He had to breathe like he was straining under a great weight, but it did not feel like a great weight. It felt easy and natural.
He looked down. While he hadn’t made the branch, he was high enough to be covered by a large block of leaves.
Light-headedness washed over him. He was panting. Hyperventilating. But he couldn’t stop. He felt dizzy. The world below began to spin. He was going to lose his grip.
Talen closed his eyes. The fat branch above was not so far away. If he could shinny up to it and rest, he was sure the light-headedness would pass.
He reached up, his arms and legs wide, moved his foot, reached up again. Climbing the trunk was as easy as climbing a ladder. In moments, with barely a scrape of sound, he reached the branch. He dared not open his eyes because he knew the dizziness would take him. With a final move, he pulled himself on top of the branch and straddled it. He would have lain on his stomach, but he was panting, straining, laboring for breath. He was suffocating.
The edges of his vision began to blur.
Talen struggled for another breath, but it wasn’t enough. He’d never felt panic like this before. He couldn’t get his breath.
The world slid to the side; Talen’s vision narrowed. He was passing out, and the last thing he thought was that he’d better collapse onto this branch squarely because he didn’t want to fall from this height.
BAKER’S HERBS
T
alen found himself face-first on the branch. He was still straddling it, still panting, but not suffocating like he had been before.
He reached up and felt the wetness on his cheek. He’d bloodied his nose. Bloodied a small circle of the branch for that matter.
The men stood below him. “He’s not here,” one said. “There’s not one leaf that’s bent out of place.”
“Then he jumped out earlier,” said the one who had first commanded Nettle to stop. “Where is he?”
“I told you,” said Nettle. “He’s headed west. They’ve got family out there.”
“Maybe we’ll take you along just to make sure.”
“Have they arrested my father?” asked Nettle.
Talen heard one of the men spit.
A beat passed.
“No, they haven’t,” said Nettle. His voice changed. It rung with confidence. “Perhaps you should know that my family dined with the warlord just last week. Maybe I should pass your names along to him. Put in a good word.” This last he almost hurled at them.
They did not immediately respond to Nettle’s threat.
One finally spoke up. “We’re wasting time here.”
“He’s not telling us something,” said another.
“Interrogate him then. I told you we should have broken up into groups. I’m going back to look for spoor by the gate.”
Saddles and harness creaked below as men mounted up. A horse stamped its foot.
“I’m going to be watching you,” a man said.
“Good,” said Nettle. “Then when it comes to it, we’ll know exactly where to find you.”
The men urged their horses forward with grunts and clicks. Then the horses thudded away.
Talen dared not say a word. Perhaps it was a ruse, one or two of them staying behind.
He waited, the itch to move began building in his limbs again. Or maybe it had never gone away. His breathing had eased, but he was still light-headed.
“Talen,” Nettle called up.
Talen didn’t dare move.
“They’re gone. Talen,” Nettle hissed. “Get your Koramite arse down here. We need to put some distance between us and that pack of turncoats.”
Talen looked at the ground so very far below. How in the world had he gotten so high? “I don’t know how to get down,” he said.
“Jump,” said Nettle. “I’ll catch you.”
Talen smiled. And it was enough to take the edge off his fear. He saw a branch he could let himself down to. Then another and another until he swung down the trunk and shinnied to the ground.
Nettle held a hand to his ear. Blood stained his fingers.
“Did they cut you?”
“You owe me,” said Nettle. He pulled his hand away. The ear was bloody from a slice nearly an inch long.
“Goh!” said Talen. “That’s going to require sewing.”
“Just get into the wagon bed.”
Talen put a hand on the sideboard and sprang over. “We’re not going to be able to take the normal roads home.”
“Brilliant deduction,” said Nettle.
“And there’s something else.” His legs, arms, his whole body itched to move. “I’m not quite right.”
“I’d say,” said Nettle.
“No,” said Talen. “I’m telling you, something inside is very, very wrong.”
It made no sense. There was a Koramite boy in the district