Canes of Divergence (27 page)

The concrete suggestion o
f action seemed to unfreeze Ben, and he pulled out his sword.

Abject terror
washed over Zander when Ben walked toward the back of the tent – toward the sick man, with his sword raised. He was too stunned to move.

But Ben walked around the cot and plunged his sword right into the back wall of the tent, slicing open as wide a strip as he could before sheathing the sword again and pulling out the shorter knife. He used that to rip the
opening larger, making an enormous hole all the way to the bottom of the tent, shoving the material he removed onto the ground outside.

The sudden burst of cool, fresh air
made Zander almost weak with relief. The smell in the tent was so overpowering, he hadn’t even noticed how stiflingly warm it was.

“Okay, help me,” he said to Zander, putting away the knife and moving to the head of the cot.

Zander went to the foot of the little bed and bent down to help lift it. He closed his mouth – while much of the smell was coming from the rotting animal carcasses in the other corner, they weren’t responsible for all of it. He wondered how long the man had been there.

It didn’t take much effort for the two of them to get the cot outside; the man didn’t weigh as much as a full-grown man should, although he probably once had.

The motion and the outside air did seem to revive the man a little. His eyes opened all the way, and a low-pitched sound came from his mouth – almost a moan, but not quite. When the man saw Zander and Ben, he looked terrified.

“It’s all right,” Ben said. “We’re going to try and help you.”

It almost looked like the man was shaking his head. His eyes were wide with panic.

“Do you need anything? Would you like something to drink?” He’d seen what looked like a metal water bottle on the ground by the cot – not that he had any desire to go back into the tent.

But at Zander’s words, the man’s whole body began convulsing, and the low moaning sounds became choked gasps. He watched in horror, afraid that the man was going to die right there in front of him. Eventually, though, the convulsions subsided, and the man’s body relaxed – as much as it could, Zander supposed, and his eyes fell closed again.

“That’s why we call it water disease,” Ben said, low next to Zander’s ear. “At the end, even just thinking about drinking…”

Back at the time of the bat incident, although Zander hadn’t been terribly bothered by the shots – except maybe for the ones on the first day – he had thought Doctor Rose was overreacting when he’d insisted on everyone getting them. Now he prayed that he was still protected by them.

“We need to burn this tent,” Ben said. “There’s nothing about this that’s possibly safe.”

“What about those animals?”

“They don’t need to be tested. They’re dead of rabies.
They have to be. I don’t know what he was
doing
with them in there. I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

“Do you think he was hunting and just got really unlucky?”

“I don’t know. Normal people don’t hunt capiyas. Or foxes, usually.”

“He had other animals in there, too.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Not now, but there were other crates stacked along the far wall.”

Ben frowned, and began walking around the outside of the tent, his sword drawn again. When he reached the corner where they’d seen the animals, he slashed at the fabric, revealing them – and letting another cloud of the putrid air escape. Zander gagged, but this time held on to whatever was left of his sandwich as he squinted and tried to see what was under there.

Now that light was pouring in from three sides of the tent, it was easier to see.
“He had more than just capiyas and foxes in here,” Zander said. “Those droppings over there by those crates are different.”

Ben
slashed away even more of the tent, opening as much of it as he could before walking over to where Zander was pointing and kneeling down to investigate. “You’re right. What was he doing?”

“I don’t know.” Zander was still
overwhelmed by the stench, but he was curious now. Pulling the cloth tighter around his face and taking a deep breath from the open flap in the tent, he knelt down between the two cages. “The fox has been dead much longer than this thing.” Another day or two, and it wouldn’t have been recognizable. The capiya, though, seemed to have died much more recently – possibly in the last day. The horrible smell wasn’t as strong by its cage, and there weren’t nearly as many flies surrounding it.

“It was bitten,” Ben said, nodding at the capiya’s leg.

It was worse than just a bite. The capiya’s entire left right leg had been mauled and torn. Its fur was clean, though, and the edges of the wound had begun to heal before it died. It had survived the attack.

