Cousin of the Earth
| traci (at) orossy.com |
Nadeer opened his eyes at Jussi’s knock, and shuddered. Today was the day he’d have to treat an
actual patient at the Infirmary while the Healers watched, and observed. All he wanted to do was pull the
blankets over his head and pretend he’d overslept. . . .
“Master Nadeer? Are you awake?” Jussi called, his voice muffled through the door.
With a sigh, the Cleric thrust aside his warm blankets with enough noise that Jussi would hear him. He
hated his grandfather’s valet at that moment even though the man was only doing his job to make sure
that Nadeer would not be late for classes. “Yes, yes, Jussi, I’m up. Thank you.”
Nadeer waited until the man’s footsteps disappeared down the hallway before he rolled over in his bed
and opened the drawer in his nightstand. Under three pairs of undershorts and a pile of silk
handkerchiefs, he found what he was looking for. Three vials left. Not nearly enough for what he was
going to have to deal with today. Nadeer grabbed one of the vials and rummaged through the chest at
the foot of his bed, trying to find something nice but not uncomfortable for his presentation at the
Infirmary, his stomach churning with a nervousness that he knew could only be quelled by the substance
in the vial.
Eryk knew. Of course he knew. How could he not? Yet he didn’t say a word, not to Nadeer, not
even to Maddren, keeping his bondmate’s secret for reasons that the Cleric didn’t know. Maybe Eryk
only knew that Nadeer had changed, somehow, but didn’t know the reason. Surely, if the Seraph knew
that he had stolen—no, stolen was too harsh a word—prescribed arrenswort for himself, he would have
descended upon Nadeer with all the fury of a rabid wildcat.
Nothing happened, leaving Nadeer to presume that Eryk didn’t care. No one did, or they would have
stopped him. Nothing he did could get Eryk’s attention, not speaking to him, not coaxing him with
enticing new feather-oils. No matter what he tried, the Seraph kept his newfound barriers up tight
against any possible influence. Nadeer would have to do something more drastic, soon; he didn’t know
how much more of Eryk’s ambivalence he could take.
He didn’t dare to go to his grandfather for help. Maddren was busy seeing to the needs of his people
as well as negotiating the problems and special circumstances that came with his two new wards,
especially Eryk. Gossip had spread through Sakkireth with the speed of thought and soon every Asteri
from leagues around wanted to see the cousin-of-the-wind, to meet a creature stepped out of the pages
of their children’s books and into their city.
By mutual agreement with his caretaker, Eryk was in seclusion in Maddren’s home until the newness
wore off and he was more comfortable living among the humans. They took great care of Eryk and his
feelings, but they didn’t seem to think that his bondmate needed the same consideration. Nadeer was
fine. Just ship him off to the Infirmary among strangers and let the Healers take care of him.
The Cleric gave a sigh that sounded nearly like a sob. Maddren didn’t have the healing gift, didn’t
understand the implications of carrying the gift along with a heavy dose of empathy. Maddren’s son had
flourished in the Infirmary; why shouldn’t his grandson? Bonded to a Seraph or no, it seemed to
everyone that the only place a Healer could be happy was in the Infirmary, healing people, but every day
it became harder to force himself to go, and without the arrenswort he wouldn’t have had the courage to
make it past Maddren’s front door.
Nadeer hated the Infirmary and the people there, though he went to great pains to hide it lest word get
back to his grandfather and reflect badly on the Lord Governor. While the full Healers generally ignored
him outside of the classroom, several of the girls and one or two of the boys in his class had made
overtures, attempting to make him feel welcome among them, and slamming him with innumerable
questions about his past and about Eryk. The attention from so many was rather disconcerting and
overwhelming—he was used to the ambivalent respect he’d gotten from the boys at Four Winds, and
having these students approach him out of friendship and avid curiosity was something he didn’t quite
know how to deal with.
The girls, especially, seemed to find his slight physical differences fascinating, and smiled at him and
tried to entice him into discussion about his past. He was polite enough, and when he began to limit his
answers to one or two words, they withdrew, a little hurt. He wished he had the words to tell them
why; he knew little about females, being raised in an exclusively male monastery, and while they were
pretty in their own way, he did not feel the same attraction they had toward him.
The boys tried a different approach, joking with him, or encouraging one of their classmates, a shy,
skinny youth in his overtures toward Nadeer. The only response they got was a blush from the Cleric,
embarrassed at the behavior that would have been taboo among the mountain folk. They were much
freer here with touch and speech. He assumed it was because among so many mind-readers, it was hard
to hide anything, so best to share whatever was on one’s mind to prevent any ill feelings later.
