"A greenhouse!" Zorya leaned back in her seat and frowned. "Do you have any idea how expensive that is?"
She hadn't asked where in the world did you get that outlandish idea from, for which Zana was grateful. It would've been difficult to explain that it had been born from the desire to one-up her husband's new assistant.
Coming up with a more rational justification on the spot proved to be challenging in its own right, though.
"But we could cultivate opers in it," she blurted out, snatching the first thing from that cursed conversation with Hamez that floated up from memory. "We could sell them for an outrageous price, and earn back the money for the greenhouse in no time!"
Zorya rubbed her brow, failing to hide her exasperation behind the gesture. "Opers... Mila, I don't know how much experience you have with gardening..."
None at all, but I'm quick on the uptake.
"... but opers are notoriously difficult to cultivate. Even in the South they haven't had much success with them, outside their natural habitat. It's not just the temperature, and the incredibly high intolerance to wind; it also needs to have its roots steeped in warm water at all times, and certain nutrients in the water, and you'd have to pollinate it by hand..."
"I see you've given some thought to this yourself," Zana said slyly.
Zorya dropped her hand onto the desk. "I have," she admitted. "I even ordered some scrolls about oper cultivation from the City's horticultural society. But after reading those scrolls, I've come to my senses. It's just not feasible to try it up here."
"Our temperatures aren't that much lower than in the South," Zana protested.
"No, they aren't, at least not during the summer, but we're in the mountains, Mila. We're at a higher elevation, and that means our summers are shorter, and the winters are cooler, and bring much more rain. We have landslides every winter, as you've experienced yourself."
She had; they had almost lost Alan to one of those landslides, and Zana didn't want to dwell on that memory right now.
"But that's exactly what a greenhouse is for," she argued. "It prolongs the warm season for the plants inside it, it provides shelter against the winds—"
"If those winds are strong enough, they will shatter the glass," Zorya interrupted her. "And a greenhouse consists of nothing but wood beams and glass, and do you know how much just one pane of glass costs? Even if I agreed with you that it's an experiment worth undertaking, and even though I do agree with you that if we managed to cultivate opers up here, the shelter wouldn't have to worry about money for the rest of its existence — we simply don't have the money to build one. I'm sorry, Mila, I really am, but we just cannot afford to buy one glass pane, let alone so many of them."
"Oh." Zana slumped in her seat. Damn. She'd have to admit defeat to Hamez before she'd even had a chance to begin, and would probably have to endure his faked offer to buy those glass panels for her, knowing full well that she'd refuse his disingenuous generosity.
It had been a dumb idea. And now she felt dumb, and embarrassed to have displayed her stupid eagerness before Zorya, who now probably also had second thoughts about her intelligence.
"Well—" Zorya leaned across the desk and covered Zana's hand with hers. "I really am sorry. It would've been a great project for the shelter. But... we could do something similar. Build that wooden framework, and instead of glass, we could use fabric panels — you know, very thin fabric. It would still catch the heat, and shield against the wind, even if it wouldn't be sufficient for growing opers, but we could try our hands at other delicate plants, like sweet leaf, or kikil , or sugar ferns, or..."
Zorya, Zana noticed with slight alarm, was an avid gardener. She had a subscription for the City's Horticultural Society's periodicals, for Cesar's sake! If Zana agreed to this pared-down greenhouse project, Zorya would probably drop by every day to check on her progress; and then it wouldn't take long for Aska and her gang to trail after her, too. Zana felt her lips curl at the thought.
On the other hand, it would be a great project for reeling in Boy, who was also the best argument for keeping everybody else at bay.
"That sounds great," she forced out, trying her best to sound enthusiastic. "I had planned to use this project to build on the progress I've made with Boy so far."
"You've gotten farther than anyone else ever has with that human," Zorya nodded approvingly.
"He's exceptionally shy," Zana said meaningfully. "I don't want to endanger the fragile bond he's been willing to build with me, so we can't have too many other people milling around on site."
