Island of Graves (14 page)

In the darkest hour of the night, Henry came up to check on Carina. “I brought you some water,” he said, handing a cup to Alex.

“Thanks,” Alex said. He took it and looked wearily at Carina as Henry checked her over. “How is she?”

Henry was quiet for a long moment as he assessed his patient. “She's doing better,” he said after a while. “She'll be okay.”

Alex let out a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I'm so glad,” he managed to choke out, relieved beyond measure.

Henry paused to watch the mage for a moment. He glanced across the room at his sister, who was watching too. Lani frowned and looked away, then leaned forward in her chair and rested her head on Samheed's bed.

Henry had heard the whole story by now from Lani. He'd never seen her and Samheed so angry with Alex before. Or with anyone, for that matter. It was disconcerting. Henry decided that as a healer, he had to stay neutral. And he was as loyal to Alex as he was to his sister after all they'd been through.

“How's Samheed?” Alex asked after a while.

“He's fine,” Henry said. “We have good medicine to heal burns now. He can leave in the morning if he wants to.”

“That's good.”

“The high priest has some pretty powerful spells, though, doesn't she?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, they're awful.”

“I'll make sure we have lots of the burn medicine on hand for the future.”

“That's a good plan,” Alex said. “And something for the ice spears.”

“We can handle those injuries too, if we get to them in time.”

Alex nodded. “We didn't know . . . ,” he began, trying to explain. “Carina didn't say anything about how bad it was.”

Henry smiled. “I believe that.”

Alex studied the boy. “You're really meant for this, Henry. You're an excellent healer.”

Henry's smile faded, and he turned back to Carina, straightening her blankets. “Not quite good enough, though,” he said.

Alex was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Henry didn't look at him. “I should have saved Meghan.”

Alex sat up. “Henry, don't do that to yourself. General Blair killed her. It was too late. Nobody could have saved her. Not even Mr. Today.”

Henry paused in his work and said nothing. After a moment his fingers brushed against the tin box that had become a permanent fixture in his component vest. He glanced at Lani and Samheed, now asleep, and then at the mage. “Alex?” he said.

Alex looked up. “Yes?”

“Can I tell you something?”

Alex nodded solemnly. “Yes, Henry. Anything.”

Henry looked away, his heart pounding as he remembered Ishibashi's words. He must tell no one about the powers of the magical seaweed. But surely he could tell Alex. Alex could help him decide when to use it, so that Henry didn't have to make that awful decision himself.

“Consent,”
Ishibashi had said. Giving the seaweed to save someone wasn't Henry's decision, or Alex's. It was the decision of the person who needed it, once they fully understood the consequences. If they didn't say yes, then Henry could not administer it.

Alex touched Henry's sleeve. “What is it?”

Henry looked at Alex for a long moment, then said, “If you were dying and someone had medicine that would heal you and keep you alive, perhaps forever, would you take it?”

Alex stared at Henry, and then, realizing Henry was completely serious, he thought about it for a long time.

Henry watched him think.

Many minutes went by. About the time Henry feared Alex had drifted off to sleep, Alex looked up and met Henry's gaze. The mage shook his head. “No, Henry,” he said. “I wouldn't take that medicine.”

Henry stared at Alex, a most intense look on his face. “Are you sure?”

Alex nodded. “I'm one hundred percent sure.”

Henry sucked in a breath and let it out, and then he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Thanks. Good to know.” He turned
to Carina, and then glanced back at Alex. “If you ever change your mind, will you let me know?”

Alex tried not to laugh. “Yes, I will.”

Seemingly satisfied, Henry turned again to Carina and fussed over her for a moment, then excused himself.

Alex watched him go, completely puzzled. After a time, his eyelids drooped, and he rested back against his chair and slept.

W
hen Aaron woke up the next morning to the most heavenly smells, he wasn't quite sure what to do. After a long night of dreams in which Ishibashi was constantly taking food away from him, Aaron was more exhausted than ever. He rolled over and glanced at the little table, noticing that someone had put a pitcher of water there. Did that mean water was all he would get today? Why wasn't Ishibashi explaining anything to him? Aaron had no idea what the man wanted of him, and he was tired of trying to figure it out.

After a while, with his stomach bucking in hunger, Aaron
got up and slowly made his way to the room that had the fire, where the old men were just sitting down to eat breakfast. Aaron's mouth watered at the sight of the food, and there was a steaming bowl and cup set up for him just like last night. He couldn't mess this up today.

He stood in the entry area to the large room and waited for the oldest one to notice him. After several minutes, with Aaron standing painfully still, Ito finally looked up and said something that sounded a little less gruff than the night before.
“Douzo tabete.” You may as well eat.

Aaron glanced at Ishibashi, who didn't look at him, but seemed to nod just slightly, giving Aaron the courage to approach the fire and the cushion on the floor. He eased his way to the floor, noticing that he ached a bit less today than he had before. He looked at the bowl. It was filled with a little broth and some sort of grain, a variety of vegetables, and seafood. It seemed a very hearty meal, though totally foreign to Aaron. He glanced at the tea, which was familiar, and then watched what Ishibashi and the other two were doing.

