EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (37 page)

But my fear only grew stronger that he might catch the Death Plague from me.

The stranger pressed something leathery and scaled against my arms, and I flinched.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘I thought you wanted help.’

I didn’t know what to say, and afraid I might upset him, I said nothing.

‘It’s just my sheath.’ He continued, ‘You know… what I keep my sword in.’

I thought about Mother lying in bed and remembered the desperation in her voice. She needed me. I swallowed hard and reached out to the man. He pushed the scaly texture against the palm of my right hand. I passed it through my fingertips and, deciding it wouldn’t hurt me, grasped it.

‘You’re mad, you are,’ someone said. ‘She’s got a blinding disease. You’ll catch it.’

‘Shut up, you fool. I can’t catch her blindness.’ The strange man shook the sheath. ‘What’s your name?’

What if he wanted to hurt me? Could I trust him? What if he was the kind of person my parents had warned me about? Maybe it was Mother’s way of finally getting rid of me. Starving me in the house meant she would have to dispose of my body. Outside, I was no longer her problem.

‘Varago,’ I said, holding onto the casing as I hobbled forwards.

‘All right, all right. We’re going to Varago. You’re an odd one, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

He snorted. ‘You’re not supposed to say yes to that.’

I was confused. My illness made me odd, and I wondered if this man would fall sick because of me. I stepped on something sharp and cried out. I limped forward, and my foot felt wet. I reached down to wipe at it, feeling something lodged in the arch of my foot.

The stranger cursed. ‘Don’t touch your foot. It’s bleeding. God, it’s bleeding badly. Can you walk?’

I shook my head and bit my lip. He was the only person helping me, and I didn’t want him to get angry and leave me alone on the street.

‘Here.’

I felt his arms come around me, and a piercing scream escaped from my throat. ‘Don’t touch me. Let me go.’ I wriggled like a worm on a hot coal as I tried to escape his arms. He wasn’t allowed to touch me. No one except Mother, Father, and Uncle Garrad could touch me. He’d die if he got my sickness, and he didn’t deserve that; he was helping me. My elbow connected with something firm, and he released me. I hit the pavers, hard.

‘Find your own way then,’ he said with a huff.

I shook as he walked away. The voices of the villagers continued.

‘Poor girl.’

‘Bet she’s a dung shoveler’s kid, eh?’

‘Nope. Bet she’s a child whore.’

‘Strange girl. Pretty though.’

‘Bet she’s got that disease. You know, the ones whores have that give you sores and rashes.’

I blocked out the voices and listened to the courtyard around me. The hooves of animals slid on wonky stone paving, and the various cattle, goats, and sheep were yelled and cursed at by their owners. Then, a familiar sound came to me, something that announced the end of daylight.

Traders yelled for last customers, as they banged and clanged their various wares together, preparing for closing time. Goosebumps erupted on my skin as the cold night air descended on me. I pushed at the ground with my hands and shuffled into a standing position. Driven by the cold air and coming darkness, I pressed onwards, but the pain in my foot overwhelmed all other senses. Collapsing to the ground again, I shouted, ‘Varago! Varago! Varago, Varago…’ until my lungs ached and my throat dried. My tears were a steady stream that puddled in the corners of my mouth. The salty taste made my stomach grumble. I was so hungry.

‘Little girl, what sort of business is this, screaming my name like some wailing bird?’

‘Are you Varago?’

‘Yes, of course. How do you know me? Have we met?’

‘My mama, she’s sick.’

‘Well, I‘m a busy man. What’s the matter with you? I could hear you from across the square.’

‘Please. My mama, she can’t get out of bed.’

‘Young lady. Many people have illnesses. I can’t just be flitting here and there on everyone’s whim. I will come see her tomorrow.’

‘No. You must come now. Capacia. Capacia is her name.’

The man became silent.

‘Please. Capacia of Mystoria,’ I said. ‘She cannot walk. Please help my mama.’

He whispered something under his breath that sounded like, ‘It can’t be.’

I reached out to him, and two wrinkled hands curled around mine.

I yanked my hands away. ‘No. Don’t touch me. I’m sick. You’ll get my sickness.’

He let go of my hands. ‘Adenine?’ he whispered, sounding amazed.

He knows me!
But I had never met him. I wiped at my face. Was I dirty? Was I ugly to him?