"Oh, I completely understand that," Zorya assured her. "But if I may make a recommendation, since I don't think either you or Boy know the first thing about woodworking or the construction of a greenhouse? I'd like to give you Eivas, he worked for a builder before he came to the shelter. He's old, but he knows a great deal about... well, everything you'd need to know to build a house."
"I'm fine with that," Zana conceded. In fact, she was curious about that human — she'd had opportunities to work with very young humans in her former life as a behavioral scientist, but not with old ones. In fact, now she thought about it, she couldn't remember having seen any old humans back in the City, except for Zaius' body servant.
"Great!" Zorya half rose when Zana stood. "I might come by from time to time, to see how it's going."
"As long as you don't bring a crowd of visitors," Zana reminded her with false cheer. "Don't want to chase away the shy human."
Zorya smiled crookedly; she had understood Zana's unspoken sentiment perfectly well. "Of course not, Mila. I'll come alone. Let me know if you need anything — anything except glass, I mean."
"I will. Thank you for your support, Zorya."
"If you want, I can lend you those scrolls about Oper cultivation," Zorya immediately made good on her offer of unconditional support. Or maybe she just meant to convince her of the futility of that particular plan.
Well, she'd have the skeleton of a greenhouse, at least, Zana mused as she walked towards the garden area, clutching the horticultural scrolls to her chest. That would give her some time to think about a solution for her glass problem. Somehow, she'd get those glass panels, and somehow, she'd also get some oper seeds. Or seedlings. Or whatever one needed to grow opers.
If she bested Hamez, she'd best him roundly.
Zorya also made good on her other promise, and only sent a work troupe to the garden to deliver the wood beams for the greenhouse's construction. Zana thought that if she had kept the dozen or so young males, they would've erected the house's scaffold in less than a day, but that was not the point of this project.
The point of her project had vanished during the flurry of activity, and hadn't come back yet. Zana hoped that Boy wasn't drawing any wrong conclusions from watching her talk with Eivas, who Zorya had said would direct and oversee the construction. She didn't want to send the message that her interest had shifted from the mute human to the old human, and chase Boy away for good. But if she wanted to have that greenhouse built, she had no choice but to talk to Eivas, and truth be told, she was fascinated by him.
You didn't see a lot of old humans in the streets of the City; and back then, she had never wondered about that — it simply hadn't been part of her reality that humans would grow old just like apes did. Oh, she knew that they would age; it was only logical. Maybe she had just assumed that they would return to their own villages when they weren't able to work and serve their simian masters anymore. And it wasn't as if she had never seen an old human, either — Zaius' body servant had been old, with a wrinkly face and a bald head.
But Eivas was the first old human she had ever paid any attention to, and while she was listening with one ear to the human's explanation of what had to be done, she couldn't help cataloguing all the ways he was different from the humans she'd known so far.
His hair was completely white, the fur on his head thinning into whispy strands. His eyes had sunk deeply into their sockets, the pupils beginning to cloud with cataract. The skin on his face was loose and crinkled, reminding her of that of an old Orangutan. It was just as thin on his hands, making his veins stand out like blueish cords. His finger joints were swollen, making the fingers look like gnarly branches of an old tree. Zana wondered if the joints on his feet looked the same, and if it made walking painful. Eivas certainly moved slower and more carefully than the humans she knew.
"... get those tools, if that's fine with you, vetya," Eivas' surprisingly deep voice cut through her musings.
"Uh... yes. Yes, that's fine. I'll... go water the plants in the meantime." She hadn't listened to a single word he'd said, Zana realized with a jolt. Not that it mattered, an ape didn't have to listen to a human's chatter, but she felt guilty all the same — after all, Eivas was here to help her build the greenhouse.
The human smiled, not at all fazed by her perfectly normal simian behavior, and hobbled down the path to... get some tools. Yes, she had at least caught that last part.
She pulled up a bucket from the well and began to pour it into her watering cans, one eye on the lookout for Boy. He didn't show up, though, and with a slight pang of disappointment and worry, Zana began her daily round of watering.
