Azaria (40 page)

Before she had a chance though, Yumineh had overheard Malena and butted in. "Are you two talking about Azaria?" she asked.

"Yes!" Malena answered. "Poor girl!"

"I know!!" Yumineh shouted.

Dogahn's interest was piqued also. "She knocked me over and then ran away. Is she okay?"

"No, she's not. She's ill," Malena answered.

Yumineh mistook Malena's meaning. "I know! Poor girl. Did you see her? She's lost it completely. She barely bothered to fix her hair or put any color on-"

Daneel was shocked Yumineh had the gall to pile on, when everything was already so awful for Azaria. "Don't you dare, Yumineh!!" she said. Yumineh flinched, shocked at her friend's tone. "Don't you dare tear her down! You have no idea what she’s going through!"

Several moons ago, Yumineh would have retreated, loath to offending Daneel. But a lot had happened since then. Her confidence was no longer a myth she worked to convince others of. It was a permeating aura accompanying every step. Although she liked Daneel and would prefer to remain friendly with her, she wasn't going to let her talk to her like that, especially not in front of Dogahn, or anyone else.

"Excuse me?!" Yumineh responded with ferocity. "I have no idea? I lost my whole family, Daneel! I know more than anyone here exactly what she's going through. And believe me, I handled it a lot better than she is. I was only a child. And completely alone. She at least still has her father."

Daneel wasn't about to back down either. She knew Yumineh had a tough childhood. But her guilt for rejecting Azaria made her even more defensive of her old friend. "Yes, Yumineh. You're right. You did lose your family and I'm truly sorry about that. But you haven't handled it nearly as well as you think. I've finally figured that out. You're mean! And jealous, and resentful. And I've had enough of it. Azaria didn't lose her whole family. But she lost her mother. And she lost Dogahn because of you. And now she has her mother's cough. So I'm sorry, but you really don't have any idea what she's going through."

"I'm jealous??" Yumineh countered. "You’re the one who won't even forgive her..."

Normally Dogahn would have stepped in and he'd meant to, but Daneel had given him so much to think about, he was lost in thought for several moments.
Did Daneel say Azaria lost me because of Yumineh? What does she mean? That Azaria still wants me? Could she still love me? And what did she mean she has her mother's cough? Is that why she ran off earlier? Should I go to her?
He thought hard on it, but then a second thought entered his mind.
But if Azaria has Zephia's cough, I could get the cough too.

As he brought himself back to the moment, Daneel had already ended the argument with Yumineh and left. She was determined to make up with Azaria, but once outside, she stopped, thinking better of it.
What if Malena's right? What if Azaria does have her mother's cough?
Her reasoning followed Dogahn's exactly. Reluctantly, she decided to find Luzon instead. She stayed away from Yumineh for the rest of the night, but couldn't keep her mind off Azaria and the cowardly guilt she felt for not going to her best friend.

15

With the dead of winter behind them, the frosty gloom within the caverns of Boar Camp began its annual thaw. While it would still be a couple moons before they abandoned their winter dwellings, everyone looked forward to a return to the mud brick hovels they considered their true hearths. Spring was always the most joyous of seasons. Life would return in its infinite varieties, from the massive multitudes of prairie herds to the agonizing doggedness of the swarming buzzing creatures. The nourishing warmth the blazing orb's brilliant rays brought would soon be beating down on their pale shoulders. Cracks in the streams and lakelets opened, allowing access to the divine taste of sweet, fresh river-meat. The lusty flavors of that first savory catch saturated the wind, sought out the farthest reaches of the cave complex, confronting dulled nostrils, reinvigorating depressed bellies.

A flurry of activity soon filled the camp. Snow drifts evaporated, icy trails were cleared, the sick miraculously healed and the despondent found their spirits returning. Small, exuberant gatherings bubbled up from the ether. The emergency stores were opened. Those who'd been hoarding their poison turned generous, unsealing their stock.

In Azerban's cave however, Azaria's sickness brought fresh worry. Her cough strengthened, as her mother’s once had. Her skin became pasty and clammy. Her usual vigor was sapped. Although Azerban continued to tell himself his daughter would return to her former self soon, his anxiety deepened with each passing sun.

More and more frequently, Takur would come by to check on her, administering various remedies and concoctions. Azaria felt guilty he wasted such effort on her, reasoning others needed his services more, but she couldn’t politely refuse his aid.

"Don’t worry Azaria. I’m not here to trouble you,” he joked one evening. “With the sun climbing again, your father and I need to begin preparations for the next Summer Gathering."

"Of course, Ta'araki. You're always welcome here. Why don't you have your tea at our hearth? I'll heat some water," she replied.

"No, no, Azaria. Stay where you are. You need your rest. Anyway, I've already started the tea at my cave," Takur replied.

"Oh, okay," she answered, trying to sound disappointed.

"So Azerban, do you have the patience for a chat with an old man?" "Of course, Ta'araki. My meditations can wait." Azerban answered.