Much to Nadeer’s relief, the students finally gave up and left him alone. He didn’t know how to tell
them that their intense and lively presence was becoming a major irritant to him. Everything in the
Infirmary was; ever since he had started classes, his senses had become far more acute. He scratched
when he felt someone else itch. He stuck his finger in his mouth to ease the pain when someone else got
a paper cut. When a patient was brought in with a broken arm, Nadeer gritted his teeth at the
sympathetic pain in his own arm.
Every day when classes were over he would race back to his grandfather’s home and into one of the
fine tubs, scrubbing zealously to rid himself of the sensation of wearing a dozen different skins.
Maddren’s home was the only place he felt safe to be, the only place in Sakkireth shielded from outside
minds. His grandfather was a paragon of skill and control, and kept his own shields so perfectly in place
that the only way Nadeer knew they were in the same room was if he used his eyes instead of his other
senses. Eryk was much the same way, having learned a few of Maddren’s tricks for control, and
unnoticeable except for the inevitable lurking in the back of Nadeer’s mind.
But Nadeer, Nadeer was supposed to learn his control at the Infirmary with the other Healers, but what
they were teaching him was of no use at all. They gave him lessons on how to use his mind-gift, what
and what not to use it for, but they did not teach control. That was something the others all seemed to
have learned as young children, and it seemed to be taken for granted that either Nadeer had learned on
his own, or the formidable Lord Maddren was seeing to that part of his education. The tactics that
Rewenna had briefly explained only worked to shield him against the most mild of symptoms, and even
that had begun to fail. Now, the only way he could get any peace at all was with a heavy dose of
arrenswort in his system.
Suitably dressed in a loose linen shirt and matching breeches, Nadeer rolled the glass vial back and
forth in his palm, watching the white powder slide around. There were other reasons besides his
overwhelming sensitivity that he took the drug. Eryk hadn’t spoken to him, not for several weeks. He
seemed to be able to forget that the Cleric even existed. Nadeer wished that such indifference could
work both ways. He couldn’t forget Eryk, or what the Seraph had said to him. He couldn’t even block
him out; the Seraph might not be speaking to him, but Nadeer could sense his bondmate’s presence
every moment of the day. Eryk was always there, lurking in the back of his mind, reminding him of
how he’d used Cadvyr’s image, of how he’d let Jakketh die. Eryk might be blocking him out, but he
could not shake the sensation that the Seraph was always watching him, disapproving, blaming him.
How could he explain that to his classmates? They would think him mad. Better to say nothing and keep
to himself, to focus on finding a way to get through to Eryk.
Using the fingernail on his thumb, Nadeer pried open the cork on the vial and poured its contents into a
glass of wine left over from his snack last night. With his finger, he stirred the grains until they
dissolved before tipping the glass back and swallowing it in one gulp. He stuck his finger in his mouth
and licked it clean, determined to get every last drop.
It seemed to take so much longer than it used to. Nadeer held still, as if it would hurry the substance
through his body all the faster. Closing his eyes, he imagined the arrenswort coursing through his veins,
reaching every part of him from scalp to toenail even though it wouldn’t do any good. He never had
been able to work his mind-gift on himself.
Impatient, he rubbed his upper arm where Eryk had scarred him. It was strange; any injuries he’d
sustained in childhood had healed quickly, and he could only remember being sick once in his life, so
why had this injury been so serious? It must have had something to do with Bekkine dampening their
mind-gifts. Ndeer hadn’t been able to sense Eryk and it had also dampened his ability to heal. When he’
d woken Eryk, and the Seraph had slashed his arm, it had bled profusely until the apprentice Healer had
come and did his best to bind the wound. Even then, it still oozed until Bekkine’s dampening field had
been shattered by Jakketh’s enforced Link.
The memory chilled him. He was a Cleric; he knew that his arm should have stopped bleeding long
before it had, but whatever Bekkine had done had suppressed his body’s ability to heal itself. What
would have happened to him if Jakketh wouldn’t have come? Would he have bled to death, slowly,
without anyone even realizing why? Certainly the apprentice had no idea what he was up against, and
Bekkine was too crafty to call in a true Healer when they had a chance of reporting him to Lord
Maddren. Besides, it wasn’t the Cleric they were after, but his bondmate. Nadeer meant nothing to the
Lycenians.
But, if he’d died, Eryk would have too, unless Bekkine could have broken their bond first. It wouldn’t
have mattered that Eryk would have been no more than simpering, senseless fool; the Lycenian would
have had the Seraph to take back to the desert for his superiors, and to sell for profit in some neighboring
land.