It took five trips to the well to refill her cans before Boy finally returned. By then, Zana's arms were aching, and her feet were soaking wet, but those discomforts vanished from her mind when she saw the young human waiting for her with the bucket. He trailed after her as she set out to water the remaining plant beds with new vigour, and didn't bolt even when Eivas returned with a wheelbarrow full of tools, rope, and mysterious boxes.
"Ah, so that's the young lad who's gonna build the greenhouse?" he greeted Zana.
"Well, hopefully," Zana said. "I haven't told him yet, and I have no idea if he's willing to help us."
"I teach woodworking and construction to a group of youngsters down at the workhouses," Eivas assured her. "They can help out if he won't."
"I'd actually prefer it if Boy would help me," Zana said firmly. "He's perfectly able to, he's just... shy."
Eivas's gaze slid to Boy, who had wandered down the path towards the trellises, and now seemed to be fascinated by the big, heart-shaped leaves climbing them. "Mhm," was all he said to that, but his smile was gentle.
Zana decided to ask him about Boy. Eivas had to know about him — they had both lived at the shelter for some time now. "Do you know his actual name? Everyone just calls him 'boy', but it doesn't seem right to me to use that word."
Eivas shook his head and shrugged apologetically. "Nobody knows his name, vetya, and I don't think he could tell you even if he wanted." He gestured at his own throat. "He was injured there. Can't talk."
"Are you sure that he's unable to talk?" Zana didn't want to believe it. "Maybe he just... won't, because he's still terrified from what happened to him." Humans could certainly develop behavioral anomalies after having suffered abuse and trauma; she had seen it in Peet, and later, even in Alan.
"Maybe he doesn't have a name," Eivas suggested. "Some masters don't bother giving their humans names."
This was news to Zana, but by now, she wasn't surprised by any simian depravity towards humans anymore. "But certainly humans give names to their children?" she insisted.
"Maybe he forgot," Eivas said. "If he was taken from his mommy at weaning age, he won't remember it anyway."
"Maybe," Zana muttered, trying to hide her horror at this scenario. Was it possible that even Boy thought of himself only as 'Boy'?
"Well, I suggest we just begin, and hopefully, Boy will join us soon and offer his help," she said, trying to focus on something innocuous. "He also did that when he saw me struggling with that heavy bucket at the well. Where do you think would be the best place for a greenhouse?"
The rest of the morning went by in a rush; Zana was happy to defer to Eivas's considerable knowledge, and agreed to his choice of location, his instructions on which logs needed to go where, and which tools to hand him. Since Eivas was too old to lift heavy weights anymore, and since simian strength topped human strength by far, Zana was the one who did most of the heavy lifting — especially in the beginnig, before Boy drifted onto the scene and inserted himself into the work flow as inconspicuously as he had done with the plant watering.
Zana's participation seemed to bother Eivas a lot. "Forgive me, vetya," he blurted out at some point, "but it just isn't right that you should do all this low work! That's for humans!" He looked miserable as he said this — telling an ape that they were doing anything wrong was also unthinkable for a human.
Zana felt sorry for his plight, but if she started explaining herself, she'd probably throw Eivas' world into even greater disarray: apes simply didn't justify their actions to humans.
"Well, that's for me to decide, don't you think?" she said, smiling so as to not make her words sound too threatening. Eivas nodded, the crinkles in his face still deeper than usual from worry, and proceeded to give as much of the heavy work as he could manage to Boy.
Boy, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy himself, as far as Zana could tell — which wasn't easy, since the young human's face stayed as expressionless as ever. But he seemed more relaxed, more oblivious of his company, and he even followed Eivas' instructions, which was the most intense interaction Zana had ever witnessed from him.
It only took them until early afternoon to complete the frame of the greenhouse, with only the beams for the roof still missing. It was big, about twice the size Zana had envisioned for it; judging by the size of the plant beds around her, she estimated that it could hold at least four beds. She wondered how many opers four beds would yield; she had no idea, but considering how problematic the cultivation of this swamp fruit was, nobody else would have, either.