“I don’t think this thing died of rabies, Ben.” He looked around more, noting two empty metal bowls in the corner of the cage, and the animal’s sunken ribs. “Or at least, I think it needs to be tested. I think maybe both of them do.”

He stood and walked back out of the tent, scanning the whole area. The relief he felt when he finally got far away enough from the odor to remove the cloth on his face was overshadowed by the sense that something was really wrong here, though he couldn’t put his finger on what.

“I could really stand to wash up,” Ben said, coming to stand beside him.

Zander nodded. “Let’s clean up in the river, and then go and find Thomas and Linnea while we wait for the soldiers to come and find us.”

Putting his face into the cool, clear stream was going to stick in his mind as one of the best sensations he’d ever felt in his life. His cheeks actually ached from grimacing against the smell for so long. He didn’t even think to ask Ben whether the water was safe to drink or not before opening his mouth and drawing in long sips straight from the surface, replacing the sour taste with the sweet fresh water.

When the question of safety finally crossed his mind after several minutes, he looked over at Ben and was relieved to see the guard doing exactly the same thing. Smiling, he turned back to the water and took several more gulps.

Rosewood Castle, Eirentheos

T
HE SITTING ROOM
was empty and the door to the bedroom was almost all the way closed when William entered the suite he shared with Quinn.

Quietly, so he wouldn’t disturb any conversation that might be going on in there, he crept to the door to take a peek.

The scene inside made him smile. Quinn was at the top of the large bed, propped up with lots of pillows, Samuel cradled in her arms. Owen was right next to her, curled into her side, his head resting on her arm, his hand wrapped protectively around the baby’s legs.

They were all asleep.

It had been a long few days for everyone, especially Owen and Quinn who were trying to make the most of every second they had together. Last night, William had finally walked Owen to his own bed after what should have been the first feeding Samuel usually woke them up for – only they’d all still been up talking.

He was enjoying watching them so much that he accidentally leaned too hard against the door, pushing it all the way open, and making it creak a little.
Oops
. He’d have to remember to ask for some oil.

The noise didn’t disturb Quinn or Owen, but Samuel’s eyes flashed open, and he started to stir.

As silently as he could, William hurried over to the bed. He held his breath as he moved Owen’s arm a couple of inches away from the baby, and then he carefully lifted Samuel into his arms and rushed him out of the room just as he opened his mouth to fuss. Whether it should have been possible or not, the baby was looking wistfully toward the bedroom.

“I know,” he said, kissing Samuel on the forehead after he closed the door. “You want your Uncle Owen. But can you settle for your father for a few minutes while your mama and your uncle get some rest?”

At the sound of his voice, the baby actually did stop fussing and looked up at him. “See, I’m not so bad,” William cooed at him, rocking him back and forth in his arms. “I took a bath this morning and everything.”

Samuel only blinked.

William chuckled. “You, on the other hand, need cleaned up a bit, I think.”

He hummed softly as he carried Samuel over to the couch, retrieving a clean diaper and
outfit from a basket of fresh laundry as he went. The baby seemed to like the sound, and lay there contentedly as William took his time, securing the new diaper just-so, and changing him out of the old, spit-stained outfit.

“Good as new,” he said when he was finished, smiling when Samuel wrapped his tiny little fingers around his thumb. “You’re pretty awesome, little love.”

Owen’s camera was still sitting on the table by the couch. It had been a constant fixture for the last three days. William had never been terribly interested in any of the technology in the other world that wasn’t medical in nature – but he was sure he would miss being able to snap the everyday images of his son’s infancy once Owen took it back.

Samuel’s current peaceful mood allowed him to take a few more nice shots.

“Want to go for a walk?” he asked, once he’d scooped the baby back into his arms.

Interpreting
his son’s relaxed silence as consent, he scribbled a quick note for Quinn, and carried Samuel into the hallway.

“William!” He heard his mother’s voice as soon as he turned the corner that led to the common room. “I was just going to head to your room to ask if you’d returned and to see if Quinn was going to remember to eat lunch.”

