Warp World (6 page)

The lights were the biggest surprise. The trans driver had used a control pad to turn them on but when Ama asked how to turn them off again he had only grumbled, “Ignorant Outer,” before hurrying back outside. That night the lights had shut off on their own. Then in the morning (at least Ama had assumed it was morning), on the lights had come again. Seg had explained electricity to her but it still seemed like magic. And the magic lights that turned on and off when they pleased made the Kenda uneasy.

But no matter how strange the setting, the Kenda had each other and spent their first day making the dirty and neglected building into a home. There was singing and whistling, stories and laughter as the men worked. Viren and Prow had a card game running as soon as they could piece together a table—dividing up the food rations for wagering. And though there was already division among them—the older Kenda and many of the Secat prisoners gravitated to Cerd, the younger and more boisterous to Viren—Ama was buoyed by this small pocket of home amid the gloom.

Her one worry had been the doors. Three were large and well-sealed, the fourth, the one through which they had entered, she had ensured was both locked and barred. She trusted Seg but she knew this world was as full of enemies as her own.

Now, she chewed her food bar absently while Viren chattered on about the sad state of the building.

“Why did you come here?” she interrupted. “And don’t tell me it was for Brin, because I know my cousin didn’t want you to leave.”

“It was time to move on.” He spread his hands wide and sang in a low voice.

Never the compass will point you to home,

So ride well the seed winds, forever to roam.

Ama smiled and joined in.

To the Rift, and the Westlands, the ice of the Spires,

A-rolling, a-churning, to the depths and the fire.

The Big Water’s callin’ you boy.

I said, the Big—

A loud BANG, BANG, BANG, cut off the next verse. Ama reached for her knife, Viren jumped to his feet. They both cocked their heads.

The sound came again and Ama knew what it was: someone wanted in.

“Seg!”

Viren helped her up and they abandoned her hiding spot to join the throng that was striding quickly to the door. One of the men reached for the metal rod they had used as a barricade.

“Wait!” Ama whispered, just loud enough for the men to hear. She stepped in front of the door handle and raised a finger to her lips to silence them. “Who are you?” she shouted to the closed door.

“Elarn Fataleh,” a gruff voice answered in the language of Seg’s people. “Theorist Eraranat sent me. Now open the kargin’ door.”

Seg’s name was enough to satisfy the men but Ama shook her head vigorously.

“Where’s Seg? How do I know he sent you?”

There was a silence. Then cursing. Then “Blood for water.”

The words were spoken in the most garbled Kenda she had ever heard, but those three words, the code of the Kenda resistance, were all Ama needed. She nodded, telling the men to let this Elarn inside.

Muted afternoon light fell over the newcomer as he entered. Darkness stained his every move; his black hair was shaved to stubble, and he peered out at the crowd through eyes overshadowed by a thick ridge of brow.
More a shadow than a man
, Ama thought, seeing his look of world-weary distrust and disbelief.

He regarded the crowd expectantly, then shook his head and walked deeper into the building. On his back, he shouldered a large gray bag. The men kept their distance as Elarn found Viren’s card table, slung the bag onto it, and said, “Right. Clear this mess. Line up at this table. Most injured first.”

This was the healer? But as if in response to Ama’s doubt, he opened the bag and pulled out a series of instruments. She had seen these before, when the chatterer was put into her head.

“Come on, come on.” Elarn gestured impatiently.

“They don’t speak your language yet,” Ama said.

“Then translate. I’m not being paid to speak gibberish,” he said.

After a quick explanation, young Tirnich moved to clear the table. Ama stepped aside to let one of the other men forward but Viren put a hand in the middle of her back and pushed her toward Elarn.

“This one first,” Viren said, with a look to Ama, then to the rest of the men, that made it clear there would be trouble if anyone said otherwise.

“Kalder, right?” Elarn asked. He snatched Ama’s wounded arm before she could answer and wrapped a large cuff around her wrist.

“Ama Kalder, yes,” she said, watching him closely. “Where’s Seg?”

“I don’t know. Don’t talk, Outer. You’ll disturb the machine.” He studied the results, then muttered to himself. “Lucky. Must have been an upward stab, with the blade horizontal. Missed the lung
and
only nicked the collarbone.” As he read further, he made a
tch-
ing sound. “He said you had an auto-med.”