"This is amazing," she told Eivas. "I wouldn't have thought we'd progress so quickly!"
"Thanks to your superior strength, vetya," Eivas said shyly. "It would've taken longer with human workers."
"Thanks to your knowledge," Zana returned the compliment, and was surprised to see the old man blush. "Everything went smoothly because you know exactly what part needed to go where."
Eivas looked everywhere but at her, and Zana took pity on the embarrassed human. "In any case, I'd say we all deserve a break now. It's too hot to keep working anyway."
They retreated into the shadow of the tree at the garden well, where Zana had stored a jug of lemonade; remembering a trick Alan had once shown her, she had kept it chilled by putting it into the bucket and lowering it into the water at the bottom of the well.
Boy immediately accepted his mug with lemonade, and Zana felt a wave of slightly smug satisfaction at that; this greenhouse project had been a genius idea. Eivas had to be ordered to stop fussing, but after the first sip, his old face had lit up with awed pleasure, and he didn't have to be pushed to get a second helping.
It was all very enjoyable, sitting in the shade of the tree with her two humans, sipping lemonade and nibbling at candied nuts. She hadn't felt this content and at peace for a long time.
Almost like old times, she thought, and tossed an apple to Boy, who caught it with one hand. Almost. But it still wasn't the same.
It was Zana, naturally, to whom it fell to decide when to resume working. Truth be told, she'd have been happy to just stay under that tree and eat candies, but she could tell that Eivas was getting restless, and Boy would wander off if he got bored, and frankly, she wanted to see what the greenhouse would look like when it was completed. If they could finish today, or at least the following day, she could ask Zorya about those fabric panels, and write to Ango to send her some oper seeds, and maybe his order owned some obscure scroll or two on how to cultivate them in more adverse climates.
Zana vetoed Eivas when he started to climb up onto the ceiling joists. He was frail and half-blind, and simply too old to monkey around in the rafters. "If you break your neck, who's going to tell us where to put the next beam?" she asked rhethorically. Eivas sighed, but obeyed without arguing.
She and Boy started out by constructing a triangle at each end of the house, and then added additional beams in between. The timber had come already pre-cut at an angle, and only needed to be fitted together and secured with long, sturdy nails. Zana, being the strongest of the three was doing most of the lifting, but Eivas tried to help as much as he could, tying the rope around the beam that she then pulled up to where Boy was waiting to carry it with her to its place.
It was fascinating to see how quickly the roof grew from one end of the frame to the other. Zana marveled at Eivas's skill and economy; he directed her and Boy with few words and gestures, and there wasn't a single superfluous move or work step involved. She bent down to grab her end of the next wood beam, wondering if this — being part of a work chain, breaking your back under the scorching sun — was how it felt to be a human.
If she had pointed out the sophistication and skillfulness to her fellow apes as proof that these creatures weren't animals, but persons, just like apes were, everyone would've cited the intricate nests of the blue weaver birds, or the marvellous underwater cities of the common beaver. People didn't want to see what was before their eyes; it had only taken an enraged Gorilla, and a desperate flight into the mountains, to make her finally understand that.
A shout from behind her, and a heavy thud tore her out of her ruminations. Zana whirled around—
... and gasped with horror: Boy was lying spread-eagled in the grass below her, unmoving.
She jumped down to him, landing on all fours to soften the impact. Boy had recovered from his shock; he was rolling his head side to side, lips peeled back in a silent scream as he clutched his left arm; tears streamed from the corners of his eyes and down his temples. He didn't sit up.
He really couldn't talk, Zana realized; no sound escaped from the human's mouth, only raspy gasps of pain.
Eivas kneeled beside him, putting a gentle hand on the boy's neck. "He lost his balance, and fell on his shoulder when he hit the ground," he explained. "Maybe he broke a bone."
"Oh, no!" Zana felt a wave of guilt washing over her as she leaned closer. If she hadn't sent Boy up there... if she hadn't latched onto that silly idea of building a greenhouse in the first place...
