Chapter SIxteen

            There were six people, then, that went with Ederyn up to John’s place, Galen, Morvran, Gwaysalt’s daughter Gwayvre, J’nar, and Laval.  Galen rode his bike up slowly behind them, carefully balancing his crutches before him.  Once they got up there, Ederyn unfolded the papers that Laval had given him and began to read them silently.  The others followed him as he made his way through John’s halls, still lit by the magic in his paintings on his ceilings and walls.  Ederyn led them into the last of the twilight rooms, and to the back wall.  He placed one hand on the wall and read the words John had written, words Galen didn’t understand, in the language of magic. 

            The wall disappeared, dissolved.  “Welcome, Ederyn.  Welcome, friends,” John’s voice, his old voice, echoed through the hall.  Galen’s heart skipped a beat, an instant of mistaken, instinctive joy that John was there, followed by realization that it was just an echo, a spell placed on the door.  Galen paused to look down, shaken by the sudden flip of emotion, and did not step forward in awe with the others.  Ederyn, his hand still outstretched to the wall that was no longer there, stood beside him. 

            John had a treasure after all, it looked like.  Chests, boxes, great shelves spilling over with all manner of gold, silver, jewelry, jade carvings, ivory statues – it was overwhelming.  Galen switched his natural sight over to seek for magic, and scattered items shone with it.  John had unbelievable piles of treasure, and now his will made more sense.  Treasure filled not only that room, but John also had rooms off his star hall, and his moon hall.  In one room, off the back of the moon room, where his library was, he had another library, filled with rare and magical books, some so old Galen was afraid to touch them.  Ederyn, reading the instructions John had left him, informed Galen that the vast majority of books were now his.  Galen wandered in bemused amazement through the room, reading titles, running his fingers over the spines.    

            Finally, when the treasure was all found and assigned, and the others began to try and decide what to do with it and how to get it down the mountain, Galen took Ederyn to the side.  “Did you know about this, all this?”

            Ederyn shook his head.  “John never mentioned any of this.  Nothing.  I had no idea.”

            Galen surveyed the piles of boxes, chests, that John had left them.  “He never said a word to me, either.  What the hell are we going to do with all this?”

            “I’m taking my part for the Daere.  I won’t believe for a second that Morvran will take the part given him and use it for the Daere.  We can build our own school, with this.  Repair houses, build a few more.  Buy some more sheep, maybe bring in some of those dairy goats that they’ve been breeding over in Apple River.  I don’t know how you are going to use yours, but I have enough places to use my share.  I figure, I’m not giving it to the town like he said we couldn’t, I’ll just be doing things with the money that the town will benefit from.  I think I can get away with that.”

            Galen nodded.  “John gave me pretty strict instructions, too, though I’ve no idea what they mean.  I can’t use the money in town, though, that’s Morvran’s job.”

            “Oh, aye, and we’ll see how good a job he does.  If I were you I’d take what John has given you and spend it quickly, before it disappears.  Hide it away.  Figure out what you can do with it and use it.”

            Galen nodded.  “Maybe… maybe I’ll build a library,” he said, smiling.  “Or a new hospital, that everyone can use.  Or, heck, both.”  He looked around at the mounds of stuff.  “How are we going to get all this out of here?  A lot of this goes to other people, right?”

            “Aye, a lot of it I need to distrubute.  I’ve set aside a storehouse in our village for most of it, and I hope to have it all passed out by tomorrow morning.  I’ve alerted everyone that has something coming to them; honestly it’s most everyone in town.  Some people from out of town.  I’ve got a crew of Daere set up as guards.  I think there at least we’ll have it under control.  I’ll need to get it there, though, and I hoped you’d help me.  I thought maybe we could use the carry-all.”

            “Oh, aye, that’d do it, I think.  Might ride a bit low.” 