He kneeled beside me. His knees cracked.

‘I’m a doctor, Adenine. I know your illness, and I can’t catch it. You can touch me all you want, and I’ll be as healthy as a horse.’

He gently cupped my chin and twisted my head from side to side. He touched the blindfold that covered my horrible eyes. I was ashamed of them, and when he went to pull off the sash, I twisted my head and pushed at his shoulders.

‘All right, all right, I’ll leave it be.’

‘Mama,’ I whispered helplessly.

‘Yes. Capacia.’ He stood abruptly, his knees creaking again. ‘I have to get my bag. Wait here.’

Footsteps moved across the square. The voices from the courtyard had died down, and the crickets began to chirp so I knew the day had turned to night.

Varago returned. ‘Can you walk, Adenine?’

‘Uh huh, I think so.’

He took my hand in his. Every moment felt like torture. I imagined the disease spreading from my body to his, the little demons infecting his blood, his bones, his mind. But another part of me liked the feel of his hand on mine. I was happy someone could help Mother. We crossed the courtyard, but took a slightly different way back to the house. I tried to remember my steps, but my foot hurt so much it was difficult to focus.

‘How are you, Adenine?’ Varago asked.

I didn’t know what to say. It had been some time since someone other than Mother asked me that question. All I could come up with was the ache in my belly. ‘Hungry.’

Varago continued guiding me home. Knowing I had done what Mother asked, that I was going back to my bedroom, was a reassuring softness in my mind. It distracted me from my injured foot and hunger. Varago would help Mother. She would make me food, and then I could go back to my bedroom, back to the place that was safe and warm.

Eventually, we arrived.

‘Hello?’ Varago yelled into the depths of my house.

‘She’s in the bed,’ I said.

Varago helped me up the stairs to the living room. ‘Capacia?’ he yelled. ‘Capacia!’

We crossed the living room and entered Mother’s bedroom. Varago put my hand on the doorframe and left me there. His bag made a heavy thud as it hit the ground, and his knees creaked as he knelt beside the bed.

‘We need light. And heat,’ he said. ‘I’m going to find flint and steel to light the hearth.’

The smell of smoke came strong, and after a while, I heard the crackle of flames.

Varago returned, rustled through his bag, and then came to me. ‘This will hurt a bit.’ He lifted my foot gently with warm hands and wrapped it in material. ‘A temporary fix.’ He went back to Mother. ‘Capacia. Wake up.’

Mother did not answer. Varago rustled around in his bag.

I wished I could see what he was doing. ‘Is Mama all right?’

‘Adenine, where do you keep fresh bed linens?’

‘I-I don’t know. I don’t remember.’

I was useless. So much time spent in my bedroom had made me stupid. Outside of my room, I was nothing, a burden so pointless in my existence that my own parents had hidden me away from civilised life.

Varago walked past me. He soon returned, and after a moment, I heard him stripping back sheets and linen. He groaned as he struggled with something heavy. ‘Here, child. Go around to the other side of the bed.’

I felt my way around, and when the edge of linen brushed my fingers, I grasped the soft material.

‘Tuck it in,’ he instructed.

I found where he meant and shoved the ends into the gap.

‘Good, that should make things smell a bit better,’ he said. ‘Now, come over to me.’

I was so clumsy as I made my way back around that I accidentally bumped my wounded foot. It felt wet again. ‘Ohhh,’ I moaned, crouching down to hold it.

‘Tsk tsk, silly girl. Let’s get that fixed first then, eh?

‘It hurts,’ I wailed, but then stopped. I was being selfish. Helping Mother was more important than my little scratch.

Varago placed a small cup of something into my hands. ‘Drink this.’

I sipped and spluttered. It tasted awful.

‘It’s for the pain. Now sit down.’

Using the bed for support, I slid to the floor, stretching my legs out to the front. ‘Can you help Mama?’

‘Your mother sleeps. We will wake her. Your foot’s a right mess. There’s a piece of something in deep. I have to get it out, or the wound will fester.’

Anticipating the pain to come, I shot my right arm up to the bed and searched for Mother. I found her cold hand and intertwined my fingers with hers.

‘What’s your favourite animal, Adenine?’ Varago asked.

Before I could answer, he yanked out whatever had been in my foot. I gasped, and my shock turned to agony as a wave of pain spread from my toes and up my leg.

