Forever (27 page)

“Yeah, but that won’t look so good on a grant application. Can you tell me about what it does in the body? Is it blood-borne?”

“It alters the blood.”

“Alters it?”

“Weakens it. The hunger is a result of that. The blood no longer sustains the body as it should. As if it were hollow, suddenly.”

I mused about that. “So the curse might be doing something to the digestive system, too. Well, it must—because they can’t eat normal food any more, right?”

“They can eat it, but it doesn’t satisfy them. They don’t really digest it. Mainly it just makes them uncomfortable.”

“Except for the greens.”

“Yes, they do need greens, but they only want them after feeding.”

Greens contained a lot of iron. Something to do with blood-iron levels? Iron absorption?

Hollow blood.

Blood was “hemo” in Greek, as in hemoglobin.

I pulled out my phone to surf up the Greek for “hollow.” I heard a door close and glanced up to see Manda coming across the
plazuela
.

“I hope you brought your charger,” she said, flopping into a chair next to Madóran.

“I did. You don’t happen to know Greek, do you?”

“Not me. I’m the business kid, remember?”

Len and Caeran came out of the kitchen, hand in hand, reminding me that I hadn’t told Madóran that Len had agreed to one Evennight ceremony.

“What do you need Greek for?” Manda asked.

“We need a scientific name for the curse.”

“Cursus albenius.”

“Mmmm . . . not quite.”

Len looked at Caeran. “You know Greek?”

“No. I’d have thought Madóran would.”

Madóran turned his head to look at me. “What do you wish to say?”

“‘Hollow’, for ‘hollow blood’.”

“‘Koilos’.”

I frowned, trying to extrapolate structure rules from other medical terms. “Hemo-koilos.”

“It would be koilohaemia,” said Madóran.

“That’s a mouthful,” Manda said. “How about ‘Steve’s anemia’?”

“Harrison’s anemia,” Len said. “You use the last name.”

“No, I like koilohaemia,” I said.

“It can be both.”

“As long as I can pronounce one of them,” Manda said. She got up and went into the kitchen.

Madóran looked at me. “So. Now it has a name.”

“Name it, then you can defeat it.” I looked at Caeran. “Good thing we’re getting started on the lab. We don’t want to do any of the research at UNM, or they’ll want control of our results.”

His eyes widened slightly. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We can use them to learn technique—how to use the equipment, how to do the research—but we shouldn’t actually do it there.”

“Get me that list of the equipment you’ll need.”

“I will.”

“A man of many ideas,” Madóran murmured, smiling.

Caeran and Len continued down the
portal
and went through a door in the west wall, and I saw that Lomen had been behind them, leaning against the wall. My heart did a little happy bounce at seeing him. He smiled.

“You talked to Len,” Madóran said.

“Yeah. She’s OK with just having one ceremony.” I had a thought and sat up straighter. “Hey, would you mind introducing me to Mirali?”

“You will meet her at the celebration.”

“What if she doesn’t come? I’d like to meet her ahead of time, if you don’t mind. I bet the prospect of a human stranger at the party just adds to her discomfort.”

“We could walk over to the new house, certainly. I cannot promise that Mirali will agree to see you. She is . . . somewhat prejudiced against humans, I fear.”

Given what we were doing to the planet, I could hardly blame her.

“Well, I’d like to meet her and admire the baby. Is now a good time?”

Madóran shrugged. “As good as any.”

“May I come along?” Lomen asked.

“Fine by me,” I said.

“Of course,” Madóran said, rising.

We went along the south
portal
to a utility room from which a side door opened onto a lush vegetable garden. It was half an acre at least, and well-tended.

“Wow. Nice!”

Madóran smiled. “I enjoy gardening, and of course food one grows oneself always tastes best.”

He led the way past the garden and through a large orchard—mostly apples, from what I could tell. We walked through dappled shade, with the smell of the fruit rising around us.

“Don’t tell me you come close to eating this many apples.”

He laughed. “Oh, no. I let neighbors pick the fruit and keep most of the harvest as their payment.”

It was peaceful, walking with these two men I admired—no, loved. I loved them both. I didn’t care if they picked up on that thought. It was true.