            And so they loaded up Galen’s bike, slipping items inside the carry-all, and Galen was once again thankful that he hadn’t ‘upgraded’ to that new bike that had the low-capacity carrier.  Galen took Ederyn’s load to his storage house in the Daere village, and it took two trips.  Ederyn stayed in the village to begin to distribute the smaller gifts.  Galen then took J’nar’s load down, not as much but still a good amount, and then Gwayvre sweet-talked him into taking her mother’s share to her in Bonham’s Gate.  They had a huge party already going there, and he had a hard time getting away from it.  They tried their hardest to get the dragonslayer to stay, and it occurred to him, not for the first time, how odd the reaction of his own town was.  They were far more subdued, even subtly hostile to him.  He didn’t understand.  Being distracted, he hadn’t thought about it much, but the hearty praise of the people in Bonham’s Gate made it hit home again.  He rode back to John’s, thoughtful. 

            J’nar and Laval had stayed at John’s the whole time, along with Morvran, who was trying to figure out how to carry his share.  “I’ll take it down for you, too, if you like, Morvran,” offered Galen.

            “No, no, you’ve done enough, I think, and I thank you.  I’ll bring some people up and we’ll get it out.”

            “It doesn’t take long.  Much safer, quicker.  J’nar can tell you; everything that goes in comes out again, if you’re worried about putting it in the carry-all.” J’nar nodded.  “Much, much easier than dragging wagons up here, or whatever you’re planning.”

            Morvran fretted.  Galen could tell it galled him to accept help, especially from Galen.  “Oh, all right.  Make sure none of it is damaged.”  Galen shrugged.  He wasn’t doing any of the loading.  J’nar and Laval were kindly doing most of that.  Morvran finally pitched in to help load his own items. 

            “So what are your plans for the town, now that you’ve gotten all this money for them?” asked Galen. 

            Morvran grunted and did not reply at first.  “First thing we’ll have to take care of is recompense for the farmers John ruined, and the families of the people he killed.”

            “Oh?  I thought that was where the money from selling his body was going to.  That’s what you told me.”

            Laval stopped to listen, and Morvran tried to cover.  “Of course.  I don’t think that will be enough, though.  It didn’t come out to that much.” 

            “Really?  The man from Juncture told me you got quite a bit of money.  Enough to pay them, and more than enough left over for recompense.”

            “You can’t believe what he said.” 

            Galen nodded.  “I see.  How much did you get, then?”

            Morvran quoted a ridiculously low figure.  At the growing anger in Galen’s face, and the increasing attention Laval was paying to them, he followed up by claiming more was expected, everything had not sold yet.

            Galen fumed, considering tossing everything of Morvran’s out of the carry-all, but then stuck to his main reason for helping Morvran – to make sure the money went somewhere safe, and that the town knew what it had coming. 

            Morvran tried to get Galen to unload his goods at his house, but Galen insisted it wasn’t large enough or safe enough, and unloaded at the town hall.  It was late, but there were enough folks attracted by the sound of his bike that the unloading became a group effort.  Enough people were involved that Galen was certain the town would know about the extent of the money.  It would give Morvran a harder time hiding any of it away.

            Finally he rode back and loaded the last of his.  He was still completely at a loss as to what to do with it all.  Once it was loaded, J’nar and Laval and he walked around the emptiness of John’s place, making sure they had not missed anything.  It was unreal, walking through John’s echoing halls, through the rooms that had been stuffed with treasure.  Galen still found the whole thing hard to believe. 

            Finally they left, Laval riding with Galen, and J’nar assuring them he just wanted to walk home, and take some time to think.  Galen dropped Laval off at the town hall, where quite a crowd had gathered for aparently an impromptu town meeting.  Galen decided not to join in and rode home. 

            He stood next to his bike, wondering what to do with it all.  He certainly couldn’t unload it.  He couldn’t carry it all, not with his knee still screwed up.  And where would he put it?  Maybe he could cram it all in his house, maybe, but then what?  It wouldn’t be safe there, thieves could run off with all of it, with his faithful guard dogs probably holding the door for them.  He stood, pondering, and then crutched inside.

            He put in a connect to Issa.  She answered, after a long delay.  “Galen?  Isn’t it a bit late there, dear?”

            “Aye, it is.  I was wondering if I could come out and visit.  I have a few things I’d like to leave with you.”

            Issa gazed at him, a smile widening on her face.  “Oh, Galen, it would be so good to see you.  Of course you may visit.”

            “I’ll be out straight away then.  Leaving now.”

