Calling On Fire (Book 1) (33 page)

“I forgot to tell you. Nassata came by yesterday,” Esset said after that small task had been performed.

“How long was I out for?” Toman asked, surprised and sounding marginally better for the drink.

“Only one night, at that point,” Esset replied. “I couldn’t believe it either. She brought us some of the things I’d left behind in the hurry. Including your hat.” The summoner grinned and lifted the hat from where it was sitting just out of Toman’s sight; Toman had to smile at that.

“She said she’d be coming by again sometime today,” the skinnier brother added.

“Tell her thank you,” Toman replied, still smiling. That hat meant a lot to him—more than Nassata knew.

“I will. Who knows, maybe you’ll be awake and she can come in and see you,” Esset suggested cheerfully. “In the meantime, breakfast? It’ll be more soup for you, but…”

“Soup works just fine. To be honest, I’m not sure I could keep anything else down,” Toman confessed.

Before long, they had some soup for Toman, and Esset explained everything that had happened since their departure from Salithsa, including the news from Nassasta’s visit. Toman was barely awake by the time Esset finished and Lady Ateala arrived to give him his morning injection.

“Toman, this is Lady Ateala,” Esset introduced them when she walked in the room.

“Mmm,” was all Toman managed, as he was quickly losing a battle with unconsciousness.

“She’s going to give you some of the anti-venom. You’re not going to feel so great right away, but it will get better later,” Esset explained. This time Toman just gave the slightest of nods to indicate that he’d heard.

Toman was still marginally conscious when Lady Ateala injected the anti-venom in his arm; he froze, then started to sweat and moan as unconsciousness overtook him. Unconsciousness was no blessing, however—there was no reprieve from the pain; that much was obvious in Toman’s unconscious reactions, twisting a bit in the bed as if trying to escape the pain within him. Esset hated seeing Toman suffer, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Instead he took the seat next to his brother’s bed and took his hand, helping him through it in the only way he could—just by being there. Lady Ateala lingered awhile, watching her patient—presumably to make sure nothing went wrong—before leaving them alone in the room.

An hour later, Toman had sunk into a less pained but still restless sleep, and Nassata came to call again. This time Esset knew what to expect when the maid briefly delivered her news and then vanished. He went to the door and invited her in, having asked Lady Ateala the day before if it was okay. Even though Toman wasn’t awake to see her, he brought her to the room so they could speak there.

“How is he doing?” Nassata asked, her vibrant teal eyes coming to rest on the young man in the bed.

“He’s getting better, slowly. He was awake for a little while yesterday and for a bit longer this morning. He said to say thank you, by the way, for bringing our things. Especially his hat,” Esset said, a smile tweaking his lips.

Nassata smiled. “I am glad I thought to pick it up. He always had that hat on, even underground, so it seemed like so small a keepsake at the time.”

“The previous animator took Toman in after Toman’s family was massacred by Moloch,” Esset explained. “The hat’s from him. Toman’s worn that hat every day since.” That it had been left behind during their flight from Salithsa was a mark of how dire things had been.

“I am sorry none of us believed you—especially so for Tseka’s misguided attempt at mercy. I hope you can forgive us,” Nassata said, her hand reaching out to rest on Esset’s arm. Having spent so long in the company of the Nadra, Esset no longer thought anything of the gesture.

“You couldn’t have known—we have nothing to blame you for,” he said with a small shake of his head. “And nothing to forgive you for. You were doing what you believed was right, as was Tseka. None of us had any reason to believe that things wouldn’t have gone just as you thought they would.”

“But you had faith, and you kept fighting. We will learn from that, I promise,” Nassata vowed. “We are a people of peace, yet we were the ones pushing for the shorter, more violent end. We are of peace, and yet we did not fight for life as we should have. In your actions, you showed us we were wrong, and we owe you for that as well.”