‘Good girl,’ he said.

But I didn’t feel good, and I hadn’t liked how he’d hurt me. He was supposed to make me feel better. That was what doctors did. My uncle had promised me he wouldn’t hurt me, and he had. Adults always lied.

‘Just one little bit of discomfort,’ he warned.

‘No more,’ I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

‘You’re being so brave.’

No one had ever called me brave before, and the thought distracted me from the next lot of stinging. He wiped my foot with a cool, wet cloth.

‘Ouch!’

‘Nice and clean. Just a bandage now.’ He re-wrapped the arch, and I could smell the soap that made everything he used sanitary. ‘Now. Do you think you can walk?’

I tried to get up. My foot did feel a little better. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. I need you to fetch me water. Do you think you can manage that?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good girl. Off you go.’

I hobbled into the kitchen. My parents kept a large barrel of water that they filled every three or four days from the town well. If Mother felt generous, she drew fresh water from nearby mountain streams. That water was the freshest and less prone to making people sick. I grabbed a bowl and dipped it into the barrel. I took a sip, and the water tasted smooth and sweet. I dipped the bowl back in, and when I pulled it out again, I checked the water depth with my finger—full to the brim. I walked slowly, minimising the amount of water that sloshed to the floor as I went back to the bedroom.

‘Here.’ Varago took the bowl from my hands. ‘Do you know where the bread is kept?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fetch me some bread then, please.’

When I found the kitchen bench, I searched the top with my hands. I found several different cooking instruments. Some were round, others sharp. One in particular was so confusing that I struggled to figure out its use. Eventually, I found a stale bread roll, and my stomach rumbled. For the first time, I focused on getting a better sense of my body in relation to the house by memorising where different objects were and where walls began and ended. My confidence increased, and I moved less cautiously as I returned to the bedroom.

‘Well done, Adenine. Your mother is quite dried and hungry.’

‘Dried?’ I asked.

‘People need water. When your body has no water inside, the skin dries, and the body does not like it.’

‘A-Adenine,’ Mother whispered.

‘Mama!’

‘Sh. Not so loud,’ Varago scolded.

I lowered my voice. ‘Mama, are you awake? Are you well?’

‘Varago,’ she said.

‘Yes. I am here, sweet Capacia. Look what has happened to you, so much misfortune.’

Guilt pulled at me. ‘Mama, please be well.’ I sniffled and stumbled towards the bed, where I traced my hands from her feet and up her leg until I found her hand. I grasped her fingers, but they didn’t clench back.

‘I found Adenine wandering the streets,’ Varago said. ‘She is… older.’

‘Yes. And brave to roam about looking for you to save me. I used to be so capable,’ she croaked.

‘Here, eat this,’ he instructed, and I knew he was feeding Mother the bread. ‘And drink. You’re very sick, Capacia.’

‘I know. Adenine is hungry, too. She has not eaten for several days.’

‘Adenine is young and healthy. You, however, are a fish out of water. I will take care of her. You focus on recovering.’

‘You are right, Varago, but give her a little something now. She has done so well.’

‘No, Mama. You have it all.’ But a small crust was placed in my hands, and despite my previous protest, I shoved it into my mouth. I felt bad that I had taken her food, but I couldn’t help it. I was so hungry. The bread stuck in my throat, and I had to swallow several times to move it along. I stopped chewing for a moment to listen to Mother chomping on her own portion of the bread then slurping down water. The sounds made me happy. Mother always said that having an appetite was a sign of health.

That night, Varago cooked in our kitchen. He made lamb soup with an assortment of vegetables and herbs, like rosemary and thyme. We ate together in silence, and for the first time in three days, I didn’t feel so alone.

‘Adenine, I cannot become your maid. I have things to do. Jemely, my niece, will come to visit. She’ll bring you supplies and anything else you need. But
you
will have to take care of your mother.’

‘Is Jemely immune to my sickness too?’

Varago was silent for a moment. ‘Yes, she is.’

‘Mama said that only people related to me couldn’t catch it.’

Varago took another long pause before answering. ‘Jemely and I are special. You needn’t fear us catching anything from you.’

I was relieved. The last thing I wanted was for anyone else to get sick. How could I, a blind girl, a sick girl, take care of Mama? ‘What if I hurt her?’