He started with the tea, which was twice as bitter as it had been before, and he struggled not to choke on it. He drank it
slowly, feeling the bitterness practically scraping the insides of his throat, all the way to his stomach. When he was finished, he set the cup down gently, and without daring to look anywhere but at the food in front of him, he picked up the bowl in one hand. Holding it close to his mouth, he wrapped his fist around the stick utensils and dug them into the food, trying to get a little bit of it to stay on. He lifted the sticks carefully to his mouth, ignoring the pain that stabbed through his shoulder. And with his hand shaking, he dumped the scant contents into his mouth.

The deep flavor of the food wrapped around his tongue and made his eyes roll back in pleasure. He dug the utensils into the food again, trying to get as much of the unfamiliar, delicious bits to stay on as possible, and then he poured the food into his mouth and almost swallowed it whole, wanting to taste it but not wanting to waste any time getting the food into his stomach.

Bite after awkward bite, Aaron ate as quickly as he could, always trying to remember not to speak or do anything to make Ishibashi mad. When he had devoured the last of the food and had poured the remaining broth down his throat, he
was tempted to lick the bowl, but something told him that was taking things a bit too far. Instead, he set his bowl on the floor gently and clasped his hands in his lap.

His stomach bulged and finally stopped complaining. Aaron stared at the fire, not sure what he was supposed to do now, but even if Ishibashi yelled at him again, at least he'd eaten. The throbbing in his head began to subside a little bit, which was a welcome relief.

“Would you like more tea?” Ishibashi said, startling Aaron.

Aaron looked up, not sure what the right answer was. “Yes?” he said.

Ishibashi's eyebrows snapped together into a frown, causing Aaron to panic.

“Yes, please,” the boy whispered, hoping that would help. When it seemed to calm the lines in Ishibashi's forehead, Aaron relaxed slightly and noted that maybe he should say please again in the future.

As Ishibashi lifted the teapot, Aaron realized he was to hold his teacup so Ishibashi could pour the liquid in. Silly, really, all the things Aaron didn't know about dining with people who weren't waiting on him.

When Ishibashi was finished pouring, he stared at Aaron.

Aaron froze, the teacup halfway to his mouth.
Now what?
“Thank you?” Aaron whispered.

Ishibashi seemed satisfied. “You're welcome,” he said. “How did you find your breakfast? Ito was our chef this morning.”

Aaron looked at Ito, scared to death. “Delicious,” he whispered.

No one yelled at him.

When it seemed there were no more questions, Aaron took a sip from the cup. This tea tasted surprisingly sweet, and he found when he drank it, some of the achiness in his muscles began to disappear.

Soon the three men were finished eating. They stood up, and Aaron got to his feet too, trying not to black out. He felt much stronger after the meal than he had before it, thankfully. The men exited the room with their bowls and cups, leaving Aaron standing there alone. Was he supposed to take his own dirty dishes away?
How disgusting.
A moment later, he sighed, picked up his bowl and cup, and followed them, finding himself in a kitchen.

He observed as first Ito, then Sato, then Ishibashi washed out their bowls and cups, dried them on a towel, and set them on a shelf. Aaron, who had only rarely washed dishes when he was living with his parents, watched very carefully to make sure he was doing it right.

Finally, when his dishes were dried and put away next to the others, and Ito and Sato had left the kitchen and gone outside, Ishibashi spoke. “It is the hour of calm. We have work to do. Tomorrow you will help. Today is your last day to rest.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ishibashi left the room and disappeared outside.

Aaron, exhausted both in mind and body, found his way back to his room. And with a happy stomach, fell into a dreamless sleep.

A
aron learned quickly that the only way to get fed was by staying quiet and doing whatever Ishibashi, Ito, and Sato wanted him to do. He managed to eat a second meal that day without getting into trouble. And even though he had moments where all he wanted to do was yell at them to start treating him the way he deserved to be treated, he refrained, because for some reason with these particular people that tactic did not work at all, and it only served to hurt Aaron.

He wasn't a stupid boy. Clearly Wanteds were intelligent, or they wouldn't be sent to university or trusted with Quill's
secrets. And if Aaron had to cater to the strange rules of this island while he lived here, well, so be it. But once he got back home . . .

Home. He hadn't thought much about it, to be honest, which surprised him. He didn't miss anybody. Not really. The jungle animals, maybe. Panther. Oh, Panther—Aaron had made so much progress with her, and now she was probably forgetting everything. He hoped she was all right. Hoped her tail was intact. Hoped the spiders he'd created weren't nuisances to anybody. He was sure Panther would take care of them if they were. He chuckled softly as he pictured it.

Aaron didn't know how he was going to get home, but he shoved that worry way to the back of his mind. All he was concerned about for the imminent future was eating. Hopefully every day.

» » « «

The next morning Aaron sat up and gingerly tested his injured body to see what parts were feeling better and what parts were still hurting. His general body aches from being tossed about and thrown onto the rocks were subsiding. His right shoulder still hurt, but he had limited use of it and his dominant hand
now. His head was still shrouded in a dull throbbing pain, but the swelling around his nose and eyes had gone down. He could feel that the deep cut between his eyebrows was healing, as well as the long slice on his forehead at his hairline.