Anne Bishop - Bridge of Dreams

Zhahar studied him in return. “It feels like if I don’t at least try to help him, something will pass me by. I’ll catch hold of the edge of it, but it will be too wispy to hold on to. And then, when it has passed, I’ll realize how important it was—and how much I lost.”

“This isn’t some romantic daydream, is it?” What he was about to do would have the Directors of the Asylums and the Shaman Council demanding an explanation. He didn’t want to cause that kind of commotion, only to discover Zhahar’s feelings were the result of girlish fantasies.

She shook her head.

He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he rounded the desk and stopped beside her. “We’ll remove him from the care of the men his uncles hired. You will be his Handler and give him the same treatment the others receive. If there is measurable improvement, I will continue to override the treatment his uncles initiated.”

“Thank you, Shaman.”

For the first time since she stormed into his office, he saw her relax.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replied as he headed for the door.

Blinking back tears, Zhahar squared her shoulders and kept her mouth shut.

“I-I don’t understand this,” Meddik Benham stammered as Nik and Denys, two of the male Handlers, pulled down Lee’s shit-soiled pants and revealed the needle marks, bruises, welts, and raw skin. “This couldn’t have happened in a day, and I saw no evidence of abuse when I last examined him.”

Shaman Danyal studied the Meddik, those beautiful eyes as cold as deep winter. “I believe you. How you were deceived is still a mystery. That you were deceived brings into question all we’ve been told about this man and about the medicines that were given to him.”

Lee began to thrash and scream.

Zhahar stepped forward and gave Nik and Denys an apologetic look. “Shaman, I don’t think he’s going to respond well to being handled by men. At least for a while.”

Danyal hesitated.

“Let me see what Kobrah and I can do. We’ll call for assistance if we need it.”

Another hesitation, but that was probably due to the hatred on Kobrah’s face as she stared at Lee’s genitals.

Finally, Danyal nodded. “Clean him up as best you can without removing the restraints. I want a catalog of his injuries. When he’s more lucid, he can have a proper bath.”

Zhahar waited until the men left the room before turning to Kobrah. “Can you be my Helper with him?”

Something dreadful slipped into Kobrah’s eyes.

::She scares me,:: Sholeh said.

=Don’t leave him alone with her,= Zeela said. =Not when he’s naked.=

“Kobrah?” Zhahar said.

“I won’t touch him if he gets a stiffy,” Kobrah said.

“All right. Anytime you feel uncomfortable, you tell me.”

Kobrah nodded. “I’ll get a cart and bring one of the big basins and jugs of warm water.”

“Sponges and soft cloths too.”

As soon as Kobrah left to fetch the supplies, Zhahar closed the door most of the way. She hurried back to the bed and took Lee’s face in her hands—then jerked back when he tried to bite her.

“Lee,” she said urgently. “Lee, can you understand me?”

He thrashed a bit more, then seemed to make an effort to hold himself still. “Who…?”

“Zhahar. Do you remember me?”

He turned his head as if focusing on the sound of her voice. “You gave me water.”

Relief washed through her. She wasn’t sure he’d been aware enough to remember that. “Yes. I’m going to be taking care of you now. The Keeper agreed to give you some time without the medicine—without the needles. But you have to help me. You have to show him you can get better without the medicine.”

“I’ll…try.” His face was turned toward the side of the bed where she stood. “Who’s with you?”

“My Helper’s name is Kobrah. She’s gone to fetch some water so we can clean you up a bit.”

“No. Who’s with you now?”

A chill went through her. “No one is here except me.”

His body relaxed so suddenly, she wondered if he’d had some kind of seizure. Then she realized he was falling asleep.

“Lee?”

“Funny,” he mumbled. “I was sure there was more than you in the room. I keep hearing three voices speaking in unison.”

::He’s a one-face,:: Sholeh said. ::It’s not possible for him to sense all of us, even when we’re all close to the surface.::

And yet he did , Zhahar thought. He’d heard Sholeh’s and Zeela’s voices in hers when they weren’t in view.

=The Shaman senses us,= Zeela said.

::But that’s because he’s a Shaman. And even he doesn’t hear us.::

Zhahar stood by the bed and watched Lee sleep until Kobrah returned with the cart full of supplies, including some basic ointments for the bruises and raw skin.

Lee wasn’t a Shaman, but he was different from other humans. As Zhahar washed the parts of the man she could reach without undoing the restraints, she wondered what he was.

Fever raged through his mind, turning memories into strange landscapes. Convulsions shook his body until he was certain his bones would break apart. Firm but gentle hands draped a cool cloth on his forehead and washed the sweat from his body.

Zhahar. Her name was Zhahar.

Found you , he thought, trying to tell her the simple truth that the fever kept locked in his mind. Didn’t even know where to look, and yet I found you. Like Sebastian found Lynnea. Like Michael found Glorianna.

Sometimes her voice was a single note; sometimes he heard an intriguing chord that spoke in perfect unison. When she talked to him, she resonated with the conviction that he could get well, and despite the pain and fever, her resonance tugged at him enough to make him listen—and believe. Of course he would get well. Now that he’d found her, he had to get well.

He told her about the pain, about the heat. Things she could ease.

He didn’t tell her about the nasty voices scratching at his mind, whispering their poison—voices that sounded like the wizards who claimed to be his uncles.

We’ll always be with you , one voice snarled. We’ll always be close by. The day you’re well enough to leave the Asylum, we’ll be waiting. And the next time, we’ll take more than your sight, Bridge. Much more.

We’ll always be with you , the other voice crooned, as if offering comfort. We’ll always be close by.

I know , Lee thought as he shook from the latest convulsions. There’s no escape.

Before he could decide if he felt troubled or relieved by that truth, the fever took him again and burned all thoughts from his mind.

Danyal watched fury flicker across Pugnos’s and Styks’s faces before they regained control.

Bloated maggots. Spiny worms under the skin.

“Why were we not informed before this decision was made?” Styks asked.

“The men you hired to take care of your nephew deceived you,” Danyal replied.

They hadn’t been deceived. He saw that truth in their eyes despite the effort they were making to hide their heart-cores from him. They had hired those men precisely for the harm that would be done.

“The abuse they inflicted on Lee can’t be undone completely,” he added.

“What does that mean?” Pugnos asked.

“If he wasn’t truly mad before, he is now.” Danyal laced his voice with regret. “I am confident that we will be able to bring him to a point of being calm, even docile, within the confining environment of the Asylum, but the damage that was done to his mind cannot be repaired. He may be lucid in his madness, but he’ll never be able to participate in the real world.”