Book of Water

Chapter 14

14

Michaela awoke, but did not yet open her eyes. First she gauged the state of her head. It ached—that was no surprise—but it no longer hurt her so badly that she willingly let go.

It was always the most dangerous time for her, directly after a healing. She had no strength, no power, no conscious will to survive. She only longed for sleep. For the quiet darkness and solitude her mind offered by effectively shutting out the world.

The length of her recovery varied. If it were a small wound, just a cut or a broken bone, she might be gone for only a short time. Something more serious—a staved in skull, separation of a limb, some mortal injury that had already progressed too far—and she could stay away for hours. She always awoke to a headache, ranging from a dull throb to the pointed and piercing pain that sent waves of nausea through her belly and left her uncontrollably heaving.

The pain was here now, but not so bad that she couldn’t sit up. Her skin still felt clammy. She found a nearby waterskin and drained the half that was left.

The light seeping in through the tent was much dimmer now. It might be dusk already. She had slept a long time.

Astolpho joined her a short while later, bringing some kind of tea and a small withered apple.

She ate the apple, rejected the tea. And didn’t look at Astolpho.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Michaela continued to chew. She would not acknowledge the gift. She still questioned whether it was wise.

“He wants to thank you himself.”

“No,” said Michaela immediately. “Help me up. We need to leave.” She shifted to her hands and knees and prepared to stand. Astolpho didn’t offer to help. Soon she sank back down to the ground while the world around her swayed.

“One night,” said Astolpho.

“No.”

“One night of food and shelter. It’s going to rain again.”

“I don’t care about the rain,” Michaela said. “Where is Rogero’s army? Have you seen them?”

“No,” Astolpho admitted.

“They might attack again,” she said. “You know I can’t be here.”

One wounded man was enough. A whole encampment of them…

She had already fought to ignore the injuries she felt around her as Astolpho escorted her to Rinaldo’s tent. Michaela understood her own limits.

“We’ll be safe here,” said Astolpho. “Just one night. I promise we’ll leave in the morning.”

Michaela closed her eyes. She needed to think clearly. She didn’t care what Astolpho wanted. What mattered was whether it would serve her plan.

Times like these, she missed her friends Owege and Kamari the most. She would have counseled with them and talked through all of the separate paths: make an alliance here. Travel there. Hide now. Go at all speed. Trust no one. Trust only this one.

Trust no one.

Would it ease her passage to befriend these people? It had taken weeks for her to convince herself that Astolpho could be of use. Perhaps this, now, was why. She could crawl up the ladder that led to King Carleman, one of his warriors at a time.

“One night,” she agreed. “Not here. Someplace far from the others.”

“I’ll make arrangements,” said Astolpho, obviously pleased. “Wait here.”

Rinaldo’s tent felt stifling. She could still smell his blood.

But she had no desire to go out among the others while she still felt this weak.

“Bread,” she told Astolpho.

“I’ll bring it,” he promised as he left her.

She needed her strength back soon.

She would not remain powerless among the enemy.