“The water? No, the dancing flame. That was the magic. Wasn’t it?” His arm was swollen but no bone jutted from his skin. A clean break.
“The flame wasn’t magic, but a leaf that makes you see senseless things when smoked. Common enough on most of these jungle islands, and some other islands too, where that kind of distraction is welcome.” He shook his head. “There was something wrong with that water. I saw it when you and the others drank.”
Selena started to protest but realized she had no argument. It might have been the smoke or the water or the chanting of the medicine woman.
It could have been anything, she thought. I was so oblivious. But Julian had not been.
“How did you resist? Did you not see the dancing flame?” Just hours ago that flame brought her such joy. Now it seemed silly to even say the words.
“I saw it,” Julian said. “But I knew it wasn’t real. I just concentrated on that and tried to keep my wits about me.”
“But how?” Selena asked.
A half-smile curled his lips. “Long years of practice.”
“Practice?”
“Keeping people out.” He tapped his forehead. “When the water bowl came around, I refused. Two big fellows tried to force it down my throat but I spit it in their face. That’s when things got a little out of hand.”
“I don’t remember that. I was already asleep,” Selena muttered with a disgusted shake of her head. “If the smoke gave us pleasant hallucinations, what did the water do?”
Julian shrugged. “You’d know better than I. But it didn’t seem very pleasant to drink.”
“It was not,” Selena agreed. “It tasted like something dead.”
“Aye. Whistle retched. That’s probably a good thing.”
Selena tried to think but her head was still muzzy and her body still felt as though stones were tied to wrists and ankles. “It was a foolish lack of caution,” she said, feeling her cheeks redden, “but if it gets us to Accora, it’ll have been worth it. For now, you need healing.”
“I wouldn’t mind, but you don’t seem up for it.”
That was true enough. The energy it would take to heal Julian—his wrist especially—was going to drain her dry. “I’m not going to leave you in pain.”
“Much obliged,” Julian said. “I don’t want the crew to wake and see me like this. They might cause a little more trouble.”
Selena reached for the ampulla at her waist. It felt as though it held a lake’s worth of water.
“Why haven’t you called Svoz from wherever you sent him and put an end to all of this? After they imprisoned you and your crew? After they beat you bloody?”
He shifted against the wall, wincing again. “Because you need to find Accora and kill her.” He tried another smile. “If I called Svoz and he ate a native or two, the chances of Ori taking us to the Bazira would be pretty slim, don’t you think?”
Selena frowned. It was true, what he said, but it wasn’t all of the truth. “Yesterday morning you were willing enough to leave me on the beach.”
“Aye. I’m curious.”
“About what?”
His insouciant smile slipped. “How this whole thing is going to turn out.”
Selena pressed her lips together and took up her ampulla. She poured a small amount of water into her palm, and then set it down to find the moon in the sky. “Illuria,” she murmured, and laid her wet palm to Julian’s temple.
The swelling around his eye vanished and she watched the cuts on his lip and brow close. Even after twenty years of healing it still fascinated her; a genuine joy. But her breath came short and she steadied herself on his arm as a wave of dizziness crashed over her.
Julian’s gaze flickered to her hand on his shoulder and then smiled lightly. A smile that softened his face. “You might should’ve done the wrist first?”
She snatched her hand away. “That will require more strength. I’m still impaired from the last night. I think I can mend your wrist but I’m going to faint after.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll catch you.”
Selena sat back on her heels. “Will you now?”
He met her eye for a hard moment and then sighed. “I’m sorry about what happened with Ilior. I shouldn’t have pulled my pistol on him.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Selena snapped. But she was too weary to stay angry. She sighed. “And he shouldn’t have grabbed you.”
“It’s what he does,” Julian said, nodding to where Ilior still dozed under the blanket of the kafira’s smoke. “He protects you.”
“Yes. Always.”
“Why?”
“Because he is weak, remember? He cares for someone other than himself.” She mustered her strength. “Ready?”
All the hard edges returned to his face. “Fire away.”
She poured more water from her ampulla, much more than she’d needed for his cuts and bruises. The water spilled over her hand that trembled. She nearly dropped the small flask. Julian made to take it by the second handle but she snatched it away.
“Don’t touch it. The first handle is for the Aluren,” she told him. “The second is for the god. The god’s hand and the Aluren’s pour together.”
“As you say.”
She gently turned her hand over his wrist, spilling seawater, and they laid her palm to the break. The skin felt tight and sharp tingles told her it was hot. She sought the moon and prayed for the magic. “Illuria.”
The orange glow emanated under her palm and she felt Julian’s body ease as the pain left him. Instantly, the cell began to spin. She fought the crippling weakness and managed to prop herself against the tree-branch wall but she slipped. Julian caught her by the shoulders, steadied her with his two strong hands. Her head bowed as she was too weak to lift it.
“I can’t…”
“It’s all right. You can rest. I got you.”
Her cheek touched worn leather and she smelled cigarillo and, less strong, the remnants of the kafira smoke. Julian’s arms went around her and she fit perfectly in his embrace. His heart pounded against her ear and she wondered, as blackness took her, why it beat so fast…
She awoke, confused and weary. Ilior’s arm was around her protectively. She blinked and looked up; the Vai’Ensai glowered and she followed his gaze to Julian. He sat where she’d left him, his face unblemished, his arms crossed over his chest. He caught her eye and looked away. The crew was already awake, moving with the same sluggishness she’d felt.
Ori came for them when the sun wasn’t yet at its zenith.
“Your kafira overstepped her bounds,” Selena said.
“She did what she had to do,” Ori replied, “to assess your worthiness.”
“And just how did she make that determination?” Selena asked. “By reducing us to fools, drooling over dancing flames?”
“It was inappropriate,” Niven said, pulling twigs out of his tangled hair. “Unseemly.”