Wizard

36 Carry On

Robin sat quietly twenty meters from Chris and Valiha and listened to him shouting at the Titanide. Valiha had suggested, shortly after he determined just how bad her injuries were, that they might as well put her out of her misery. Chris had exploded.

Her body grew heavier each minute. Soon she would be one with the rocks and the darkness. It would be a relief. It would mean an end to frustration. She now realized her momentary elation after their escape from Tethys had been a mistake. She would not make it again.

But she could see that Chris wasn't going to make it easy. He still thought there were things they could do. He was coming toward her now, and she felt sure he wanted to make plans.

"Do you know any first aid?" he asked.

"I can put on a Band-Aid."

He grimaced. "That about sums it up for me, too. We're going to have to do more than that, though. I found this." He opened the leather case he carried. Its sides folded out in all directions, lined with pouches and compartments. Metal glinted in the light of his lamp: scalpels, clamps, syringes, needles, all neatly laid out for the amateur surgeon. "One of them must have known how to use this stuff, or they wouldn't have brought it along. Valiha says Hautbois had a lot more. It looks to me like there's enough equipment here to perform minor surgery."

"If you know what you're doing. Does Valiha need surgery?"

Chris looked tortured.

"She needs some kind of sewing up. Both breaks are in the ... what do you call it in a horse? Between the knee and the ankle. I think just one of the bones is broken in her right leg; she can't walk on it anyway. But the left leg is bad. She must have taken most of her weight on that one. Both bones snapped, and one of the edges broke through the skin." He had picked up a slim booklet. "It says here that's a compound fracture, and the problem with it is usually fighting infection. We'll have to set the bones, clean out the wound, and sew it up."

"I don't really want to hear about it. You figure it out, and when you understand it, call me and tell me what you want me to do. I'll do it."

He did not respond for a while. When she looked up, she found him studying her face intently.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

She could not even laugh. She thought of mentioning that they were lost five kilometers underground in the dark with little food and less light and a demented demi-God to the east and west and an injured companion too big to carry to safety even if they could find their way out in the first place, but why spoil his day? Besides, that wasn't what he meant and she knew it and she was certain that he knew it, too, but she wasn't going to talk about it. Not ever.

So she shrugged tiredly and looked away from him.

He continued to look at her for a long time-it was as if she could feel his gaze on her, and how could he not know?-then reached over and put his hand on her knee briefly.

"We'll get through this all right," he said. "We just have to stick together and take care of each other."

"I'm not so sure," she said, but she was thinking that perhaps he didn't know. While she had feared him when she thought he knew, his apparent ignorance prompted a feeling of contempt. Could it be that her vigilance had been in vain? Could no one see through her? She felt her lip curl on the side of her face that was in shadow and quickly put her hand up to cover it. A hot flash of anxiety swept over her, leaving her filmed in sweat. What was happening to her? It did not even hurt. It was easy to sneer, easy to keep her mouth shut. Could the careful structure of honor built over a lifetime be swept away this easily? He was on his feet now, moving away, going back to tend Valiha, and when he was gone, her secret would be safe. There was a low roaring in her ears. Something trickled down her chin. She forced her jaw to loosen and felt a sharp pain as air touched the fresh bite in her lower lip.

"It isn't true!" She had been unable to stop the words, but when he turned and was waiting for her to go on, she had to think of something to say that would make it all as if it had never happened, as if she had never said it wasn't true.

"What isn't true?" he said.

"It isn't... it ... I never said ... you didn't-" Suddenly her stomach felt really awful. She found herself staring stupidly at a clump of hair held in her fist. It was the same color as her own. She was kneeling, and Chris was beside her with his arm around her shoulder.

"Feeling better now?"

"Much better. Up there when there was fire and the things in the sand bite you and you can never see them because they live in the sea came after me and I couldn't get away but I thought of a way nobody will ever know because it happens all the time to me and I can't do anything about it anymore and I don't want to do anything I just want to go away because they bite and you can't see them and that's not fair and I hate them because they live deep deep in the sea."

She allowed him to lead her away. He took her to a level spot and unrolled the sleeping bag and helped her stretch out on it. She stared up at the blank nothing.

He did not know what to do beyond that, so he left her there and returned to Valiha.

Robin heard him approach some time later.

She had not been asleep or even unaware of what had been happening around her. She flexed her fingers and found they moved easily, so she was not having a seizure. Yet she was not existing in any way she was used to. She had heard Valiha groaning, and it had no effect on her. A few times the Titanide had shouted in pain, but Robin was not sure how many times, and the shouts had not been separated by rational amounts of time. She could no longer recall if she had cried or if the weeping was still in the future. She could not explain it and did not try to.

"Do you want to talk some more?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"I'm not sure what you said awhile ago, but it seemed important to you. Do you want to try again?"

"That wasn't a seizure."

"Do you mean you just-"

"You know what I mean."

"While we were pinned down. Back in the desert."

"Yes."

"You really could move? You were faking it? That's what you're saying?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

She waited, but he said nothing. When she looked at him, he was just sitting there, watching. She wished he wouldn't do that. She was determined not to say any more.

"No, that's not what I'm saying," she said at last.

"You could talk," he observed.