If my stupid pride hadn't insisted on beating Hamez in a challenge he probably isn't even aware exists... I'm such a stupid, irresponsible idiot...
"Oh, Boy, I'm so sorry!" She reached out to touch him, the way Eivas had, but he jerked back and tried to get away from her, and Zana clenched her fists and pressed them to her thighs.
I'm not going to cry. This isn't about me and my stupid feelings.
Oh, he's never going to trust me now! All those little steps of progress we made, all gone, and he'll avoid me like the plague from now on...
"He needs a doctor," she said, fighting back tears herself. "Stay with him, Eivas, make sure he doesn't run away in fright. I'll tell Zorya to send someone for my husband." She didn't wait for his reaction; she could hardly manage not to break into a run.
Galen arrived a short time later — thankfully without Hamez in tow — confirmed that Boy had, indeed, broken his collarbone, and advised on carrying his arm in a sling to avoid movement until it had healed. They didn't manage to tie Boy's upper arm to his chest to stabilize the arm even more, as the human was too panicked from Galen's examination, although Galen had been exceedingly quick and gentle, but Boy seemed to understand that he needed to keep the arm in the sling, at least: Eivas told him over and over again, and managed to calm him down a little.
Galen handed a bottle to Eivas. "He seems to trust you, at least; this is medicine against the pain. Give him a spoonful twice a day, one in the morning and one in the evening." He hesitated, giving Eivas a critical once-over with squinted eyes. "You can take a spoonful, too, if your joints are giving you too much trouble. Just let me know when you need a new bottle, and don't take more than what I just told you! Too much can be dangerous for your heart."
Eivas beamed with gratitude and vowed to make sure that Boy followed the doctor's instructions.
Galen turned to Zana and regarded her for a moment.
"How about we go home?" he said gently. "It's already getting too dark to see anything."
"We won't be working on this thing anyway until Boy has recovered," Zana agreed dejectedly. Galen laid a hand on her back and steered her down the garden path to the main gate. He didn't say anything, but Zana couldn't feel any condemnation for her foolishness emanating from him.
She didn't understand why he didn't scold her for being so irresponsible towards the one human in her care. She didn't deserve his generosity. Chubla didn't deserve it, either.
"That was kind of you, to care about old Eivas's joints," Zana murmured as they were slowly walking back to town. Galen was leading Tala; he hadn't cared to hitch up the wagon.
"Well, I gave him permission to use the painkiller so he wouldn't have to swipe it from Boy," Galen said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And since he now knows he can come to me for more, he'll hopefully trust me with the dosage, too."
"Oh." She hadn't even thought of the possibility that Eivas could steal from Boy. "You're getting quite street-smart, dear husband."
"Traveling with Peet will do that to you." Now the smile reached his lips, too.
Oh, do you miss them, too? But she didn't ask the question aloud. And now she couldn't help but wonder if she cared about Boy for his own sake, or because she wanted someone to fill in for Peet and Alan.
No, it wasn't like that, she firmly told herself. She really had come to care for Boy in his own right. And she hoped that he wouldn't think now that she had hurt him on purpose — like that unknown other ape had hurt him, by taking his voice, his speech, trying to forcibly mold him into the mute, dumb animal that apes insisted humans were.
I want to save this one, but how many are suffering right now that I don't know of? And how can I ever hope to make a difference? This is so big. This is too big for me.
Impulsively, she reached out and took Galen's hand; Galen, not startled or confused at all, gently squeezed it. And suddenly, Zana didn't feel as alone anymore; the dull ache around her heart lifted a bit, and she drew a deep breath — the first deep breath ever since she had waved goodbye to her humans.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, her hand warm and secure in Galen's.
Loud voices woke Zana from an uneasy sleep filled with dreams of endless jungle gardens where she fruitlessly searched for Boy, who was crying somewhere in the green labyrinth, always out of sight...
No, the wailing came from downstairs. Zana sat up in the darkness, heart still pounding from her despair and frantic searching in the dream, and listened to the sounds below.
