TWENTY-FOUR


The news traveled quickly. From Anoki, Ikona, Dirak, and Ris in the Emerald Valley, south through Arcadia to Kuumic, and east through Tarzak and Sina across the Sea of Baraboo to Mbwebwe, the people listened in horror, then blackballed Johnjay, son of Little Will, no longer of the Town of Miira.

No One stood in the sparse trees at the crest of the Snake Mountains looking far down at the dense, distant expanse of jungle called the Great Muck Swamp. Tarzaka, breathing in gasps and dragging her pack by its strap, stopped several paces behind him, and leaned against the rocky wall of a ledge. She dropped the pack, rested her head against the ledge, and gulped at the air. After a moment, she squinted at their surroundings, then pushed away from the ledge. "We are at the top." She closed her eyes, sank back against the rocky wall, and slid down it until she was seated.

No One turned and walked back toward her. "The Great Muck is huge. I never realized how huge."

Tarzaka placed a hand across her middle and drew up her knees. "Are we to stop here for the night?"

No One looked at the sky, then frowned at the fortune teller.

"We have four hours of daylight left. We can put considerable distance between us and this place before night." He looked toward the swamp. "The sooner we make the swamp, the sooner we can find what we both seek." Tarzaka issued a brief, involuntary moan. No One studied her, then sat down upon the ground. "Is your belly after you again, fortune teller?"

The left side of her mouth drew into a bitter smile. "I have kept up so far, No One."

He glanced at her, then wrapped his arms around his knees. "Is there something you want to say?"

"I do not enjoy having my blood vessels pinched, No One. Therefore, I mind my tongue."

He studied her. "Yet you stay with me." He looked at her harder, seeing her pain for the first time. "What is wrong?"

The fortune teller shook her head, laughed, then winced with pain. "You are alone in your shell. So alone." She laughed again. "I have been groaning behind you for days. For days." She nodded. "And now you notice."

"I did not ask you to come along."

She shook her head, winced, and drew up her knees even further. "It was part of my price." She turned her head and stared at him from beneath her hood. "And you have yet to live up to your part of the bargain."

"I told you that I cannot tell fortunes. I can only see that which is likely to happen." He held out his hands. "Even then there are conditions."

"No One, you can also read minds. And you can move things. I would know how to do these."

No One pushed himself to his feet. "I don't know how to teach these things! Besides, why does a fortune teller need to know how to move objects?"

Tarzaka closed her eyes. "You might need that power soon."

He turned his back on her and stared out over the mountaintops. "Don't speak nonsense. If you are rested, let us be off. If we leave now, we can make the edge of the swamp in two days."

"I cannot move, No One."

He glanced back at her, then shrugged and looked back toward the swamp. "Then I shall leave you behind." He glanced over his shoulder at the fortune teller. "Are you coming?"

"You won't leave me behind, No One. I am your only audience."

He turned slowly, glaring at her, his face contorted in anger.

"What do you mean?" No One walked quickly to the fortune teller's side and shouted down at her. "What do you mean?" He stared at her for a moment, looking for her meaning in images, then staggered back a step as waves of pain assaulted his mind. He squatted next to her. "What can I do?"

Tarzaka shook her head. "Nothing right now. I must rest." Her eyes fluttered open, then closed in pain. "But you must think, No One, about what you must do. If you can pinch a blood vessel, then you can at least move small things. After I have rested, I want you to reach inside me with your mind and find the thing that makes me ill."

"Tarzaka, what if there is nothing I can do?"

"Then there is nothing you can do. But remember, No One, we have a bargain; you must try. Help me down. I must sleep."

No One helped her to lie down and adjusted her pack beneath her head for a pillow. She was on her side, wrapped into a tight ball. He felt the skin of her cheek and found it hot and dry. No One placed his hands upon his own face and found it hot and wet. Wiping his hands on his robe, he stood and began preparing their camp.

As evening's shadows chilled the mountaintop, No One rose from the fire he had built and spread his bullhand's robe over Tarzaka's still form. He tucked the robe around her body, sat next to her, and glanced at his unopened jug of sapwine. Shaking his head, he looked at the woman's face. "What do expect of me, Tarzaka?" he whispered.

Her lips barely moved. "To try."

His breath caught. "I didn't mean to awaken you."

"You didn't." She winced, then let her face relax. "We should begin, No One."

He nervously wet his lips, then pushed the fingers of his right hand through his damp hair. "I still don't know what to do—how I should go about it."

"No One, you said that you can see what may happen; that your image of what is to be is the clearer the more you know."

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes. But about this, I know so little."

"Then you must learn more." She pushed herself up upon an elbow. "Help me to my back, No One, then begin."

"Begin? Begin what?"

"Begin to learn. Reach inside me with your mind and learn."

He rose to his knees and helped the fortune teller to her back. Once there, she began to stretch out her legs, then quickly drew them back as she issued a cry. "It... it hurts too much to lower my knees." She nodded. "Begin."