“I’m keeping my wife fed, Mother, don’t worry.”

“It’s my job to look after you when you’re here. You’ll be leaving again soon enough, and then I won’t be able to annoy you with my concern.”

He smiled, looking –
down
– at her. When had that happened? She’d once been the tallest woman in the world, the perfect height for him to hide in her skirts when things got overwhelming.

“You just wanted an excuse to see the baby.”

“Can you blame me? Look at him.”

Grinning, he held the little bundle out toward her. A happy little thrill ran down his spine at the look on her face as she kissed his son, cradling him close.

“You never get tired of it, do you, Mother?”

“Of babies? Of my children and grandchildren? No.” She reached to squeeze his hand in hers before taking her hand back and using one finger to sweep the tiny delicate strands of black hair away from Samuel’s forehead. “I am truly blessed. Thirteen beautiful and loving children, one of them already a king, another who will be
one someday … and two grandsons who will grow to be kings as well.” She moved her finger and kissed Samuel’s forehead.

“No mother could deserve that honor more than you do.”

She looked at him, warmth and love in her eyes. “It would have been as much an honor to be your mother, William even if you’d grown and chosen to stay in the other world with Quinn.”

“Thank you, Mother. I think I’m the honored one.”

“When I thought I was going to lose you…”

“I know. I’m sorry to have worried you all so much.”

She squeezed his hand again. “Where is Quinn, anyway?”

“I found her and Owen asleep. I thought I’d take this one for a little while and make sure she gets a nice nap.”

“I suppose I did raise you well. How are things in Mistle Village today?”

“Good.” He nodded. “Jacob and Essie send you their regards, and they promise to bring little
Patrick to see you soon. He’s smiling and babbling already.”

“And the vaccine?”

“Should be ready in the next several days. The challenge now is finding someone to test it on. It’s good news, of course, that we don’t
need
it for anyone. Jacob actually wants to test it on himself, to see if he develops enough antibodies, and Nathaniel is considering testing whether it will work as a booster dose on himself.”

“Do you think it will be safe for them?”

“Now I do. Not perfect, maybe, but not dangerous. The notes and articles Owen brought back for us were more helpful than we could have dreamed. It’s so fortunate that he brought them.”

“He’s a very special child.”

“Yes.” Special in so many ways.

“Well, since I have you to myself for a few minutes, without Quinn, could you spare me a word?”

He frowned. Weren’t they talking already? “Of course.”

“In my room?”

“Is everything all right?” he asked as he closed the door to his parents’ sitting room.

“Yes, everything is fine. I just thought this conversation called for a bit more privacy than the hallway.” She sat down on one of the overstuffed couches, still cradling Samuel.

“Well, it can’t be all that wonderful if you need to talk to me without Quinn.”

She smiled. “I suppose it does look that way, but it isn’t anything I mean to keep from her – just something I thought I’d talk to you about first.”

“Okay. So what is it, Mother?”

“I’ve been getting some very …
interesting
messages from Sophia.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m not surprised. I’ve gotten a few of them myself.”

“She’s going to make Quinn’s life miserable.”

“She’s very good at what she does.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know how to handle her, Mother. She’s the former queen – she knows every inch of the castle and all of the servants … and she’s Quinn’s grandmother. Quinn has so little family – anywhere, really, but here in this world especially. I don’t want to get between her and her family.”

“I know, son, but Sophia is overstepping her bounds. Her most recent message was asking about how to choose between her final three candidates for a baby nurse. I finally got irritated and wrote back that she needed to hold off on the whole thing until you all return and allow Quinn to pick. I haven’t heard from her since.”

William let out a deep sigh. “That would explain the message I just received about how I was really asking too much of my family to have you all travel to Philotheum at this time of the cycle for the Naming Ceremony. Apparently, I don’t have enough regard for the safety of the children.”

His mother threw her head back and laughed. “I don’t suspect she also suggested waiting until the new cycle to travel back to her with
your
child.”

