different whispers, begun to hear that the Psy did this to themselves. Then she’d found that old history book and her suspicions had been confirmed.
“It must’ve been a terrifying experience,” she said, her voice soft in the total darkness. “You lost your whole family?”
“My mother was my custodial parent. I lost her, and a sibling. An elder brother.”
Having turned to face his back, Tazia thought about reaching out and touching him as she might a fellow human in pain, but Stefan was Psy. He rarely initiated any physical contact. She didn’t know much about the process of conditioning a person to be Silent, but logic told her it would fail in the face of constant physical contact.
And she didn’t want him to feel any more pain, this extraordinary man who helped others even when providing that help pushed him back into memories of the most heartbreaking loss. Her eyes burned. Four years old. His grief and confusion would’ve been incalculable.
So she kept her distance, said, “I’m sorry for your hurt.”
He didn’t answer, and she didn’t force herself any deeper into him. But that night, she slept with an ear open for Stefan’s breathing, and when he stopped again, she said, “Stefan,” until he snapped out of it.
They didn’t speak otherwise.
Chapter 5
It was two days later, all known survivors rescued, that the villagers began the cleanup operation. Tazia continued to fix anything and everything she could. Stefan, meanwhile, was needed as much as he’d ever been, the large structures that had collapsed impossible to shift otherwise. Heavy equipment was coming, but the roads to the village were treacherous, and several trucks had already broken down.
The good news was that the water tankers had arrived on schedule. “There’s more than enough drinking water, especially since it looks like the well will be fully operational soon,” she told Stefan late that afternoon, after he stopped working before nightfall for once.
The only reason he’d stopped was because a piece of debris had fallen on him, causing significant bruising to his torso. He’d have been out there minutes afterward regardless, but thankfully one of the volunteer medics had told him to rest and keep his muscles from stiffening up, or he’d be useless the next day.
“Good,” he said, doing a stretch as they stood outside their tent; his wince broke through the normal lack of expression on his face.
“Stop it,” she muttered, glaring at him. “It’s a bruise, needs a cold pack on it.” Except, with power at a premium, no one was using it to make ice, much less chill cold packs.
“Heat may do as well.” Stefan glanced at the sun-warmed sand that surrounded them. “I could bury myself for a short period.”
Shaking her head, she said, “Scorpions.”
“You have a point.” He stilled as an elderly man from the village began to walk in their direction.
She could tell the elder’s respectful nod made Stefan uncomfortable. His face had settled back into its usual expressionless lines, but she’d begun to learn to read his moods . . . or at least she’d fooled herself in believing she could. Now she glanced away from him to find the elder waving her over.
When she went to him, he gave her a painstakingly hand-drawn map and said a single beautiful thing in the language that mirrored that of her homeland closely enough that she could understand him. “Hot spring.”
Her eyes widened. “I thank you,” she said, then glanced at Stefan before turning back to the elder. “He will not be comfortable with others around.”
“There will be no others. It is my family’s secret, the spring.” He passed her a faded photograph with wrinkled hands that held an age tremor. “Go there.” Then he pointed out the location on his map.
“I thank you,” Tazia began, but the white-bearded man waved it off.
“The gratitude,” he said, “is ours.”
Walking over to Stefan after the elder left, Tazia told him of the hot spring, showed him the photograph of the distinctive rock formation not far from that spring. “Have you enough energy to ’port there?”
Stefan considered the image. “I won’t know until I try.”
“You should try,” Tazia said. “The hot spring will soothe the ache, help you be in shape for further work.” She added the last because that was the only thing about which Stefan seemed to care—his own health was important only when it threatened to become an impediment to his task.
“You hate being dirty,” he said, to her surprise. “You can come and bathe in the spring.”