"Very good. I'll follow you out," Takur said. Before he left, he patted Azaria on the head, letting his palm linger on her forehead. Azaria knew he was checking for a fever and silently resented it.

As the two entered his cave, Takur motioned his underling to a padded stump next to his hearth, where a large, shallow bone bowl filled with simmering water sat upon a fashioned bone tripod. Takur sat across from Azerban and with a piece of fur lifted the bowl up and directed the water through a chip cut into the edge, allowing the scalding liquid to spill into a cup containing a mixture of crushed leaves and pedals. Azerban took what was offered and blew cool air into it before sipping. He detected traces of chamomile, lavender and valerian, flowers known for their soothing capacities.

"Thank you, Ta'araki," he said after tasting the infusion.

"I added some stress-relieving agents. I thought it would do you some good," he replied. "But I'm sure you've already identified the contents."

Azerban questioned Takur's need to explain the bitter concoction, but only nodded. "It is welcome," he said after another sip.

"Luna appears to be warming, thank the Ta'ar," Takur began. "I anticipate we'll be able to return early."

"I was thinking the same thing," Azerban replied evenly. "Assuming the Mother spares us any late winter blizzards."

Takur nodded in agreement and sipped at his own cup. "Yes, that is always a possibility," he said, "but the cedar does not foresee it a likely one."

Azerban looked down to his left where a large circle of dirt was traced upon an old mat. Distributed inside the perimeter in a random pattern was a handful of smooth, stripped cedar twigs, each about the length of a man's outstretched palm. He quickly read the wood and closed his eyes. In his mind, he traced the pattern of the twigs against the night's constellations. He found they most closely resembled the Dove, a strong signal of tranquility. Having not read the sticks that were thrown previously however, he had no idea to what the sign pertained, but deduced Takur had been reading the weather patterns before he arrived with his invitation. Was this what had brought him over?

Not being as skilled as his elder in reading the wood, Azerban had come upon his prediction for an abbreviated winter via other methods. As a skilled hunter and tracker, he read the signs the Mother had provided him. He’d noticed certain avian species were already making their return. Besides that fact, he could taste spring's early arrival on the winds.

"I agree," he answered. "I'm sure you'll find no complaints from Boar Camp."

Takur nodded. "Actually, I didn't call you here to discuss weather patterns."

"I didn't think so," Azerban admitted. "What is it then you wanted to discuss? We won't be able to make any real plans until we can send runners to the other camps."

Takur looked down and sighed. "Honestly... what concerns me is your daughter," he said, his voice taking on a grim tone.

Azerban tensed up. "What about her?"

Takur sighed again and fidgeted on his seat. He took another sip of tea, before turning his eyes back to his guest. "You must have realized by now she's been called by the Ta'ar, Azerban." He took care to sound as sympathetic as possible, despite the bluntness of his words.

"Called to the Order?" Azerban laughed uneasily. "I think you have your work cut out for you, convincing her of that."

"Yes, well..." Takur started. He looked exceedingly uncomfortable. "Most burdens don't intersect with the luxury of one's desires. I'm not talking about training her for the Order."

"What is it you speak of then?"

"Azerban, son," Takur began. "You must know she's been affected with the same sickness as her mother. You of all people would understand this. Or you should understand it. Her calling is only a matter of waiting." He could see the shock of his words on his underling’s face and realized the thought had not occurred to him. With a whisper he added, "I'm sorry you must learn the truth in this manner."

"What? But that is..." Azerban exclaimed, completely horrified. "That’s ridiculous. It’s a lingering winter cold, nothing more."

"Is it ridiculous, my son?" Takur’s tone had transformed from sympathetic to apologetic, even tender. "Pay closer attention to her symptoms. Think back to how Zephia's sickness began. Do you not recognize the similarities? I'm afraid this is more than a passing cold."

Azerban sat confounded for a long moment, sure his elder must be wrong. He finally ended his silence with an uneasy chuckle. "Your sight must be diminishing, my old friend. Azaria's cold is nothing like her mother's. Zephia's cough spanned many moons in developing and came and went more than once. Azaria's came swiftly and has not wavered. It will end as quickly as it appeared."

Takur ignored the slight. It was understandable given the circumstances. "I hope you're right, Azerban. However, think on it for a moment. Azaria's sickness came in the winter season, when the evil strikes harshly and with more quickness. Do you believe your mate would have lasted so long had she been come upon during a frozen moon?"

Azerban had no reply. In his heart he knew Takur was correct about Zephia. His denial gave way to outright panic. "Then we must do everything we can to ward off this evil. We’ll start her on Zephia's medications immediately. Azaria is young and strong. She'll not succumb."

"And I’ll do everything I can to help you, Azerban. I swear it to you. This tragedy must be stopped in its tracks, no matter the cost. We will work together."

"Thank you, Ta'araki. I appreciate the devotion you've always provided my hearth. Any assistance is welcome. I'll start the remedy tonight. With the Ta'ar's help, she will overcome this."