A woman's voice, loud and panicked. Male voices — Galen's voice, and Hamez' — and something heavy scraping and bumping through the corridor. Doors banging... that must've been the door to the practice. Someone was bringing their sick animal in the middle of the night. By the sounds of what was being moved along the corridor, it must've been a cow or something.
Hasty steps were pounding upstairs, towards her room. Galen stood in the brightly-lit doorframe all of a sudden. "Oh, good, you're awake. Will you do me a huge favor and get Laisa from the human quarter real quick?"
Not a cow. A human. Zana scrambled out of bed. That human must be in grave danger, if their owner had bothered to break in the practice's front door in the middle of the night... "I don't know if they let anyone into the quarter at this time..."
"Doctor's orders," Galen said curtly; he was already halfway out of the door again. "And tell her to bring all her herbs and tools for delivering a baby. Tell her... tell her to bring whatever she uses for a difficult delivery, a premature delivery..."
And with that, he sprinted down the stairs again. Zana blindly grabbed her robe in the darkness and hurried after him, struggling with the sleeves.
She had never roamed the streets of Chubla at night before. It was a bit spooky, despite the streets being well-lit even at this time of night, since nobody else but her was outside, and she tried to tread lightly, not to make any noise... not to raise attention of whoever lurked in the shadows between the lamps.
The human quarter wasn't lit at all. Zana drew back after casting a glance into the murky darkness. "I need the healer," she said to the guard lounging at the gate. "Urgently, but how am I supposed to find her in this utter blackness? Do you know the way?"
"I don't go in there," the guard muttered. He sounded as if he'd just woken up from sleep, which he probably had. "Got no reason to. Sorry, vetya."
She was on her own. Zana drew a deep breath, reminded herself that time was of the essence, and stepped inside. She'd just have to wake the unlucky humans who lived in the hut closest to the gate, and force them to be her guide. It wasn't as if she hadn't done something like this before.
The human stumbling to the door she had pounded against was old, but spry, and reminded her of Eivas a bit. He didn't seem to find anything amiss with an ape rousing him at midnight to lead him to the healer; maybe he'd had to do it before.
Laisa didn't seem to be surprised, either, but that was probably par for the course for any healer. Galen had been called to urgent cases at those times, too — one reason they were sleeping in separate bedrooms now.
"A premature birth?" she just said. "Oh my." Then she grabbed a bag and indicated to Zana that she was ready to go.
Zana couldn't decide if she was relieved to see that there was a ready-made bag for such cases, which seemed to indicate that difficult births weren't too rare an occurrence, and that Laisa was well-prepared for whoever was waiting in Galen's practice — or to be disturbed that these cases were frequent enough to necessitate a ready-made bag for them. Mostly, though, she was relieved that she didn't have to make the way back through the nightly town alone.
The unreal atmosphere dissolved as soon as they entered the brightly-lit practice. Hamez' was already waiting for them in the open door, and ushered Laisa into the examination room at once. Zana stood there, staring at the closed door for a moment, feeling completely superfluous. Then she went into the waiting room, where a woman was sobbing.
It was an Orangutan she didn't know. Granted, she didn't know any Orangutans besides Zorya here. Zana slowly moved closer, careful not to startle the distraught woman. "Would you like a cup of tea? It helps to calm the nerves somewhat."
The woman's head jerked up; she stared at Zana, eyes red and swollen from crying, before she nodded. "Yes, please."
Before Zana could move to prepare some tea, the Orangutan had grabbed her wrist, though. "Do you know how my girl is doing? Is she...," her lips quivered, "... is she even still alive?"
Zana gently extricated her hand from the woman's iron grip. "I suppose so," she said. "They're still in there, after all. I'll go get the tea."
Sleepiness returned with full force while she was waiting for the water to boil. She propped herself against the wall beside the oven, enjoying the warmth emanating from it, and stared at the kettle, too tired to think of anything. She had no idea how Galen managed to be not just up at these unholy times, but able to do anything, let alone do medicine. And he did it regularly, and was then up for his rounds and doctor's hours during the day...
