Paragaea (31 page)

The Tannim immediately backed away, stepping back into the circle of Tannim who thronged about the scene. Balam kept in a ready stance, his eyes wary and watchful, while Hieronymus knelt at Spatha's side to check on the extent of her wounds.

“Your woman's wounds are doubtless fatal,” Sebek said to Hieronymus, stepping forward, “and she will not live to see another nightfall. And so the blood debt of Sobek, my own nephew, has been paid.” He turned to Spatha, who lay bleeding into the sandy ground. “The Tannim that you marked will survive, and will carry their scars as a lesson never to underestimate an opponent.” He took a step back, his gaze encompassing the whole company. “You are free to go. But know this. The hospitality of the Tannim is at an end, and if any of you are seen again in the vicinity, our next meeting will not be as cordial.”

Leena and Benu were sent to retrieve the company's articles from the apartments, and by the time they returned, Hieronymus and Balam had constructed a rough stretcher upon which to carry the moaning form of Spatha Sekundus. Kakere, meanwhile, had retrieved his robes from the ground beside the glassed-in case, and dressed himself, the robes now stained faint red by the blood-soaked waters of the tank.

Leena checked her pack while Hieronymus pulled on his boots, and Balam strapped on his harness and secured his pack on his back. The crowd of Tannim had thinned, most of them following Sebek as he carried the lifeless body of his departed nephew away from the scene, but some still lingered on, casting angry glances at the company. If they were not away quickly, there might still be additional bloodshed, despite Sebek's orders to the contrary.

“I'm ready to go as soon as you are,” Leena said impatiently as Hieronymus and Balam positioned themselves at the head and the foot of Spatha's stretcher. As they lifted her slowly into the air, Spatha
coughed, a sick, sputtering sound racking her chest as blood-flecked foam collected at the corners of a mouth twisted in agony. The rough compress of shirts and blankets Benu had wrapped around her ruined shoulder and neck was already soaked through, glistening black with blood in the flickering firelight.

“Let's go,” Balam said urgently.

“You'll get no argument from me.” Hieronymus glanced over at Kakere, who stood now clad in his robes, but with his head and neck bare. The fish man's expression was confused, disoriented, his eyes lingering on the mangled corpse of the dolphin in the tank, and on the bloodstained sand at his feet. “Kakere,” Hieronymus went on gently. “Let's be away from here, shall we?”

Kakere nodded absently, and followed along as Leena led the company out into the humid night, away from the township and into the wilderness.

Once they had journeyed far enough from the township that they felt comfortable stopping for a brief span, the company took the opportunity to check on the full extent of Spatha's injuries. Benu was motioned over to inspect her wounds by firelight, after Hieronymus had lit a fire in a small clearing.

“The news is bad,” Benu said after a few moments, “but not quite so grim as the Tannim leader seemed to believe. Spatha's injuries are fatal, no doubt, but her remaining lifespan can be measured in days, not in hours.”

As he spoke, Spatha seemed to rouse, murmuring through twisted lips. The company gathered around as she slowly opened one eye.

“Not…” the Nonae said, her voice straining. “Not dead…yet.”

Kakere stepped forward, and bent low over Spatha.

“Why?” the Ichthyandaro asked. “Why suffer these wounds for my sake?”

“Because…” Spatha began, before she was cut off by another coughing fit. Pink spittle foamed at the corners of her mouth, but when Kakere began to pull away, she reached out and grabbed the hem of his robe, dragging him back down to her level. “I was…ashamed…not to have acted as thou had done. I know”—she coughed again, her whole body trembling, and her nose began to bleed—“what it is like…to be imprisoned by circumstance, kept apart from…one's own kind.”

Spatha's eyes closed, and her head lolled to one side.

“Is she…?” Kakere said in a reverential voice, looking up at Benu. “Is she…dead?”

“Do you doubt my diagnostic skills so readily?” Benu shook his head. “No, of course she's not dead. I just said she had days left to live. She's just lost consciousness again. No doubt her system is in shock, due to trauma and loss of blood. However, there's little to nothing we can do about her injuries in the wilderness, and we must find some civilization if we're to prevent her inevitable death.”

