Nakka hurried through the forest toward the village. When he told the guards that one of the hostages had come down with a fever, they gave him permission almost instantly. The young nobleman must have been right—they didn’t want to lose their hostages.
But will I be able to bring back the right stuff?
Hohsalle had explained where the medicines were kept and described the bottles he needed, but Nakka couldn’t read. If there were only a couple of bottles in the hut, he’d be fine, but if there were many that looked similar, he doubted his ability to pick the right ones.
It would be better to just bring the whole lot so that he didn’t have to make multiple trips.
Maybe I’ll wake someone and ask them to help.
The woman physician was kind and had worked hard to heal one of the villagers. Nakka really hoped to save her.
The forest was dark, and Nakka could barely see past his feet in the lantern light. For some time, he’d had a nagging feeling that he was being followed. He stopped and looked around, but he saw nothing.
Just my imagination, I guess.
He was almost at the village.
Who should I go to for help?
Something rapped his knuckles, and pain shot through his fingers. He dropped the lantern with a groan, clutching his hand. Someone stepped out of the darkness and closed a hand around his neck from behind. One twist would end his life.
“Please!” he begged. “Don’t kill me!”
“Then don’t move,” a voice commanded. Nakka began to quake as soon as he heard it. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
Nakka nodded with difficulty.
“Where’s the child?”
Still shaking, Nakka croaked out, “In the s-stone p-prison.” Terror coursed through him. With his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth chattering, he blubbered, “Please. Have mercy! I didn’t want to do it! Honestly! I had no choice.”
If he kept talking, perhaps the man wouldn’t break his neck. Words spilled from his mouth as he rushed to explain everything that had happened so far—how he was related to Yuna, his trip to get the medicine, and that people would get suspicious if he didn’t return to the prison.
And as Nakka spoke, he began to sob. He’d been forced to do things against his will for so long. And now he was going to die for it. The realization brought tears to his eyes.
The man kept a firm grip, but Nakka sensed his life was no longer in imminent danger. He opened his damp eyes to find the man staring down at him.
“You’re going to get some medicine and return to the prison. Is that right?” Van asked.
Nakka blinked and nodded.
“Take me with you. If you tell them you asked me to help, you should be able to fool them.”
Nakka’s eyes widened. “F-fool them?”
Van’s eyes went to Nakka’s hooded cloak. “Just get me one of those. You can tell whoever you borrow it from that it’s for one of the prisoners, to keep them warm.” His eyes gleamed with a hard light. “I’m trusting you this one final time. If you really meant what you said, then now’s your chance to make up for your actions.”
Van didn’t mention what he would do if Nakka betrayed him again. His eyes made it clear for him.
After a pause, Nakka replied, “All right. What are you planning to do once you get there, though? That place is full of warriors.”
He received no answer.
The night crawled along. One of the guards had brought another fur, and Hohsalle had laid Milalle on it and then blanketed her with the other two. Her fever seemed to have fallen from its peak. Milalle’s shivers had stopped, and she’d dozed off, but Hohsalle remained wide awake, occasionally wiping beads of sweat from her brow while he waited for the medicine to arrive.
Will he bring me the right ones?
Why hadn’t he told him to simply bring everything? And he’d forgotten to instruct him to wrap the bottles in cloth to keep them from striking each other and breaking. Despite Hohsalle’s best efforts to remain calm, all he could think of were things he ought to have done differently.
He guessed it was close to midnight when the guard outside their cell was relieved, replaced by someone much younger. Although of sturdy build, this new guard had no beard yet. At least, not from what Hohsalle could glean in the dim torchlight.
No sooner did the watch rotate than voices echoed down from near the mouth of the cave.
He’s back!
Hohsalle stood and went over to the bars. The man from the Yusula Oma approached with a companion. Both carried big sacks. A warrior who’d followed them in signaled the young guard with his eyes. The young guard stopped the two arrivals and peered inside their sacks, looking nervous all the while.
Hohsalle struggled to curb his impatience.
Hurry up! Hurry up! Come on! Surely, they already checked them outside!
At last, the young guard raised his head and nodded. The warrior drew his sword and stood at the ready. “Open the door,” he barked.
The guard turned the key in the lock and pulled the cell door open. The two men ducked inside, and the guard locked the door again and hung the key on his belt.
“You made it!” Hohsalle said. “Thank you!”
Suppressing his urge to hurry, he opened the sacks with care. To his surprise, they contained all the medicines and equipment he’d left in the hut.
“Is this what you wanted, sir?”
“It certainly is. Thank you.”