His chest burned as heat began to flow through his body, the first signs of the drug taking effect. Bit
by bit, the ambient emotions and sensations quieted until even Eryk’s demanding presence was nothing
more than a slight buzz in the back of his mind. Eryk would never be gone completely from his mind,
but at least this way Nadeer didn’t care whether the Seraph was there or not. The arrenswort could
make his disappointment go away, cause him not to care that his grandfather spent more time with the
Seraph than him. With the drug, he could turn off the part of his brain that cared and hide it away
somewhere while the rest of him spoke and functioned and responded as the Healers and everyone else
around him expected him to.
He eyed the two remaining vials in the drawer of his night table. His body nagged him to take another
one, because today was the day he would have to treat a patient in the Infirmary. Rewenna had decided
he’d had enough class work and wanted to see him work with an actual patient. He wasn’t looking
forward to it, and sincerely wanted to take another vial, but he didn’t dare. He would be surrounded by
Healers, and the gods knew what they would be able to pick up. Rumor had it that the Master Herbalist
could sense the use of arrenswort from several feet away, but since the man, whoever he was, was not
well liked among his peers, Nadeer decided that it was little more than an exaggeration to keep the
students in line. He’d never met the man, and was glad of it, though he was terrified of the day when the
Master Herbalist realized that more arrenswort was gone than had been prescribed to patients.
The Healers that were his teachers must not have had a sensitivity to drugs or they would have noticed
he’d been taking arrenswort for the past two moonspans. It hadn’t been hard to get in the first place,
and it was so commonly used in the Infirmary that no one kept strict track of where the vials
disappeared to. Rewenna had passed a vial it around one of the classes while she explained the properties
of the drug. He was the last the vial had come to, and Rewenna had been so involved in her lecture that
she never asked for it back, and the students took no notice of its disappearance. Nadeer originally had
been interested in it because of what it had done to Eryk. He only meant to study it, and had taken a
small taste of it, but that one pinch had dulled his fear and his talents. He could function again without
feeling ambient pain and without exerting energy to keep his barriers intact.
After that, he’d only had to raid the cabinets at the Infirmary every once in a while, when the Healers
were busy elsewhere. . . .
Since today a throng of eager Healers would be surrounding him, there wasn’t much of a chance that
he would be able to steal any more arrenswort. He’d be better off saving what he had left to use when
he got home after the Healers had picked him apart for the way he treated patients. With a sigh of regret,
Nadeer left the two remaining vials where they lay and made his way to the Infirmary.
Back to my books
actual patient at the Infirmary while the Healers watched, and observed. All he wanted to do was pull the
blankets over his head and pretend he’d overslept. . . .
“Master Nadeer? Are you awake?” Jussi called, his voice muffled through the door.
With a sigh, the Cleric thrust aside his warm blankets with enough noise that Jussi would hear him. He
hated his grandfather’s valet at that moment even though the man was only doing his job to make sure
that Nadeer would not be late for classes. “Yes, yes, Jussi, I’m up. Thank you.”
Nadeer waited until the man’s footsteps disappeared down the hallway before he rolled over in his bed
and opened the drawer in his nightstand. Under three pairs of undershorts and a pile of silk
handkerchiefs, he found what he was looking for. Three vials left. Not nearly enough for what he was
going to have to deal with today. Nadeer grabbed one of the vials and rummaged through the chest at
the foot of his bed, trying to find something nice but not uncomfortable for his presentation at the
Infirmary, his stomach churning with a nervousness that he knew could only be quelled by the substance
in the vial.
Eryk knew. Of course he knew. How could he not? Yet he didn’t say a word, not to Nadeer, not
even to Maddren, keeping his bondmate’s secret for reasons that the Cleric didn’t know. Maybe Eryk
only knew that Nadeer had changed, somehow, but didn’t know the reason. Surely, if the Seraph knew
that he had stolen—no, stolen was too harsh a word—prescribed arrenswort for himself, he would have
descended upon Nadeer with all the fury of a rabid wildcat.
Nothing happened, leaving Nadeer to presume that Eryk didn’t care. No one did, or they would have
stopped him. Nothing he did could get Eryk’s attention, not speaking to him, not coaxing him with
enticing new feather-oils. No matter what he tried, the Seraph kept his newfound barriers up tight
against any possible influence. Nadeer would have to do something more drastic, soon; he didn’t know
how much more of Eryk’s ambivalence he could take.
He didn’t dare to go to his grandfather for help. Maddren was busy seeing to the needs of his people
as well as negotiating the problems and special circumstances that came with his two new wards,
especially Eryk. Gossip had spread through Sakkireth with the speed of thought and soon every Asteri
from leagues around wanted to see the cousin-of-the-wind, to meet a creature stepped out of the pages
of their children’s books and into their city.