            “Heavens, Galen, what’s the rush?”

            “I’ll explain when I get there.” 

            Galen left a message for Nwyvre, who wasn’t home, and then walked over to his neighbor’s to ask him to care for the dogs.  Arrol wasn’t home either.  Galen left a note tacked to his door and left a second message for Nwyvre.  He fueled the bike, packed some provisions, and hit the road for Juncture. 

Chapter Seventeen

            Despite being on the Outskirts of Juncture, Holten was not terribly far from it in terms of time.  Galen rode across Holten, along the Dusty Road, and was at the border of Holten and Maidstone, the phase between Juncture and Holten, at dawn. 

            He paused before the phase point.  As far as he had heard, nothing had changed; the phase was still stable, and had been for hundreds of years.  He still stopped before it though, looking up and down the length.  On this side, the phase looked like a long, shimmering curtain of silvery green, reaching as far as the eye could see to the right and left, curving off south, and as far up into the sky as could be seen.  It was a bit reflective, which made the country seem as if it extended on beyond the curtain.  Galen paused, then rode through.

            His vision shimmered for a second, everything went a bit grey, and then he was on the other side.  On this side, rather than gently rolling hills, dim dawn, and a shimmering curtain, the Maidstone road ran along a curving seaside road, along a grey and violent sea.  It was day, but raining lightly, a stiff stinging wind coming in off the sea.  Galen breathed the salty air as he rummaged in his carry-all for a warm jacket.  Ah, ocean air, he thought to himself.  Smells like dead fish. 

            The way through Maidstone took the better part of the morning – or whatever; Maidstone was on a different time than Holten and it seemed to be midday.  He finally reached the phase to Juncture after passing through a dozen small towns, all of them becoming larger and more diverse as he neared the phase line to Juncture.  In the last town he counted no fewer than seventeen different types of sentients, and a couple he wasn’t sure about.  By then he was speaking Junction, firmly telling the beggars and vendors to bugger off, every time he stopped. 

            Before he phased into Juncture he pulled off by the road and geared up.  He opened his carry-all and pulled out the larger Threedee gun, strapped it on.  The beggars faded, just like that.  He changed his warm wool jacket for a long, tough, creela hide jacket, outfitted with pockets to hide all his gear.  He pulled his St. Bened’s medal out from under his shirt.  He strapped on the sword he had used in the war, and a Jig knife Boot had given him for a birthday present, about a million years ago.  He fitted a constant-connect to his ear and jacked it into the tiny slot behind it, fiddling with it until the connection to his implanted eye was complete.  It wasn’t picking up the signal, yet, over in Maidstone. 

            Finally he was ready.  To get to Issa’s place, with the bike, keeping the carry-all intact, he would have to avoid all the no-tech and no-magic neighborhoods.  This would take him on a long, round-about route, of dubious safety.  He was better off prepared beforehand.  He took a deep breath and phased over.  Grey, then the lights of Juncture, and the constant-connect fizzled a bit then snapped into the correct frequency.  He took a moment to get used to the stream of information and entertainment Juncture started to feed into his eye, his ear, and relearned how to adjust it, changing the channel, adjusting the volume and display with his mind until he got it to where he wanted it.  He checked his watch.  It now showed Juncture time, and the time/spatial plumb on the top was settled cautiously in ‘stable’.

            Juncture was pretty much how he remembered it.  Changed, and yet unchanged.  Chaotic, mutable, and yet still the same kind of chaos.  It took him the rest of what he thought was a day, and he was dead tired by the time he got there, but he made it to Issa’s place in Ailiki district without much incident.  The only hard part had been the slipping of a neighborhood; the locals informed him it had slipped away and disappeared two years previous.  Just gone, one morning, although it had been flickering a bit.  He rerouted around it. 

            Issa was ecstatic to see him.  Perhaps a bit much, and he peeled her off and gently reminded her of Nwyvre.  She pouted cheerfully for a second, and then peeked into the carry-all.  She did not seem a bit surprised at what he had brought.  When he commented, she merely remarked, “Oh, Galen, hun, how could John live there that long and not gather so much?  He was a very old dragon, remember,” she said, as if that explained it all. 