Esset wasn’t sure how to take that. “I’m just glad he’s going to be okay. When he’s well enough again, we’ll come back and finish the job. Actually, I was thinking that as soon as he’s well enough to leave here, that we’d come. He won’t be in fighting shape yet, but I will be, and with his army moving already, we can probably finish the Reshkin without him. He won’t like it, and he’ll be right when he argues that it’ll be finished faster with him, but we can finish it just the same without him.” Esset was feeling rather protective of his brother at the moment, and understandably so.

“That sounds fair enough,” Nassata agreed. “How long, do you think, before that might be?” She was not being impatient, but the same couldn’t necessarily be said for the council back home, and she had reports to make.

“The lady, Ateala, said it will likely be a week before he’s conscious for normal hours, at the very least. She estimates two weeks for a majority recovery, three for complete. Although she was sure to stress that she was estimating only. Healing is complicated, with lots of variables that can go better or worse,” Esset explained. Nassata nodded.

“Well, I will pass the report along,” she said. “One of my people will take the message back to the city. In the meantime, I intend to stay here with two of my warriors. There will likely be little for us to do, but I convinced the council that you were too important as assets to risk.” She grinned a little wolfishly, having gotten what she wanted. Her smile faded after a moment.

“Kessa was devastated to hear what happened,” Nassata added, her eyes downcast. “She wanted to come, but I forbade it. She would not do well among humans, I think. Not without a little guidance, at least. We could not afford to be worrying about her here, not now. I know she will be glad to hear that Toman is still alive. I believe she has gotten quite attached to him.”

“Yeah, they spent a lot of time together, didn’t they?” Esset remarked with a smile. “But I hope Kessa realizes that we will leave when the job with the Reshkin is done. We may come back to visit someday, but we can make no promises. There…are things we need to do.”

Nassata looked at the summoner curiously, but he looked like one who had been battered too often, too unfairly, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Instead, she simply accepted his words.

“Well, we will start with Toman’s wellbeing, but when we return, I will ensure that Kessa understands how things lie. I am sure she knows, on some level, the way things are, but I would not see her hurt if I can help it,” Nassata agreed. Esset nodded his agreement—there was too much pain in the world already to add more unnecessarily.

“Well,” Nassata continued after a brief pause. “I am going to go now. There is no need to make the people of this village any more nervous. But Esset—” She stopped until he looked up at her.

“Just promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, too, while your brother heals. You look terrible.”

Esset had to smile at that. “Yeah, I do tend to forget about myself a bit, don’t I? Well I promise. I’ll take care of myself too,” Esset replied.

Nassata smiled back at him before letting herself out.

Esset passed a few boring days while Toman recovered, but then Lady Ateala’s other patient—a woodcutter who’d nearly lost a leg in an accident—got well enough to return home, and Lady Ateala had more free time. Esset and the lady had more time for discussions on science, philosophy, ethics, and religion. Once Toman was strong enough to stay conscious for more than an hour at a time, Lady Ateala recruited Esset for errands in the village.

Armed with a quickly-sketched map of the village, a basket, and a list, Esset headed for the market.

“Good morning!” he greeted the baker cheerfully.

“Good morn’n,” the baker replied more conservatively.

“Lady Ateala has requested that I pick up a loaf of bread and a dozen biscuits,” Esset said, placing his basket on the counter. The baker looked surprised.

“Oh aye, I’ve got them ready for her. That makes you one of the lads came in here on that fire bird then, yes?” the baker asked as he fetched the requested items.

Esset nodded.

“My brother was bit and poisoned. The lady saved his life,” Esset explained. The baker nodded.

“We’re blessed to have her here,” the baker agreed. “I don’t know what we’d do without her. We were all worried for her when you two came in. Thought the fire bird was a demon!”

Esset gave a polite laugh.

“Never fear, no demons here,” he reassured the baker, who nodded.

“So our lady said,” he said. “You run along now, and tell the lady I’m making those lemon pastries she likes tomorrow.”