By mutual agreement with his caretaker, Eryk was in seclusion in Maddren’s home until the newness
wore off and he was more comfortable living among the humans. They took great care of Eryk and his
feelings, but they didn’t seem to think that his bondmate needed the same consideration. Nadeer was
fine. Just ship him off to the Infirmary among strangers and let the Healers take care of him.
The Cleric gave a sigh that sounded nearly like a sob. Maddren didn’t have the healing gift, didn’t
understand the implications of carrying the gift along with a heavy dose of empathy. Maddren’s son had
flourished in the Infirmary; why shouldn’t his grandson? Bonded to a Seraph or no, it seemed to
everyone that the only place a Healer could be happy was in the Infirmary, healing people, but every day
it became harder to force himself to go, and without the arrenswort he wouldn’t have had the courage to
make it past Maddren’s front door.
Nadeer hated the Infirmary and the people there, though he went to great pains to hide it lest word get
back to his grandfather and reflect badly on the Lord Governor. While the full Healers generally ignored
him outside of the classroom, several of the girls and one or two of the boys in his class had made
overtures, attempting to make him feel welcome among them, and slamming him with innumerable
questions about his past and about Eryk. The attention from so many was rather disconcerting and
overwhelming—he was used to the ambivalent respect he’d gotten from the boys at Four Winds, and
having these students approach him out of friendship and avid curiosity was something he didn’t quite
know how to deal with.
The girls, especially, seemed to find his slight physical differences fascinating, and smiled at him and
tried to entice him into discussion about his past. He was polite enough, and when he began to limit his
answers to one or two words, they withdrew, a little hurt. He wished he had the words to tell them
why; he knew little about females, being raised in an exclusively male monastery, and while they were
pretty in their own way, he did not feel the same attraction they had toward him.
The boys tried a different approach, joking with him, or encouraging one of their classmates, a shy,
skinny youth in his overtures toward Nadeer. The only response they got was a blush from the Cleric,
embarrassed at the behavior that would have been taboo among the mountain folk. They were much
freer here with touch and speech. He assumed it was because among so many mind-readers, it was hard
to hide anything, so best to share whatever was on one’s mind to prevent any ill feelings later.
Much to Nadeer’s relief, the students finally gave up and left him alone. He didn’t know how to tell
them that their intense and lively presence was becoming a major irritant to him. Everything in the
Infirmary was; ever since he had started classes, his senses had become far more acute. He scratched
when he felt someone else itch. He stuck his finger in his mouth to ease the pain when someone else got
a paper cut. When a patient was brought in with a broken arm, Nadeer gritted his teeth at the
sympathetic pain in his own arm.
Every day when classes were over he would race back to his grandfather’s home and into one of the
fine tubs, scrubbing zealously to rid himself of the sensation of wearing a dozen different skins.
Maddren’s home was the only place he felt safe to be, the only place in Sakkireth shielded from outside
minds. His grandfather was a paragon of skill and control, and kept his own shields so perfectly in place
that the only way Nadeer knew they were in the same room was if he used his eyes instead of his other
senses. Eryk was much the same way, having learned a few of Maddren’s tricks for control, and
unnoticeable except for the inevitable lurking in the back of Nadeer’s mind.
But Nadeer, Nadeer was supposed to learn his control at the Infirmary with the other Healers, but what
they were teaching him was of no use at all. They gave him lessons on how to use his mind-gift, what
and what not to use it for, but they did not teach control. That was something the others all seemed to
have learned as young children, and it seemed to be taken for granted that either Nadeer had learned on
his own, or the formidable Lord Maddren was seeing to that part of his education. The tactics that
Rewenna had briefly explained only worked to shield him against the most mild of symptoms, and even
that had begun to fail. Now, the only way he could get any peace at all was with a heavy dose of
arrenswort in his system.
Suitably dressed in a loose linen shirt and matching breeches, Nadeer rolled the glass vial back and
forth in his palm, watching the white powder slide around. There were other reasons besides his
overwhelming sensitivity that he took the drug. Eryk hadn’t spoken to him, not for several weeks. He
seemed to be able to forget that the Cleric even existed. Nadeer wished that such indifference could
work both ways. He couldn’t forget Eryk, or what the Seraph had said to him. He couldn’t even block
him out; the Seraph might not be speaking to him, but Nadeer could sense his bondmate’s presence
every moment of the day. Eryk was always there, lurking in the back of his mind, reminding him of
how he’d used Cadvyr’s image, of how he’d let Jakketh die. Eryk might be blocking him out, but he
could not shake the sensation that the Seraph was always watching him, disapproving, blaming him.