"Of course, Azerban. I'll stop at nothing to give her every chance possible," Takur said.

Azerban started to rise, without excusing himself. "I must get back to her."

"Azerban, before you leave... I would ask you consider one other course, in the dire case our efforts fall short."

Azerban stood looming over the frail leader. "Of course, Ta'araki. Anything which may help her."

Takur sighed before continuing, "If Azaria does reach a hopeless state, I hope you will consider offering her to the Ta'ar."

Azaria lay on her furs, watching Quzo play by himself, still feeling resentful at Takur's doting attention, but unsure as to why it so bothered her. She thought at first it was because he was singling her out, but now realized it had to be more than that. She just didn't understand where the resentment came from. Was it the nastiness with Dolaria that still bothered her? Azaria didn't see why it would. Takur and her father had largely put their differences aside since then. She didn't understand why she'd be the one still holding a grudge.

In defiance, she decided to take Quzo to play with Ania. It’d been a while since she’d visited with her aunt.

Tobit and Shaledar's cave was higher up on the valley wall and as they made their way, Azaria led him carefully up the steep path. Quzo would have ran had Azaria allowed him, but she held his hand firmly within hers. Outside Shaledar's cave, she slapped on the leather flaps.

Tobit met them at the entrance flaps, fidgeting uncomfortably.

“Hi Tobit, I thought Quzo could play with Ania for a little while,” Azaria said.

“Oh... sure. Go ahead, Quzo,” he answered, moving aside just enough to let him slide through.

"Tobit!!" Shaledar said, appearing behind him. "Let Azaria in out of the cold. What’s wrong with you?"

He reddened, but stood his ground, "I don't mean to be rude, Azaria. But maybe you should be resting back at your own cave."

"Tobit!" Shaledar howled.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want Ania becoming ill. Or you..." he explained.

"Tobit! That's enough! Azaria is family and she's welcome no matter what condition she's in."

Azaria, now deeply self-conscious, decided perhaps the visit was a bad idea. "No, Shaledar. Don't worry. Tobit is right. I should go," she said.

"Azaria, no. Please stay. My paranoid mate is being ridiculous," Shaledar urged, casting him another stern glance.

"No, he's right. I should probably be in my furs. Do you mind if I leave Quzo here for a while? I'll send father for him later," Azaria said.

"Yes, of course, Azaria. Ania would love to play for a while." Shaledar embraced her niece, hugging her tight for a long moment. "I'm sorry for Tobit's impudence. You're always welcome here. Come back after your rest, okay?"

"Okay, I will," Azaria answered, knowing she wouldn't.

She left alone and slightly stunned, not knowing what to think. She could see Tobit didn't intend to be rude, but acted instead out of fear. His reaction scared her. Did everyone feel this way? Thinking about it, she realized almost no one had come to visit lately. With the coming of spring, many people should’ve been dropping in to talk to her father, to make plans for the return to Boar Camp. Were they all going to Takur instead? Or Hadir? She walked away saddened - and with more than a little fear in her heart.

Azerban stood motionless, stunned by Takur's request. He believed the human sacrifices had ended with Fahim's death, but now realized her mate was just as intent on them as she'd been. The insight hit like a blow to his sternum, knocking his breath out. After a moment to regain his composure he whispered, "I would never allow that, Takur. Not as long as I live."

His response was milder than Takur had expected. He took it as a positive sign. There’d been a chance Azerban would respond as he did when Umar had made the same suggestion. He silently praised himself, believing it was his sense of finesse and thoughtfulness that had produced a different result. "I'm sorry to have to propose it, my son. Of course, nothing can be forced upon you or her. My methods are not as rough as my dead mate. However, for the good of her people, Azaria may make a different choice. I would not deny her the right. Even over your objections."

Azerban remembered back to the same Ta'araki meeting, when he'd gripped his friend Dikshar by the neck and threw him to the ground. His actions had shamed him, and he'd sworn never to let his anger get the better of him again, no matter the circumstances. Desperation took the place of anger. He struggled for a rational line of reasoning. "Why would the Ta'ar want an unhealthy sacrifice anyway? It would be seen as an offense. What madness would cause you to want to risk Their wrath?"

"It is not the body They care for, as you know, but the soul," Takur answered. "Her spirit is as strong as the hawk's. They call to her unceasingly. Think of her flight from High Cliff. The impossible speed in which she ran when seeking out Fahim’s assistance for her ill mother. Her warning of the Kebar attack. These are signs, Azerban. Not accumulated over a lifespan, but in a single season. I believe we ignore them to our own doom."

Azerban waved his hand in dismissal, having heard enough. He wanted to argue that if the Ta'ar really were calling for her, They would have her soon enough, at Their hand. There was no reason to ask her for such a sacrifice. But it was all beside the point. He would never consent. "What you ask for can never be given, Ta'araki. I won’t allow it, even if she would. I would take her away before it ever came to that."