“I gave it to one of the other men,” she said, when she had caught her breath.

“Idiot,” Elarn muttered, then something else too low for her to hear. He pushed a button on the cuff. “You stop antibiotic treatment that early in and you make the bacteria more resistant and more virulent.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. I wouldn’t expect the table to understand either. Kargin’ stupid Outer. Now I have to wait for a sample so the machine can formulate an effective antibiotic.”

Ama clutched the edge of the table with her good hand as burning needles of pain shot through her body.

“Nictitating membrane,” Elarn said. “You all have those?”

“What?” Ama wheezed, through the pain.

Elarn pointed to her eyes and Ama caught his meaning. “Our second eyelids? Yes, all Kenda have them.”

Elarn let out a grunt but said nothing more and made no comment on her dathe. Maybe Seg had told him about them?

“If Seg—” She fought to catch her breath. “—sent you, how come you don’t know where he is?”

“He was at the Guild compound medfac when I met him. I have no idea where he is now. Now lie down and be quiet!” He shoved her back on the table.

“Easy there.” Viren clamped a large hand on Elarn’s shoulder.

A few of the other men stepped in closer.

Elarn looked up with bared teeth, then glanced to Ama. “Ask him if he can heal you.” Ama translated, rushing to keep up as Elarn continued, directing his words to Viren. “She’s riddled with infection. Without treatment, she’ll die. So get your hand off me, Outer, and let me work.”

As Viren started to speak, Cerd stepped up to the table. “Let the man work.”

“The man can work without tossing the Captain around like a slab of meat for butchering.” He turned his face to Elarn, hand still on the man’s shoulder. “You
are
a healer, not a butcher, correct?”

Ama gave Viren a warning stare. “I’m not going to tell him th—”

“I heal People, yes.” Elarn released Ama, whose mouth hung open at the sound of
S’ora
, the common tongue of her world, coming from his mouth. He turned to face Viren. “Though now I’m paid to heal animals. And if you don’t let go of my arm, there’ll be one more animal to fix before I leave.”

“So you do speak our language, when it suits you.” Viren let out a laugh. “Animals? Is that what we are?” He waved his free arm to his fellow Kenda who whistled and shouted back at him.

In a swift motion, he lifted Elarn by the collar and swung him until he was on the ground with a knee on his throat.

“Viren! No!” Ama leaped off the table.

Elarn grasped Viren’s ankle. Ama saw the shape of the stunner beneath his sleeve but it was too late; the larger man flew backward in a spastic convulsion. As Viren slumped to the ground, Elarn rolled away and drew his pistol. He coughed, a ghastly wracking sound, as he waved the weapon around. “Don’t test me.”

Ama raised her good hand in surrender. “Don’t. Please. Forgive them. They know nothing of your world. Seg was supposed to escort them here and explain everything. They don’t know how Outers are treated here.”

She yelled out to the men, “Back away! He’s not going to hurt you. Do what this man says.” To Elarn, she added, “I’m lying down, see? No one will hurt you. They’re just protective of their own.”

Elarn rose to his feet without lowering the pistol. Below him, blood oozed from Viren’s scalp, a small cut where his head had hit the edge of a crate. “Told you, you bastard. He’s not dead. But the next one of you that so much as looks at me without invitation dies.”

He slid his pistol into the holster and strode back to Ama’s side. From his instruments, he plucked out the same kind of tube-shaped object that had been used to put Seg to sleep in the decon chamber. Elarn popped a small cylinder into the instrument and pressed it next to her wound, and then, gradually, into the wound. There was a hiss, followed by a sensation of cold. The area began to numb.

“Hold still,” he said, probing at the wound.

Ama did as ordered. She saw Tirnich had gone to Viren’s side. Cerd hadn’t moved an inch and only looked down on the fallen man with one corner of his mouth pulled up, which lowered even further Ama’s opinion of the man. Viren was loudmouthed and quick to act without thinking, but his loyalty was unquestionable. Cerd, on the other hand, no matter how well behaved, was a traitor.

Once more she wondered how Brin had put his faith in a Rift pirate.