The little girl behind Hohsalle stirred. Nothing roused her before, but the sudden commotion must have penetrated her slumber.
The little man’s companion walked over and crouched beside the child. Her eyes popped open. “Ochan!” she cried. Bursting into loud sobs, she flung herself into his arms and clung to him, weeping and repeating “Ochan” over and over.
He hugged her tight. “It’s all right now,” he whispered. “It’s all right. That’s a good girl.”
“What’s the matter?” the guard asked.
“She’s just glad to see him,” the short man explained, looking uncomfortable. “He’s the uncle who’s been taking care of her.”
The guard nodded, apparently satisfied.
Yuna was wailing loud enough to blast everyone’s ears off. Rising, the stranger ducked his head as if in apology, then he carried Yuna into a corner of the cave to comfort her.
Hohsalle, who had no thought to spare for anyone but Milalle, was already focusing on her treatment. Makokan, however, kept his eyes on the man and the girl.
He’s Yuna’s uncle? Really?
She had called him “Ochan,” a word rarely used in the Yukata dialect. If he was her uncle, she should have said “Oja.” It was hard to tell because of her lisp, but ochan sounded much closer to onchan, the word for “father” in the Oki dialect. Makokan’s eyes met those of the Yusula Oma. The little man blinked and looked away.
Hohsalle shouted, “Makokan! Stop standing there like an imbecile and give me a hand.”
Makokan hurried over and began arranging the medicines. Then he carefully removed a needle from its case and opened a bottle of disinfectant. A sharp, acrid odor filled the cave.
Hohsalle prepared everything he might need if Milalle had an allergic reaction, then he wiped her arm with disinfectant and injected the new medicine.
The young guard outside the cell watched closely. At the sight of the needle, his eyes bulged, and he winced when it pierced the skin. Once Hohsalle finished, he asked, “Will that fix it?”
Hohsalle turned to the guard. “If she doesn’t have an allergic reaction, probably.”
The young man blinked and looked at Milalle. “I bet that hurt, being stuck with a needle like that.”
A weak smile formed on her face, which was still flushed with fever. “I’m fine. It doesn’t feel as bad as it looks. Thank you for your concern, though.”
The guard blushed and quietly assured her it was nothing. Perhaps realizing his behavior was inappropriate for a jailor, he snapped to attention and strode off to the other cell.
Hohsalle sighed once he was gone. “It’s a good thing I was able to give you the injection. You don’t have a rash yet, and the symptoms shouldn’t get much worse since you weren’t bitten by a dog. You should be better in no time.”
Makokan raised an eyebrow. “Does it make that much difference, being bitten by a tick instead of one of the Kinma dogs?”
Hohsalle nodded as he wrapped up the used needle and laid out a new one beside him. “Yes, it seems so. The woman we treated in that hut already had a rash and was delirious when we found her, but she still responded to the treatment, right?”
“Yes, that’s true. Not like the falcon master.”
Relief at giving Milalle the medicine seemed to have restored Hohsalle’s composure. “The potency of a disease,” he explained, “is often weakened when it changes hosts, but sometimes the opposite is true. Illnesses that pass through ticks to some other beast before being transmitted to humans are often far worse. Mittsual may be that type of affliction. Of course, we still don’t know for certain.”
Hohsalle raised the bottle containing the new remedy and peered at it. “I’m just glad we know this medicine works for contamination from tick bites.”
A high-pitched voice came from the corner of the cell.
“Look! Shiny!”
All heads turned. Yuna leaned out of the stranger’s arms, pointing to the bottle. “Ochan, look! Bwight and shiny!”
Milalle turned her head toward Yuna with a startled expression on her face. “Does that medicine glow, too?”
Yuna nodded.
“Like the ikimi lichens in the marsh?”
Yuna nodded again. “Uh-hunh. Same. It glows. Looks yummy.”
Frowning, Hohsalle cast Milalle a confused look. “What’s all this about?”
“The child sees light shining from ikimi and ashimi,” she said.
Hohsalle cast her a puzzled look, but then understanding dawned on him. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that she thinks the new medicine glows, too?”
“That’s right.”
“But that’s crazy. Impossible.”
Milalle stared at him with a feverish gaze, then closed her eyes wearily and whispered, “I know. But I think it’s probably true. She told me the other lichens don’t glow.”
Hohsalle remained silent for a while—eyebrows bunched up in thought. When at last he came out of contemplation, he made sure the guard was still standing in front of the neighboring cell. Fixing his gaze on the short man, he said, “You told me that this child’s background is complicated. Can you tell me why?”
The man’s face froze, but his eyes shifted to the stranger holding Yuna.