"Then you did know! You were just ... why didn't you-" She was sitting up, but his hands were on her, gently pushing her back onto the sleeping bag. She resisted for a moment, then gave in.

"I noticed you could talk," he said reasonably. "I thought it was odd. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, closing her eyes.

"You couldn't, before," he said when she remained silent. "The other times, I mean. You mumbled."

"That's because a seizure affects all my voluntary muscles. That's why I knew when I couldn't move up there, it wasn't one. It was something else." She waited for him to name it since it seemed he had the right to make the accusation, but it looked as if he weren't going to.

"It was fear," she said.

"No!" he said. "You can't mean it!"

She glared at him. "This isn't funny to me."

"Sorry. I get tickled at all the wrong times. Okay, what do you want? I'm astonished, I'm ashamed of you, I never suspected you would turn out to be such a coward, and I'm humiliated that I thought I'd met the perfect, fearless human and now it turns out you're not."

"Will you get the fuck out of here and leave me alone?"

"Not until you've heard the diagnosis of the surgeon-trainee and apprentice psychologist."

"If it's gonna be as funny as your last couple of lines, why don't you save it?"

"Aha! A sign of life."

"Will you go away?"

"Not until you make me. See, a few days ago you would have ripped my guts out for saying any of the things I just said. It disturbs me to see you just lying there and taking it. Somebody has to restore your self-esteem, and I guess it's got to be me."

"Is that your diagnosis?"

"Part of it, I guess. Malignant lack of self-worth and fear of fear. You're phobophobic, Robin."

She was about to laugh or cry and did not want to do either.

"Will you finish what you have to say and leave me alone, please?"

"You're nineteen years old."

"I never denied it."

"What I'm suggesting is that no matter how tough you think you are, thought you were, you haven't been around long enough to be tested in many, many ways. You went into Tethys thinking nothing could terrify you, and you were wrong. You pissed in your pants and threw up and cried like a baby."

"I'll always appreciate you sparing my feelings like this."

"It's about time someone rubbed your nose in it. You've lived with your seizures most of your life and still haven't really faced them."

"I haven't surrendered to them."

"Of course not. But you won't reach an accommodation. You barely admit they exist. You stood watches over important machinery in the Coven, and by doing it, you put your whole world and all your sisters in danger."

"How did you-" She put her hand to her mouth and bit down on her finger until some of the heat of shame had passed.

"You talk in your sleep," he explained. "Robin, they don't allow epileptics to pilot airplanes. It's not fair to the people the airplane might fall on."

She sighed and nodded jerkily.

"I won't argue with you. But what does that have to do with what happened in the desert?"

"Everything, as I see it. You found out something unpleasant about yourself. You got scared, and you froze. And you're dealing with it the same way you've dealt with your seizures, which is not to deal with it at all. I take that back. You cut off your finger. What are you going to cut off now? If you were a man, I'd have a gruesome suggestion, but I don't know what the heroic gland is supposed to be in a woman. Do you have any ideas? I'm learning surgery. Some practice might do me good."

She hated listening to him, wanted nothing more than for him to stop talking and go away. Far, far away. There was tremendous anger in her somewhere, the pressure was building inexorably, and she felt sure that if he did not leave soon, it would explode and she would kill him. Yet she could not even look at him.

"What would you have me do, then?"

"I already said that. Face it. Recognize that it happened and that you're not proud of it and that it might even happen again. It looks like what you're doing now is trying to pretend it didn't happen, and you can't bring that off, so you just lie there and can't do anything. Tell yourself you were a coward-once, in a very bad situation-and go on from there. Then maybe you can start thinking of how to prevent it happening the next time."

"Or have to face the fact I might do the same thing next time."

"There's always that chance."

She had finally managed to look at him. To her surprise, she was no longer angry when she saw his face. There was no mockery in it. She knew that if she asked him to, he would never say another word about it and never tell anyone else. It somehow didn't seem as important as it had.

"You're a great believer in facing things," she said. "I'd rather fight them. It's ... more satisfying." She shrugged. "It's easier."

"In some ways."

"It would be easier to cut off another finger than do what you say."

"I guess I can believe that, too."

"I'll think about it. Will you leave me alone now?"

"I don't think so. I'm going to be ready to set Valiha's legs soon. While I'm reading everything again and getting the equipment ready, you can make us something to eat. There's still a fair amount of food in Valiha's pack. There's water on the other side of that ridge. Take the lantern with you; I've improvised a torch I can use to read by."

She stared at him. "Is that all?"

"No. While you're going for water, you can look for something we can use for splints. Most of the plants I've seen are pretty small and twisted, but there might be something. Say, five or six straight poles about a meter long."

She rubbed her face. She wanted to sleep for a few years and did not really want to wake up.

"Poles, water, dinner. Anything else?"

"Yes. If you know any songs, go sing them to Valiha. She's in a lot of pain, and there's not much to take her mind off it. I'm saving most of the drugs to use when I set the legs and sew up the wounds." He started to leave, then turned back. "And you could pray to whoever it is you pray to. I've never done anything like this before, and I'm sure I'm going to do it badly. I'm terrified."

How easily he says it, she thought.

"I'll help you."