“We press on to Keir-Leystall,” Hieronymus said, straightening. “As the oracular forest is said to hold all knowledge, perhaps it will know the secret of healing Spatha's wounds.”

Hieronymus looked from one to another of his companions, as if seeking consent or disagreement, but if anyone had a better idea, they kept it to themselves.

The company continued on, leaving behind the mangrove swamps, tidal channels, and alluvial plains of the coastal regions and moving into a lightly forested zone. By midday, though, they'd traveled no more than a few hundred meters, progress made difficult due to the
preponderance of boiling pools of mud scattered through the landscape.

“What is that stench?” Balam said as he lowered Spatha's stretcher to the ground, once they'd found a dry spot to exchange positions. He and Benu stepped away from the stretcher as Hieronymus and Kakere stepped forward to take their shifts.

Leena sniffed the air, and wrinkled her nose in disgust. The air stank of rotten eggs, or flatulence.

“Sulfur, if I'm not mistaken,” Benu answered, “and I'm not. These hot pools of mud must be evidence of volcanic activity, not far below the surface, the bubbling we see the product of escaping volcanic gases.

“Well,
I
think it's disgusting,” Balam said, pinching his nose shut with a thumb and forefinger.

“It could well be worse than disgusting,” Benu said, following Leena as she led the company deeper into the forest. “If the gas levels grow sufficient to drive out the breathable oxygen, the smell of the gases which asphyxiate you will be the least of your concerns.”

They had gone another few kilometers through the burbling pools of mud, and had just passed a small lake of brackish water, when from behind them came a loud popping noise. Balam suddenly stopped short, sniffed the air, and shouted.

“Run!”

Without another word, the jaguar man took to his heels, sprinting up the forest track ahead of them as fast as his legs would carry him.

The company didn't waste any time in discussion, but followed as quickly as they could, Hieronymus and Kakere struggling with the awkward load of the stretcher, Leena sprinting full out, and Benu following at the speed of a brisk walk, taking his time.

Leena chanced a glance back over her shoulder and saw the multiform denizens of the forest racing after them: birds, small lizardlike dinosaurs, and large mice the size of capybaras. Leena raced a few more dozen meters, then glanced back again and saw Benu calmly studying the fallen forms of the small creatures, scattered around him and lying unmoving on the ground.

Dizzy and lightheaded, the company gathered at the shores of a narrow, paved stream. They'd run flat out for several kilometers, and all of them were out of breath. Only Benu had lagged behind, and as they fought to catch their breath, chests burning and leg muscles aching, he casually strolled out of the forest, whistling tunelessly.

“It is nice to see proof that the olfactory capacities of the Sinaa are not overestimated,” Benu said, smiling at Balam, who wheezed on the ground, tongue lolling.

“What…” Hieronymus began, panting. “What was that?”

“A cloud of poisonous gas,” Benu answered simply, kneeling in the dust before them, “issuing from beneath that small lake we passed. If Balam hadn't given us early warning, I'm afraid all of you would have asphyxiated as quickly as the smaller organisms who fell in the cloud's wake. As it was, you were able to keep just ahead of the cloud as it spread and, now that it's been dissipated, you should be in no further danger.”

“You didn't appear to be in any hurry,” Leena said, rubbing her inflamed calf muscles.

“Why should I have been?” Benu answered. “After all,
I
don't have to breathe, now do I?”

The company, once rested, forded the paved stream, and as they continued on, the volcanic pools and small copses of trees gave way to wide plains of stone. It was as if an entire prairie had been paved over in cement, untold millennia before. No blade of grass nor flower nor scrub brush grew here, only the ancient stone rising in slight waves and valleys, broken into archipelagos of shattered rock by the passage of time.

They moved through the desert of stone for two nights and two days, eating and drinking only what they carried in their packs, seeing nothing but gray sky and gray stone ground, until at last, they reached the periphery of the forest of Keir-Leystall.