No One swallowed, wiped his face with his hands, then concentrated on Tarzaka's middle as he dried his hands upon his robe. Waves of pain washed over him, and he forced himself to blot it from his mind. Sensation by sensation, the sounds of the wind, the fire, the fortune teller's breathing, the beating of his own heart; he shut them out. The feeling of the rough soil beneath his knees, the wetness trickling down his back, the chill of the coming night; he shut them out. The taste of his own saliva, the smell of the burning wood, all thought of life, exile, and revenge; he shut them out, leaving only the fingers of his mind.

He moved those fingers forward until they reached Tarzaka's hot, rigid skin. "Deeper," he whispered. "Deeper." Heat. Wet heat. Slippery wet heat. The fortune teller moaned, and he quickly withdrew. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Again he wiped his face. "I cannot do this."

Tarzaka breathed deeply several times, then she nodded. "You must. Continue and use my cries for information. You must learn if you would see how to cure me. Go ahead."

No One dried his hands upon his robe, then again shut his mind to all but the fingers of his mind. The fingers again entered the fortune teller's body, and again she moaned. He moved the fingers gently to the left, gently up, gently down. Breathing heavily, he pressed the fingers deeper. Tarzaka moaned. "Do you feel them?"

"Yes. It is strange."

"Am I closer to the pain?"

"I cannot tell, No One. Everything hurts so."

No One wet his lips, nodded, then drew his fingers back slightly through the slippery wetness. He moved the fingers slightly to the right, and Tarzaka screamed. He started to withdraw but forced his fingers to remain in place. "Tarzaka. I see this much. This will hurt."

She snickered. "And you say you cannot tell fortunes."

"Quiet."

He moved the fingers first in one direction, then the next, trying to feel the outlines of the hardness beneath his touch. Tarzaka cried out loud several times. No One shook the cries from his mind and made his fingers travel around the object. They met resistance. He searched again, feeling the object sharply bending in upon itself. Mange, Butterfingers, and their students in Candyjane Miira's horse barn, the dead animal on its back on the barn floor, it's stiff legs straight up, held by ropes. The students were laughing at Surenuff, one of the students, as he ran outside to empty his stomach. The belly of the horse was open, and Johnjay watched as Mange helped Mortify pull out the great shining coils of intestines.

No One felt the coils and loops again and again, registering the shapes, the textures, the cries of the fortune teller. At a place on one of the coils, he wrapped his fingers around and squeezed. He felt the walls of the tube collapse until his fingers pressed against each other. "Does that hurt, Tarzaka?"

"No. I can feel it, but it doesn't hurt."

He nodded, then moved his fingers and squeezed again. "Now?"

"No."

He moved his fingers, squeezed, and met resistance as the fortune teller screamed and drew up her knees closer to her chest. He released the pressure on the coil, but kept his fingers in place. "Tarzaka. Your knees. Why did you draw them up?"

She gasped at the air. "It lessens the pain."

He moved his fingers along the coil until he met resistance. He frowned, then held his breath as he forced his fingers between the coil and the resistance. Again the fortune teller screamed. "Stretch out your legs."

"I cannot! The pain!"

"Stretch them out!"

The fortune teller cried out, then began lowering her knees. No One felt the pinch against his fingers just as she screamed and brought up her knees again. With her knees up, the pressure against his fingers was reduced. With an effort, he withdrew his fingers, then began feeling the outlines of the resistance.

"No One, what is it?"

"I am not certain. There is a loop of gut here. And it seems that there is... yes! Another loop of gut around the first!" He opened his eyes and looked at Tarzaka. "It is almost as though your gut is tied into a knot. It winds tightly about itself and it tightens when your legs straighten out. It loosens when you draw up your knees." He shook his head. "What do I do now?"

"Untie it."

Again he shook his head. "I cannot. I don't have the strength."

Tarzaka reached out a hand and placed it upon No One's arm. "You must try. That was our bargain."

No One swallowed, shook his head, and swallowed again. "Even if I could, what would happen? Would your gut be like that if it wasn't supposed to be like that? What if I injured something, or released some terrible poison? I just don't know." He waved his hand at her middle. "The loop at the point within the twist—it is very hard. It is full of something."

"That is what is making me sick."

He nodded. "Yes, but it also makes the gut stiff..." No One pursed his lips as he studied his memory. "Perhaps."

"What is it?"

He rose on his knees until he hovered over her. "Stretch out your legs as far as you can." Gingerly, she lowered her knees until she cried out. No One sucked in and bit his upper lip as he closed his eyes and made his fingers enter the fortune teller's body. More rapidly this time, he located the loop. Keeping his fingers in the same area, he felt around the location. He felt more loops, a hardness. "Where is that?"

"It is deep—I don't know—a bone? Yes. The top of my hip."

He nodded and drew the fingers forward and up. He reached out his left hand, put it beneath the robe that covered the fortune teller, then moved the fingers of his hand between the folds of her robe until his fingers rested on Tarzaka's hot, rigid skin. He placed his hand, fingers extended, flat upon her belly. He took a deep breath, then tried to press the fingers of his mind against his hand through the fortune teller's skin. He grunted with the exertion, but felt a tiny pressure against the heel of his palm. Moving his hand until his fingers were where the heel of his hand had been, he pressed again. The pressure went against his index finger. "The fingers of my mind—so tiny. Didn't realize."