The door to the kitchen slammed open, startling her from her doze. Galen strode in, the sleeves of his robe pushed back to the elbows. "Oh, good, you already heated up the water." He grabbed the gently humming kettle and made for the door again.
"Yes, I was making... Galen, wait!" Zana hurried after him. "How's it going?" she whispered when she had caught up with him. "Who is it, anyway?"
Galen hovered on the doorstep, one hand already on the handle. "That foolish woman Zaylissa," he hissed. "The one who fancies herself to be a breeder, remember? She stopped giving my remedies to her human, and filled her up with the wonder elixir instead."
He spat the last words like a curse. Zana had only once seen him that livid, when he had found out that she had kept her pregnancy secret from him.
"But can you save the human?" she asked timidly.
Galen sighed, a deep, exhausted sigh that promised nothing. "Hopefully," he muttered, and vanished into the practice.
Zana returned to the kitchen to find another pot to heat up her tea water.
When she returned with two mugs of steaming-hot tea and two sugared nut cones — when in shock, you needed something sweet, in her opinion — Zaylissa was still weeping into her veil, though silently now. The Orangutan gratefully accepted the tea, but didn't touch the nuts. Zana picked one of the cones and began nibbling at it.
"She's had problems with that pregnancy ever since she conceived," Zaylissa said all of a sudden. "Didn't want to eat, throwing up the little that I forced her to eat, complaining about nausea and this pain and that... and getting thinner all the time." She sighed and blew her nose. "I don't know what I've been doing wrong! I read all the scrolls on the subject."
Zana remembered Galen's bitter rants about Zaylissa and her breeding human. It had been one of the few dinner conversations she had managed to keep an interest in, because it had reminded her of Alan... of the whole debacle with poor Alan...
"She seems a bit young for bearing... cubs," she said finally. "Maybe that's the reason...?"
"She's fourteen." Zaylissa sniffed indignantly. "I waited two years longer than I'd have to." She blew her nose again.
"Maybe I chose the wrong sire," she added. "He's very big, maybe the cub is too big for her, too. But he had such an excellent pedigree..."
Zana reached for the second sugared cone. Alan was rather tall... but she and Galen had calculated the dates over and over again. It couldn't have been him.
"Well, my husband was looking after your human, wasn't he?" she poked some more. She wasn't supposed to know about their recent fallout over the elixir, but maybe she could get Zaylissa to admit to it.
"Yes, until recently," Zaylissa nodded, "but then I was recommended this new treatment, and of course I hoped that it would be more successful than what the doctor had been trying... she never got really better anyway, she just dragged herself from day to day... I wanted to help her!" She stared at Zana as if challenging her to say anything about the foolishness of her actions.
This woman... Zana fully understood Galen's resentment now. How he'd been able to see her every other day without succumbing to the temptation to tell her to her face what they thought about apes breeding humans...
She took a big bite from the cone to fill her mouth and keep it from saying something she'd regret later. "Well," she mumbled, "I'm sure he'll do whatever he can to save her now."
"And the cub!" Zaylissa exclaimed. "I can't lose the cub, I paid that breeder so much money!"
Zana stuffed the rest of the cone into her mouth, a bite so big that she had trouble swallowing it.
A movement under the door caught her attention. Galen leaned against the doorframe, looking tired and furious. "Your cub is alive," he said. So he had caught that last part of the conversation. "Incan survived, too, but she's very weak. You'll need a wet nurse for the bab— the cub."
"Oh, doctor Kova!" Zaylissa jumped up from her seat and was clinging to Galen before either he or Zana could react. "I am so grateful to you! I regret that I ever doubted your medical prowess, doctor, will you forgive me? And of course you'll be the only doctor who's allowed to take care of my little Incan and her cub! Nobody else!"
Galen leaned back in her embrace to glare at her. "No more wonder elixir!"
"No more elixir!" Zaylissa vowed, still clinging to his neck. "It didn't do any good, not like your medicine, dear doctor!"