How could he explain that to his classmates? They would think him mad. Better to say nothing and keep
to himself, to focus on finding a way to get through to Eryk.
Using the fingernail on his thumb, Nadeer pried open the cork on the vial and poured its contents into a
glass of wine left over from his snack last night. With his finger, he stirred the grains until they
dissolved before tipping the glass back and swallowing it in one gulp. He stuck his finger in his mouth
and licked it clean, determined to get every last drop.
It seemed to take so much longer than it used to. Nadeer held still, as if it would hurry the substance
through his body all the faster. Closing his eyes, he imagined the arrenswort coursing through his veins,
reaching every part of him from scalp to toenail even though it wouldn’t do any good. He never had
been able to work his mind-gift on himself.
Impatient, he rubbed his upper arm where Eryk had scarred him. It was strange; any injuries he’d
sustained in childhood had healed quickly, and he could only remember being sick once in his life, so
why had this injury been so serious? It must have had something to do with Bekkine dampening their
mind-gifts. Ndeer hadn’t been able to sense Eryk and it had also dampened his ability to heal. When he’
d woken Eryk, and the Seraph had slashed his arm, it had bled profusely until the apprentice Healer had
come and did his best to bind the wound. Even then, it still oozed until Bekkine’s dampening field had
been shattered by Jakketh’s enforced Link.
The memory chilled him. He was a Cleric; he knew that his arm should have stopped bleeding long
before it had, but whatever Bekkine had done had suppressed his body’s ability to heal itself. What
would have happened to him if Jakketh wouldn’t have come? Would he have bled to death, slowly,
without anyone even realizing why? Certainly the apprentice had no idea what he was up against, and
Bekkine was too crafty to call in a true Healer when they had a chance of reporting him to Lord
Maddren. Besides, it wasn’t the Cleric they were after, but his bondmate. Nadeer meant nothing to the
Lycenians.
But, if he’d died, Eryk would have too, unless Bekkine could have broken their bond first. It wouldn’t
have mattered that Eryk would have been no more than simpering, senseless fool; the Lycenian would
have had the Seraph to take back to the desert for his superiors, and to sell for profit in some neighboring
land.
His chest burned as heat began to flow through his body, the first signs of the drug taking effect. Bit
by bit, the ambient emotions and sensations quieted until even Eryk’s demanding presence was nothing
more than a slight buzz in the back of his mind. Eryk would never be gone completely from his mind,
but at least this way Nadeer didn’t care whether the Seraph was there or not. The arrenswort could
make his disappointment go away, cause him not to care that his grandfather spent more time with the
Seraph than him. With the drug, he could turn off the part of his brain that cared and hide it away
somewhere while the rest of him spoke and functioned and responded as the Healers and everyone else
around him expected him to.
He eyed the two remaining vials in the drawer of his night table. His body nagged him to take another
one, because today was the day he would have to treat a patient in the Infirmary. Rewenna had decided
he’d had enough class work and wanted to see him work with an actual patient. He wasn’t looking
forward to it, and sincerely wanted to take another vial, but he didn’t dare. He would be surrounded by
Healers, and the gods knew what they would be able to pick up. Rumor had it that the Master Herbalist
could sense the use of arrenswort from several feet away, but since the man, whoever he was, was not
well liked among his peers, Nadeer decided that it was little more than an exaggeration to keep the
students in line. He’d never met the man, and was glad of it, though he was terrified of the day when the
Master Herbalist realized that more arrenswort was gone than had been prescribed to patients.
The Healers that were his teachers must not have had a sensitivity to drugs or they would have noticed
he’d been taking arrenswort for the past two moonspans. It hadn’t been hard to get in the first place,
and it was so commonly used in the Infirmary that no one kept strict track of where the vials
disappeared to. Rewenna had passed a vial it around one of the classes while she explained the properties
of the drug. He was the last the vial had come to, and Rewenna had been so involved in her lecture that
she never asked for it back, and the students took no notice of its disappearance. Nadeer originally had
been interested in it because of what it had done to Eryk. He only meant to study it, and had taken a
small taste of it, but that one pinch had dulled his fear and his talents. He could function again without
feeling ambient pain and without exerting energy to keep his barriers intact.
After that, he’d only had to raid the cabinets at the Infirmary every once in a while, when the Healers
were busy elsewhere. . . .
Since today a throng of eager Healers would be surrounding him, there wasn’t much of a chance that
he would be able to steal any more arrenswort. He’d be better off saving what he had left to use when
he got home after the Healers had picked him apart for the way he treated patients. With a sigh of regret,
Nadeer left the two remaining vials where they lay and made his way to the Infirmary.
Back to my books