Despite the fear and havoc created by the alben, despite the tension of needing to find a cure for koilohaemia (preferably yesterday), I felt more fulfilled and more at peace than I ever remembered feeling before. I had found not just one person, but a whole family who respected me for who I was, and who valued me. It was as if I had finally found my true home.

The apples gave way to a field of raspberries. They were mostly done, but a few late berries clung under the leaves. Madóran invited me to eat as many as I liked, so I grabbed the ones I spotted—warm from the sunshine, sweet and tart on the tongue—and shared them with Lomen as we passed between rows of bushes. Beyond was another orchard, this one not bearing fruit at the moment. The leaves looked a little like peaches, if I was remembering right.

A house came into view: single-story adobe, small, with a wing still under construction. Similar in style to Madóran’s hacienda, with all possibility of eventually getting that big. For now, it was just a modest house.

Some tall cottonwoods stood west of it, shading it from behind. I heard running water; there was a river back there among the trees.

Madóran stepped onto the
portal
and knocked on the front door. After a longish pause, it was opened by a male ælven, plainly one of Caeran’s kin by his brown hair and green eyes. He shot me an unsettled look, then turned a questioning gaze on Madóran.

“Greetings, Nathrin.” Madóran gestured to me. “I have a guest, Steven Harrison, who would like to meet Mirali.”

I bowed slightly, the way I’d seen Lomen do. Nathrin sized me up with a longer look, then answered.

“I will find out if she is comfortable receiving visitors. May I ask you to wait?”

Madóran nodded, and Nathrin closed the door. I traded a glance with Lomen.

Don’t mind Nathrin. They are still afraid.

Still?

Since we journeyed here. It was a difficult time. Mirali was very ill and we feared we would lose both her and her child.

Well, I’m glad that didn’t happen.

Madóran strode a few steps away, along the
portal
. I looked at Lomen.

Did I say something to make him mad?

He is giving us privacy, I believe. He knows we are talking.

Can’t he hear us?

Mindspeech between ælven is quite rare.

I gazed after Madóran, suddenly feeling bad. I’d assumed the ælven could all talk with each other this way.

We learn instinctively to shield our thoughts long before we can talk. It is a habit few of us can overcome.

Except with humans.

Most humans do not know how to shield. Your thoughts are open, and we can answer if we choose.

Why doesn’t your shield interfere with that?

I believe it is because your khi does not trigger our defensive reflexes. We can influence you through khi, and that includes being able to converse with you.

I couldn’t help the shiver that went through me. Yeah, I’d been influenced pretty hard.

Speaking of shielding, you might want to do so now. It would be polite to Mirali and Nathrin if you kept your thoughts quiet.

I promptly shielded, then walked after Madóran.

“Lomen tells me you couldn’t hear our conversation. I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “No need to apologize.”

The door opened again. Madóran returned to it and I followed.

“You may come in,” Nathrin told us.

I brought up the rear, shielding my thoughts again for good measure. The house was simply furnished, though there were Madóran touches here and there: a carved door, a low table, and in the room where Mirali awaited us, a pottery urn and mug on a tale beside her.

She looked up, green eyes wide and defiant. It was the first time I had seen Caeran’s features on a female. I had expected small and frail, but she was majestic, nearly the same size as her partner.

She had her baby in her arms, and had apparently recently been feeding it. A blue and green shawl draped her shoulders. The baby was wrapped in similar colors, so that its pale face glowed against the darker tones.

“Mirali,” said Madóran, bowing. “I am glad to see you looking well. May I introduce Steven Harrison? He is a new friend of ours.”

I bowed to her. “I am honored to meet you.”

She shot Madóran a glance that looked like annoyance to me, then put on a tolerant smile. “Hello.”

“Congratulations on your beautiful baby,” I said. “Is it a girl?”

She nodded, and her eyes softened a bit. “Her name is Nathrali.”

A girl. Good for the clan’s future.

“May you grow strong and wise, Nathrali,” I said softly.

The baby opened her eyes and looked straight at me. I was surprised. Not that I was an expert, but I thought newborns didn’t learn to focus like that for a while. But that was humans; aelven might be different.

I smiled at her. She stared back for a minute, then turned and burrowed against her mother’s chest.

“Evennight will be her first celebration with the clan, right?” I said. “Same for me.”