Dear Doctor! Zana wished she had brought more nut cones. She hid her face in her almost-empty tea cup instead.
Galen wasn't done yet. "Not only didn't it do any good, I dare say it harmed your human, and almost caused her to miscarry! That late in her pregnancy, it could've killed her, too!"
Zaylissa finally let go of him. She stepped back, hands clutched at her heart. "Killed her? But they guaranteed that it was medicine! It was blessed, even, by the venerable monk—"
"They. Are. Crooks!" Galen's voice was low and intense. How he didn't shout at this foolish Orangutan was beyond Zana. She wouldn't have been so self-possessed! "Have they ever provided solid proof for any of their wild stories?"
He rubbed his brow, exhaustion now showing more acute in his face. "A secret order of monks in the Forbidden Zone," he scoffed. "You'd think the Defender of the Faith, the Venerable Council Eldest Zaius, would've taken care of that if it truly existed!"
Zaylissa looked dumbstruck. "You mean... the Venerable Zolon isn't a monk?"
"He's an Orangutan with a very unsual coloring," Galen said. "That's all I, or anyone, can know for a fact about him."
"But... but that means he lied to me!" Zaylissa clutched her hands above her heart once more. "He lied! To me!" She began to pace. "Orangutans never lie to each other!"
That was an interesting qualifier, Zana thought, but the nut cone was still sticking in her throat, refusing to slide further down, so all she could do was to watch the drama unfolding. Zaylissa was working herself into the righteous rage of a woman who'd just realized she'd been had — and worse, had almost lost her most valuable possession to that scam.
"Why is nobody stopping this criminal?" she demanded. "Why isn't Chief Voltis throwing them into jail? Somebody has to do something! Doctor!" She threw himself at Galen again; to Zana's — and quite obviously, Galen's — relief, she confined herself to only clutching his hands this time. "Can't you stop them?"
Galen raised his brows and cast a surprised glance at Zana, who simply shrugged. Zaylissa seemed to be prone to theatralical declamations, but maybe she could spread the word about the wonder elixir's uselessness, and thus help Galen to raise awareness among the good citizens of Chubla. Judging from the behavior of the mob down at the circus the other day, though, it was more than doubtful.
"I'm trying to stop them, believe me," Galen told the Orangutan. "Unfortunately, nobody wants to believe me when I tell them to be wary of the outrageous promises of some vagrant circus performers..."
His gentle sarcasm was completely lost on Zaylissa. "They need to be thrown out of town!" the matron declared. "The sooner the better! Doctor, if I can help you in any way, any way at all, let me know. I have money, I have connections, and I have no compunctions about doing whatever's necessary to take care of this problem!"
"That sounds ominous," Zana remarked from her seat, her voice a bit creaky from the battle with the nut cone. Zaylissa whirled around to face her.
"They almost killed my human!" she hissed. "And her first cub! I will not let them get away with that!" She looked at Galen. "I want to see her now, please. If it's possible." Her tone made it clear that it better had be possible.
Galen took the hint. "It's not advisable," he said. "She needs rest. But after all this excitement, I'll let you take a look at her. No talking, though!"
"Whatever you say, doctor. You're my advisor now in all things." Zaylissa made a beeline for the examination room. "All things human husbandry, I mean. Oh, I can't wait to see the cub!"
Galen glanced at Zana. "Go to bed, love," he said. "Thank you for your help. If you hadn't brought Laisa here, I don't think we could've saved the baby, or the mother."
With an exhausted sigh, he followed Zaylissa into the examination room.
Zana stared at the closed door, debating with herself whether to get another mug of tea to soothe her throat, sneak after Galen to have a peek at the newborn, too, or to follow his advice and fall into bed again. She was chilly, and her eyes were drooping shut. The baby would still be there in the morning.
Tea and bed it was. She heaved herself up from the chair and made her way back to Prila's kitchen. It would be a short night and a long day ahead; and she couldn't sleep in, because she had to look after Boy, and see how he was doing with his injured shoulder...
So many harmed and injured humans everywhere, all of a sudden. Had it always been that way?