“Of course not.
There’s some rationale, you know, about our only going one way and not a round trip, but…”

“Exactly. I know, William.” She chuckled. The baby stirred in her arms, but she shifted him, quickly and expertly to her shoulder, patting
his back. He let out a big belch, making them both laugh.

“I should have checked that. I think he might have fallen asleep while Quinn was feeding him.”

“He’s my grandson. He can burp on me as much as he wants to.” She kissed the top of his head. “Anyway, what I wanted to speak to you about is Mia.”

“What about her?”

She sighed. “The reason I’m talking to you first and not to Quinn is that I don’t want to overstep my bounds with her, either. I don’t want her to feel as if I’m trying to control her choices.”

“I don’t think she feels that way about you at all.”

“Perhaps because I choose to be careful. It’s a skill I’ve really had to practice with Evelyn, who will someday rule this castle beside Simon, and who is already trying to raise her child here. I’m sure there are some days she probably feels the way about me that Quinn does about Sophia.”

“You underestimate Sophia.”

“Maybe. Anyway, I don’t want Quinn – or you – to feel obligated by what I’m about to suggest to you. Your family … your castle … how you handle things is your choice.”

“Understood, Mother. Thank you. Now what about Mia?”

“I’ve been watching her lately. I’ve seen her interact with Quinn and Samuel, and I know she’s very close with both of you.”

“Yes, we care for Mia very much, and are very
thankful for the help she’s been with him.”

“I think she would be interested in the job of baby nurse at the castle in Philotheum.”

“You would be open to something like that? You’ve trained her here –
raised
her here, really. The girls are still little…”

“Your father and I are extremely grateful for the service that Mia and her entire family have provided to us for many cycles. She grew up here as a wonderful help – one of the best natural baby nurses I’ve ever seen. It’s been a pleasure to train her and watch her grow. But we don’t own her. And she still works under her mother here. It would be a tremendous honor for her to be offered a job as th
e head nurse in Philotheum. An honor I think she is deserving of and prepared for. Although that, of course, would be Quinn’s decision and yours.”

“I think we’d be hard pressed to do better.”

“I agree.”

“It’s actually something we’ve thought about. Owen even said something the other day … he had a dream. He told Quinn and Linnea that
Samuel himself was trying to convince us that Mia was supposed to be his baby nurse.”

She chortled. “I think he might be right. Your father had quite a si
milar dream the other night.”

“We just didn’t know what you might think about it. We didn’t even know how to approach you with the idea.”

“That’s why your father and I decided that I should be the one to bring it up to you.”

“I don’t even know if
Mia
would be open to the idea, though. That’s asking a lot of her. To leave her family, and her home for such a far-away job.”

“Well, of course you’ll have to discuss it with her, but I suspect she’s more open to it than you’d think. She’s so … there was such an immediate difference in her when you and Quinn returned, William. And when Samuel was born. She’s been asking subtle questions for weeks now that have led both your father and I to suspect that leaving us is on her mind. I think there’s been a lot of everyone thinking the same thing, but everyone being afraid to come right out and ask.”

William nodded, considering that. “She’s afraid to lose the job she has, probably.”

“That. And afraid of sounding impertinent by coming out and asking about the job in Philotheum.”

“And Thomas…” William frowned. “That would crush Thomas. We can’t do that to him.”

“Your father and I talked about that as well – both in the context of Mia possibly going, and even if she doesn’t. What do you think about Thomas going to Philotheum with you?”

“To stay?”

“Yes. To live.”

“He’s underage.”

“That’s hardly a fair standard to hold him to, William. He’s earned far more than that. Your father and I have no intention of withholding the recognition he very much deserves.”

“You’re talking about losing three of your children to Philotheum.”

“Four, counting Quinn – and we do count her. But we don’t consider it a loss. It’s difficult on us, of course, having you so far away, but
you weren’t ours to begin with, not really. You all have your own lives, your own choices and destinies. We have to share you all with the rest of the world sometime. I’ll just be grateful that the Maker saw fit to bless us with enough children to keep our hands and our minds occupied here for many more cycles.”