one of the lawn clippers. She was ugly for an Avven woman and he had sent her out to work in the garden so he didn’t have to look at her.
“Master,” she panted. “There is a monster in the pool house!”
He sighed. “Yes. I put it there.”
She bit her lip. “Oh. It appears to be dead.”
“Dead?” He straightened in alarm.
She nodded.
Cursing in his native Genrian tongue, he strode past her out of the warehouse and hurried toward the gardens. The pool house was at the center of a large lawn. The lawn clippers had gathered in a crowd around the entrance.
“Get back to work!” he ordered.
They turned to stare at him, then scattered. As he reached the gate of the house he drew out the key to the lock. Inside, he could see the youngling sea creature lying on the floor.
He hadn’t had much time to examine his purchase closely last night. The raider had claimed it was a girl child, but the only evidence of that was the lack of male organs. Devlein had ordered his servants to remove the dirty rags that had hung off the creature’s shoulders. Looking her over, he decided the raider was right, and wondered if she’d develop breasts like humans.
Perhaps, when she was mature, he would purchase a male. If they produced offspring he could sell their young for a fortune.
The lock clicked. He pushed the gate open and walked over to the creature. Why had she climbed out of the water? Crouching down, he saw that she was still breathing.
The more he looked at her, the more concerned he grew.
Her breathing was labored. Her skin was dull and cracked. If she had been human, he would have said she was dangerously thin. She also smelled foul. All animals smelled bad and he had assumed that the reek was natural, but now he wasn’t so sure.
He took her chin and turned her head so he could examine her face. At the touch her eyes fluttered open, then closed again. She gave a faint moan.
I paid a lot of money for her. He rose and stared down at her. If she’s sick I need to find someone to cure her. Who will know what’s wrong? I could bring in an animal healer, but I doubt they’ve ever seen one of the sea people before. I doubt anyone has. Unless…
He smiled as he realized there were people in Glymma who might know about the sea people. Turning away, he quickly locked the gate and hurried toward the house, shouting for a messenger.
Mirar lifted a rock. Nothing. He put it down again and lifted another. A creature scurried away. He made a grab for it, but it shot straight into a crack between two much larger and heavier boulders.
Curse it. How does Emerahl catch these shrimmi? If I could just—
“Wilar! Dreamweaver!”
He jumped in surprise and looked up. Tyve was circling above him. Mirar caught a powerful feeling of anxiety and urgency from the boy. Standing up, he shaded his eyes and watched the Siyee land.
“What is it?”
“Sizzi is sick. So are Veece and Ziti. Others are sickening, too. Can you come to the village? Can you help us?”
Mirar frowned. “Did the Speaker send you to me?”
“Yes.”
This was not entirely the truth, if the uneasiness Mirar sensed in Tyve was any indication. He narrowed his eyes at the young Siyee.
“Did he really?”
Tyve shot Mirar a guilty glance. “Not exactly. He is too sick to speak. I suggested to the rest that I ask you for help, since you’re a healer. They agreed.”
This, Mirar sensed, was the truth. He nodded. “I will come. What are the symptoms?”
“You’ll see when you get there,” Tyve said impatiently. “We should leave now, if you’re to arrive before… It’s a long way.”
“Therefore a long way to return to get the right cures,” Mirar pointed out. “I need to know what this illness is so I can pack my bag. Tell me about it.”
Tyve described what he had seen. As he did, Mirar felt his stomach sink. It sounded like a disease called Hearteater which occasionally spread among landwalkers. Most likely a Siyee had caught it during the war and brought it back to the tribe. Mirar hadn’t considered that diseases might be an inevitable consequence of the Siyee mixing with outsiders. He cursed the White silently.
You can’t be sure the White knew this would happen, Leiard reminded him.
But there’s no happiness greater than having someone to blame, Mirar replied.