“Of course. What do I owe you?” Esset asked.

“Owe?” the baker asked. “Why, nothing! We don’t charge our lady nothing. She helps us, and we help her how we can. We can little afford to pay her, in a village this small, but this we can do.”

Since Lady Ateala hadn’t given him any money for the trip, Esset had assumed this was a way he was paying her back. But he found this symbiotic relationship heartwarming.

“Well, thank you. Have a good day,” Esset bade the baker, who echoed the sentiment. Once Esset left the shop, the baker’s expression went slightly blank.

“We’re so fortunate to have Lady Ateala,” he said to no one in particular. Then he shook himself and headed to check on the ovens in the back.

Esset stopped at a small farm at the edge of town next. He tapped on the door, but there was no answer, so he poked his head around the side of the house.

“Hello?” he called.

“Hello?” a female voice echoed from the barn. “Just a moment!” A minute later a farmwife in an apron emerged from the barn.

“Hello, stranger, what can I do for you?” she called when she saw him.

“I’m here to fetch some things for Lady Ateala,” he called back. She stopped and smiled, then headed back into the barn. Esset was just debating whether to follow when she re-emerged. She had a glass jar of fresh milk cradled in one arm, one of the items from Esset’s list, and a big smile on her face.

“We were all wondering about you two. I didn’t see it, but I heard you made quite the grand entrance. Preacher William tried to stir everyone up with talk of Darkfires and demons, but Lady Ateala wouldn’t stand for that nonsense. She has a way of talking people around, our dear lady does. Besides, you’re nothing to worry about. Look at you, all skin and bones. You make sure to drink some of that milk—good milk, strong back, my ma always said! Now our good lady usually wants a couple other things too. I’ve got some fresh peas here I’ll send with you if you’ll pass me your basket. Was there anything else? Sometimes Lady Ateala wants some eggs or some other vegetables.” She finally paused long enough for him to say something.

“Eggs, please,” Esset said. He didn’t have a chance to get a word more in edgewise as she took his basket and his arm and began dragging him over to the chicken coop, chattering about why her eggs were the best in the village, all thanks to the feed she gave them. Esset nodded occasionally, but she didn’t appear to need encouragement to keep talking. Once he had the peas and the eggs as well as the milk, he slowly began backing towards the front of the house. Only once he reached the road did she stop.

“You take care, y’hear? And take care of our Lady Ateala, too. Bye now, dear!” She waved as he smiled and fled down the road.

The farmwife watched him go, and then her stare went blank.

“We’re so fortunate to have Lady Ateala,” she said to herself. Then she turned and went back to the barn.

The jar of milk was getting heavy in Esset’s arms, but he had one more stop to make—a herbal tea to drop off to an elderly lady on the way back to Lady Ateala’s. When he came up on the small farmhouse, he found the granny asleep in the rocking chair on the porch. Esset grinned at the irony—the tea he was bringing was supposed to aid sleep. He stopped at the bottom step and tapped on the railing.

“Good morning,” he called softly, hoping he wouldn’t startle her.

“Hm? Who’s there?” The granny lifted her chin slowly from her chest and squinted in his general direction. Her eyes were filmed milky white.

“Jonathan Esset. I’m here to give you something from Lady Ateala,” Esset said, stepping onto the first step.

“Ah, yes, that’s wonderful…” The granny’s chin sank back against her chest as her voice trailed off, and Esset hesitated on the bottom step.

“Granny?” he ventured.

“Hm? Who’s there?” The granny repeated, her chin lifting as slowly as it had sunk.

“I have something from Lady Ateala.” Esset wasted no time this time. He ascended the steps and pressed the packet of tea into her hands.

“Ah, bless you, bless our lady,” the granny mumbled.

“Bless you,” Esset replied, but the granny’s chin was sinking to her chest once more, so he left quietly. His feet crunched against a dry twig on the walkway as he left, and she looked up one last time, her eyes blank.