic applause.
"That was a damn fine speech," he said when she whirled around to face him. "I almost believed you."
The ape frowned at him, but didn't seem surprised at his sudden appearance. "How long have you been listening in to my conversation with my son?"
Now it was Burke's turn to hide his surprise. This ranger ape was the kid's mother? And she had to sneak up to him in the wild, and risk getting shot by the kid's guard?
"Long enough to learn that they kicked you to the curb, Mom," he gambled, and hid a grin when the ape's frown deepened. So he'd been right - the chief and his wife had some divorce thing going. And Voltis had guardianship of the kid. Well, he was the top dog around here...
Sucks to be a politician's ex-wife, huh?
"Hey, I know what it's like," he added. "I'm in the same boat, my friend doesn't know me anymore, either. Prefers to spend his life as your kid's pet now."
Now the chimp did seem surprised. "That was your friend?"
"I liked to think so," Burke muttered.
The woman chuckled. "You seem to disapprove of the new arrangement."
"Hell yes!" Why he was chatting with that monkey was beyond him. If he'd had a plan when he'd stepped into the clearing, Burke couldn't remember it anymore.
"So you don't think it's a human's natural place?" The woman asked slyly. "How does that go over with your master?"
"We've had our disagreements," Burke admitted, remembering Galen's exasperated face that seemed to be his standard expression when the ape was dealing with him. "But you're one to talk - you don't think it's our place, either."
"I don't think you have any place at all in our society," the ape said, her voice suddenly cold.
Burke grinned, unfazed by her show of tough attitude. "Whaddaya know, we're on the same page... scroll here, lady."
"Then why aren't you getting your friend out of this situation? The longer he stays in Voltis' household, the more this wrong belief will settle in his mind."
Burke laughed, incredulous. "How in hell do you imagine I'd do that? In case you hadn't noticed, your kid always has an armed guard nearby. And Al... my friend wouldn't cooperate, either - he'd probably knock me out an' call the guards himself."
It pained him to talk shit about Virdon, but... but it was probably the truth. Al would call the guards. The damn monkeys had thoroughly brainwashed him.
"I see," the woman said slowly. She began to pace, her face drawn in deep thought. "In order to regain his memory as a wildling, he needs to be exposed to the wilderness first - but as long as he doesn't remember, he'll vigorously resist going back there. Quite a conundrum."
"In a nutshell," Burke scoffed. The ape threw him an unreadable glance, and he wondered if he had used some ape proverb without meaning to. Apes and nuts sort of went together, right?
"Maybe I can help you," the ape said suddenly. "I have means to... facilitate a transfer to a remote location."
Burke narrowed his eyes. "Why would you wanna help me?"
"I don't want my son to keep a human as a pet," the chimp said curtly. "And you don't want your friend to be my son's pet. It seems to me that we have a common goal here."
"Alright," Burke admitted grudgingly. Not that he trusted her more than any other monkey, which was as far as he could throw them... but she had seemed to be pretty pissed off at the sight of her son playing with Al.
"I gather you're not from around here?" the ape interrupted his brooding.
"There's a Forbidden Zone to the west of this district - perfect for escaping the grasp of a simian master," she continued when he shook his head. "A number of humans have already done so. Once I get your friend out of Voltis' house, you can meet us at the border, and then take him deep inside, and..." she spread her arms, "... work on restoring his memory."
Burke had a fleeting vision of an enraged Virdon, insisting that he was really Taris and demanding to be taken back to his master. "I'd have to tie him down for god knows how long," he mused. "But... yeah, seems it's our best chance. But how do you wanna get him out of the house? It's heavily guarded."
The woman smiled. "I once lived there, remember? Trust me, I know what I'm doing."
Burke didn't bother to share his philosophy about trusting an ape with her; he resolved to find out everything he could about the woman, starting with her name, as soon as he was back in Chubla. It shouldn't be too hard, unless Voltis had divorced more than one wife. "Fine with me. When?"
The chimp casually flapped her hand. "I'll let you know," she said. "I just need to know who your master is, so I can find you."
"Doctor Kova." It grated on him that she was calling all the shots, but... he couldn't let this opportunity slip. Considering Galen's conflicted loyalties, he'd be stupid not to have a plan B running in the background.
The chimp raised her brows in mock respect. "A doctor? I'm impressed."
"Yeah, he's taking over from the old vet," Burke muttered, and the ape's brows managed to rise even higher.
"Interesting," she remarked. "Well, I'll contact you when it's time for you to run."
She turned to leave. "You really shouldn't roam these parts on your own," she added over her shoulder. "It would be regrettable if you'd get yourself killed before I can return your friend to you."
With that, she vanished into the underbrush, her green-flecked poncho disguising her perfectly, just as Burke had known it would.
He left the meadow in the opposite direction, back to Chubla. He wasn't overly concerned about the woman's warning; once his job as "Dr. Kova's" orderly began - probably tomorrow - he wouldn't have any opportunity to get himself killed on his morning runs anymore, anyway.
What was more exciting was the chimp's promise to bust Virdon from Voltis' gilded cage. Her call would be on short notice, so he'd better start building a stash of survival gear now. Provisions... and enough rope to tie Al down for at least a year.
The only thing Burke regretted was that he had never bothered to learn the apes' script. Zana would've deserved a farewell note, and an explanation.
He hoped she'd still understand.