"Perhaps you should rest, No One."

He shook his head. "No." He breathed heavily for a few moments, then opened his eyes and looked at her. "When I tell you to, raise your knees toward your breast as far as you can. Understand?"

"Yes."

Again he closed his eyes. He grunted as he again checked the position of the pressure against his index finger. With the fingers of his mind, he reached toward the loop and located it immediately beneath the fingers of his hand. His mind-fingers felt their way along the loop until they came to where the gut looped and crossed itself. The position of the knot was left, and he moved to the draw end of the slip knot. Carefully he wrapped the fingers of his mind around the gut and took several deep breaths.

He nodded. "Now."

Tarzaka drew up her knees, trapping No One's left hand between her thighs and belly. No One set his jaw, grimaced, and pulled. They both screamed. "Your knees! Draw them up farther!"

"I... can't—" Again she screamed.

No One felt the gut loosen, then move slightly, then stop as the fortune teller's legs slumped to the ground. "Tarzaka!" He looked at her face to find her unconscious. "By damn, woman! Wake up!" His breath came hard. No One paused for a moment, then reached down with his right hand and placed it beneath the fortune teller's knees, keeping his left hand in place. He lifted her knees toward her breast, bent over, then placed the weight of his chest upon her knees.

The fingers of his mind renewed their grip, and pulled again. "Almost... almost." He eased off, took several breaths, then pulled again, pressing down against her belly with his left index finger with all of his strength. His words came out in strained gasps. "Now!... Move, damn you, move..." The veins stood out on his neck and temples, his face became bright red. "... Moving. Moving!" He screamed with the effort, and screamed again. Before the echoes of his last scream died, No One was face down in the dirt, unconscious.

It swims. It all swims. My feet flying over my head; the world in chaos... What is it down there. Mother. Mother! It's me! It's me, Mother! Johnjay!

... until the last bull dies. They were silent as he walked from the ring. Silent! Damn their silence! Damn them their bulls! Damn them Reg! Reg! Reg!...

His eyes opened to find himself looking up at a clear sky colored with evening's dying orange. No One tried to sit, but he winced with the effort. "I feel as if I had been whipped with bull chains."

"No One?"

He pushed himself to a sitting position and looked at the fortune teller. She was on her side, facing him. No One cocked his head to one side. "Well? How are you feeling?"

"Pain. But different pain; good pain."

No One again looked at the sky. "A day. We have lost an entire day."

"Two days. You slept all through yesterday and last night."

He pushed himself to his feet, letting an involuntary groan escape from his lips. He moved to the site of the campfire, squatted down, and spread the fingers of his right hand above the bed of ashes. He nodded. "Umm. It is still hot." He blew at the ashes, exposing a few glowing coals, then he picked up a twig and gathered the coals together. He added twigs and sticks, blew air at the coals, and in moments the flames lit his face as they crackled the wood. No One glanced around, located the jug of sapwine, and picked it up. He drank deeply, letting the liquid ease his aching head and muscles. He drank again, then sat next to the fire.

Tarzaka got up, moved next to the fire, and sat down across it from No One. "Upon what are you thinking?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." His hand held up the jug. "A friend of mine from Miira—" He paused, then lowered the jug, shaking his head. "—a former friend. He calls this medicine." No One felt the tears tempting his eyes. "He is called Mortify, and he is an apprentice to old Mange." No One drank again.

"Mortify is no longer your friend?"

The jug came down. "I have no friends! Those I thought to be friends abandoned me before the town." He stabbed a finger at his chest. "Not one spoke for me. Not one offered me aid. Friends, bah!" He drank again, then stretched out his legs. "Ah, the aches ease. I never believed I could be so exhausted."

The fortune teller nodded. "It took much from you, No One." She reached into No One's pack and withdrew a wrap of cobit dough, then began shaping the cakes. She kept her gaze upon the cobit cakes as she spoke again. "You killed five bulls. Can any friendship be expected to withstand such a crime?"

No One looked down at the flames, "They killed my sister. I was right to do what I did."

"And what would your sister think of your deed, No One?" The fortune teller looked up at him. "If you could ask her now, what would she say to you?"

No One's eyes widened with horror, then he stood and flung the sapwine jug behind him—where it shattered upon the rocks. "Damn you!" He held his fingers to his temples as his face twisted with unshed tears. "Damn you," he whispered. The hands came down and he turned from the fire. "Gather your things. We leave now."

"It is almost night."

"Gather your things!" He stooped, picked up his pack, and went to where Tarzaka had been sleeping. Bending over, he retrieved his bullhand's robe and stuffed it into his pack.

The fortune teller called to him. "We both need to rest No One."

He slung the pack over his shoulder, then glanced at her. "If you are going with me, hurry." He walked into the growing darkness toward the mountain slope that would bring them down to the Great Muck Swamp.

Tarzaka quickly assembled her kit, shouldered it, then stumbled off into the dark after No One.

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