Mirali’s eyes narrowed. She looked as if she were thinking of what to say.

“Yes,” Nathrin said.

Mirali looked at him. I could have sworn they were talking in mindspeech.

“I doubt we will be there,” Mirali said.

“Because Savhoran and Pirian are here?” I said. Madóran shifted beside me; I paid no attention. “You know, just being in a room with them won’t endanger you or Nathrali.”

“You cannot know that.”

“Madóran tells me the disease is blood-borne, and probably only transmitted through contact with bodily fluids.”

She looked at Madóran. He nodded.

“That is my belief.”

“We’re going to find a cure,” I said brashly.

She tilted her head back. “Before the ceremony?”

“Of course not. You’re right, it will take years, but we will find one. Before Nathrali is grown up,” I said, again taking a risk.

“A laudable goal,” Mirali said. Her tone told me she didn’t buy it.

“Look, come to the ceremony. You can stand on one side, and Savhoran and Pirian on the opposite. Fair enough?”

Her gaze shifted from me to Madóran. “One wonders why a human concerns himself so with our customs.”

“His concern is for our well-being, Mirali.”

“How refreshing.”

“My concern is for your survival. All of you.” I glanced at Nathrin. “Your best chance is if you stay together.”

Nathrin said nothing, but a fleeting smile of exasperation crossed his face. Aha! He had been arguing the same thing.

“You see, until a couple of weeks ago I didn’t know the ælven existed,” I went on. “You’re a miracle to me. I want you to survive, to prosper. I’ll do what I can to help.”

“Steven has committed his life to curing the curse,” Lomen said.

Mirali’s eyes widened. “Why would you do this for us? You say you knew nothing of us a short while ago.”

“I …” I shrugged. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever found.” I glanced at Madóran, hoping I wasn’t sticking my foot in my mouth. “I want to be around you as much as I can. All of you.”

“All of us?” Mirali said quietly. “Even Pirian?”

Had she lifted that from my thoughts? But I had shielded. Maybe she just counted on my being afraid of him. Well, I was, but it was more complicated than that.

“Pirian is struggling to figure out which way to go,” I said. “I know what that’s like. If I can help him, I will.”

She gazed at me, then at her partner. I shot another glance at Madóran. He smiled, then gave a tiny nod toward the door.

“Thank you for allowing me to visit. I hope to see you again soon,” I said, backing away.

Mirali watched me go, her green eyes thoughtful. Nathrin showed us out, and as I passed him in the doorway he offered his hand.

“Thank you for visiting.”

The ælven didn’t shake hands much; I knew he was honoring me. I grasped his hand briefly and smiled.

“I’m glad I got to meet you.”

He nodded. “We will meet again.”

Nathrin turned to Madóran and said something in ælven. Madóran answered briefly, then we walked back toward the hacienda.

That brief exchange in ælven had made me realize that they had all spoken English for my sake during the visit, even Mirali. That little courtesy made me feel self-conscious; I’d required them to speak in a foreign language. I hadn’t meant to impose on them in such a way.

“You did well, Steven,” Madóran said.

“Hope I didn’t say anything stupid.”

“No. I think you impressed them.”

“And Mirali is difficult to impress,” said Lomen, grinning.

As we walked back, I found myself thinking about Pirian. Not that I wanted to—I’d rather have nothing to do with him—but what I’d told Mirali was true. I knew what it was like to have to decide between two cultures, two ways of life. He hadn’t volunteered for the curse. He was facing a tough choice: commit to Ebonwatch and follow the creed, or go alben and be alone. Either way he had to give something up.

We got back to the hacienda and Madóran paused at the veggie garden to pick some stuff for dinner. I offered to help, with the caveat that I couldn’t tell a carrot from a turnip. Madóran laughed.

“How would you like to carry the basket?”

He got a big wicker basket and a broad-brimmed straw hat for me from the utility room. Lomen excused himself, saying he wanted to study. I watched him go into the hacienda.

“Not a gardener, either?”

“He is competent, but I think it holds no passion for him.”

I followed Madóran around as he pulled things out of the ground and clipped green stuff. He showed me how to pull carrots, and how to rescue them when I broke off the tops. The joy he took in his garden was contagious. I found myself smiling as I coaxed a fat carrot out of the ground.