“I know Seg,” Ama said to Elarn as he worked, keeping her voice low. “If you treat these men well, he’ll reward you. Are you certain you have no news of him?”

Elarn sighed as he reached for another instrument. This one was shaped almost like a gun, but a blue light shone from the tip. When he pressed it to Ama’s skin, thin smoke rose off the end.

“He’ll be here by nightfall. He would come sooner but the medical treating him wants to finish another round of tests. I have orders to make sure of your health, specifically, and your well-being, as well as the health of the other Outers. He said there were several wounded but that none were beyond recovery. He obviously doesn’t know his medicine, judging from the state of these Outers. You certainly wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

The machine beeped, and Ama felt another round of burning pain move through her.

“Antibiotic. It might work.” Elarn shrugged, leaned back, and swiped a small wand over his hands. “You’re done. Send me the next one.”

Ama examined her shoulder. A jagged red line marked where the wound was sealed. She was aware of the pain but it was dull now. Numbed.

“That’s it?” She dared a small smile. “I didn’t feel anything.”

“I wasted good drugs on you.” Elarn tossed the wand back into his kit. “Next.”

The next man limped to the table, eyeing Elarn warily. Ama helped remove the bandage from the man’s leg. “Thank you,” she said. “For the painless healing, and the news of Seg. I’m grateful—we’re all grateful.”

He grunted as he stared at the next patient’s wound—a long gash across the thigh. “It’s a miracle you don’t all die young, as filthy as you keep yourselves.”

Ama bit back a retort. If she hadn’t known how necessary this man was, she would have let Viren have his way. “I’ll check on my friend, then return.”

Viren had wandered to a chair a safe distance away from the healer and watched him carefully.

“How’s your head?” Ama asked in a low voice as she approached.

“Still on my body.”

“And if you want it to stay there, try to lash that tongue next time.” She slipped her hand onto his shoulder and offered a quick squeeze. “Thanks.”

“It was my pleasure, for as long as it lasted. I can’t promise what I might say or do once the good healer’s work is done here.”

“You’ll hold your damn tongue,” Cerd said. He positioned himself to block Viren’s view of Elarn. “You’re lucky he just scratched you this time; we don’t need the problems he could bring us.”

Viren stared at Cerd for a long moment. “I take no orders from you, Cerd.”

Cerd glared back, nodded, and cracked his knuckles. “We have problems, you and me. Maybe it’s time we settle them.”

“This isn’t—” A piercing cry interrupted Ama’s warning. She whipped her head toward the table and saw the man there struggling to get away from Elarn and the three men holding him in place.

“What are you doing to him?” Ama ran to the table.

“I’m treating him.” Elarn wrestled with his patient. “Hold him still!”

“Hold him!” Ama repeated to the Kenda.

Cerd took hold of one of the man’s arms and directed others to help.

“What about those drugs you used on me?” Ama asked. “The ones that get rid of the pain?”

“I used my stock on you. Get his leg stabilized or he’s going to lose it!” Elarn ordered.

“Hold his leg steady!” Ama yelled to the men. Her face was burning when she turned back to Elarn. “You came to treat fifty men and you only brought enough medicine to kill pain for one?” she asked, in his language.

Once the others had the leg immobilized Elarn adjusted his jacket, then resumed his work, oblivious to the whimpers and moans. “I came to treat fifty
Outers
, not men.”

She cursed in Kenda, damning the healer and his ancestors to eternity in Secat, then collected herself and calmed her breathing. At least he’d had the sense not to share that sentiment in S’ora. “Finish your work, then get out of here before I tell these
men
what kind of snake you really are.”

“I’ll be done sooner if you shut up and help me work.” Smoke sizzled away from the skin as he closed the wound.

Ama swallowed the bile that rose to her throat. Five men held down the one on the table, and still he bucked against the healer’s touch. Tirnich stood near the man’s head, talking, trying to soothe him. Viren, she noticed, had retrieved his seft and was lingering out of the healer’s eyeshot.

If they could make it through this without anyone dying, it would be a miracle.

The last of the men slid off the table; Ama let out a breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead. As the severity of the injuries and illnesses had decreased, so had the screams and cries, and the tension in the room subsided.