Gallel's Heir

Chapter 17.1: Papers Reveal

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Lianna scratched herself awake. Her skin burned, like with bug bites. Mama would have a salve in her stash that would soothe it until…

Birds and animals chirped outside. It appeared to be dusk, but sunlight peeped in through holes above and around her, and embers smoldered at her side. Bennion’s cottage. They’d been there for days, surviving if not living. She had been sleeping on a spider ridden floor, and her back ached. Canúden stirred next to her. He trembled, moaned. “Dylin…”

Dylin would never be there, would never answer. Lianna threw her arms around him; he clutched her, and she thought she felt his heart beat. His grip loosened when he opened his eyes.

“Lianna,” he said. Hope melted from his eyes. He must have been dreaming of Dylin, and thought Lianna’s touch was something else.

She would be strong for him, even if her lips trembled. He needed that. Being strong didn’t include eating breakfast. “Would you like some water, Canúden?” When he nodded, she stood and brought him a cupful, helping him to sit up. She sprinkled mason root into it to help with his pain. He put the cup to his lips and coughed.

“I can’t drink this, Lianna, you know that.”

Foolish. He was allergic. “What can I put in it instead?” She should know some alternative remedy, but without her mother, she couldn’t think of anything. Harren was probably in the forest looking for food, or checking at the taxidermist again. Canúden refused to move, was incapable of moving, perhaps. Until a few days previously, he passed out whenever he sat up. His escape was impossible.

“I don’t know. Just give me water.”

She drank the mason root concoction herself; maybe it would soothe her skin. She dipped the cup in the water bowl and gave to him. “I’d like to look at the papers again. You’d understand them better than anyone.”

“Papers!” he spat. His look said, I’d rather die than think about anything!

“Oh, come on,” said Lianna. “We’ve got to do something, or we’ll go crazy here. Get off the floor anyway, you’ve got more spots than a pox patient.” He grumbled and scowled, gripping his broken arm, but Lianna pulled him to his feet. Bennion had salve in his cupboard, but it was too dry and cracked to be useful and they didn’t have the oil to reconstitute it. Boiling it softened it, but it hardened as it cooled. “Sit down,” she ordered. He sat, his broken arm hanging in the sling. She unrolled half the papers in front of him, and kept the remainder to study. His cheeks trembled, perhaps from pain, but his eyes squinted over the crumbling page under them.

Lianna lit a taper, which produced a warm, if dim, circle over the weathered table and the weathered words, then sat in the chair they'd gotten from Bennion’s death chamber. They scanned quietly.

Dirt, smudges, and holes obscured all but one word in ten, some of them strange words like Yellel and Mortal One and Tavaris and Taleni. One phrase was clear, “If I could get into… Gallel’s Libr…”

“You’ve seen every book in Gallel’s library,” said Lianna. “What did he think was there?”

Canúden had softened over the past hour of searching, his eyes only hollow, not empty. He scratched absentmindedly at his neck. His voice was a husk. “I don’t know.” It should take longer, but his cheeks already looked sunken.

“Maybe you should eat something,” said Lianna.

“No.” His scowl said, I hope to never eat again. He shook his head then pointed, features softening again. “Here, he talks about someone he met, someone named ‘Tolarus’.” His eyes widened. “Bennion says he’s an Ancestor.”