            First Galen gave her the items John had willed to her, and she accepted each one with delight.  When he explained how much else he had to store, she thought for a minute, then said, “I know just the place.”

            She took him to her bank, where, for a relatively small fee, they were able to store everything except the books.  It took several hours, documenting all the items with the bankers.  By the time they were done, Galen was stupid-tired.  Issa managed to get him back to her place, where he collapsed snoring on a couch before she could even try to get him in bed. 

            The books, for the most part, he stored at Issa’s home the next day.  She already had a vast library, and had plenty of room to add John’s unusual and perhaps a little dangerous collection.  She helped him unload the books, and then they talked, Galen telling her everything that had been going on.  She spent a little energy on some friendly but unsuccessful seduction, and he spent a little effort reminding her of Nwyvre. 

            “What do you plan on doing with your money, Galen?” she asked, as she returned again to her own chair. 

            “Hm?  Oh, I don’t know.  Build a library maybe.  Add on to the school.  Build a new hospital.”

            “No new house for you?”

            “I like my house.  I’ve just got it to where I want it.” 

            “A new bike?”

            “Naw, still can’t find a new model I like.”

            “Why not go back to school?  Finish up, like you always wanted.”

            “Uh… no.  I’m getting too old to go back to school.”

            “Oh bullshit.  You’re barely adult, for a human.” 

            “I’m twenty-six!  I’m not going back to school at twenty-six. Besides, I’ve got a good practice, thanks to you.  I don’t want to give that up.”

            “That chap from Bonham’s Gate could take over, couldn’t he?  Isn’t he watching the practice now?”

            “Yeah, he is. I’d rather not hand that practice over to him, though.”

            “Ah. Well, it’s something to think of, dear.  I know how disappointed you were when you had to come back home before the second phase of vet school.  If I’d had the money then I would’ve sent you through myself.”

            “I know.  You did enough; that last year wasn’t possible without the money you sent.  Maybe I’ll set up a scholarship, so no one in Trent’s How has to join the fucking army just to get through school.”

            “There’s a good idea.  I’ll look into how you can set that up.”

            “Thanks.  Hey, do you know if I might be able to get a hold of those people out at that extension service?  I’d like to check and see how they’re coming with John’s case.”

            Issa told him how he could contact them, but Galen wanted to go over and talk to them.  “I may as well, as long as I’m in town.”  Issa pulled up the directions to the lab.  They were over in Jamkal district, and Galen decided to take a port rather than his bike.  He toned down his outfit a liitle; both Ailiki and Jamkal districts were relatively safe.  He walked a mile to the portal and stepped through, hoping he remembered how to find the Jamkal port.  Everything went shimmering grey, and he reached out and felt his way to Jamkal, then stepped out easily on the other side.  Guess porting is just something you never forget how to do, he thought. 

            Doctor Nkiju seemed genuinely glad to see him, and anxious to discuss John’s case.  He guided Galen through a maze of tiny offices and labs to his, where he sat him down and tried to explain what had been done so far.  “We’ve ruled out quite a few differentials, Doctor Munro, but still haven’t quite pinned down what turned your dragon.”

            “Call me Galen.  What have you found out; can you tell me?”

            Nkiju went through the long list of things they had tested and had found negative or equivocal.  Galen noted with amusement they had even checked for rabies.  “We’re still working on a few different types of possession, and some of the more subtle curses.  About all I can tell you is it doesn’t look like a natural phenomenon, unless by some strange coincedence the dragon had a brain lesion in the exact same area that you nethered.  And even that wouldn’t explain it; that area of the brain – you just wouldn’t expect that kind of result.  Maybe with an implant, I suppose…”  and he paused thoughtfully.  “…but that’s so far-fetched I’ll just save that one for later.  Not that we’d be able to prove it…” and he was thoughtful again, silent.  “…well, unless we sent a time-slipper back to check.  That’s a bit invasive, though, but always an option.”  He seemed to come back to himself and realize Galen was still there.  “Er… never mind all that.  Sometimes on these tough cases I tend to think aloud.” 

            “Quite all right.  I’m glad to see you’re making some progress.”

            “Well… if you can call it that.  Now, may I ask you a few questions, Doctor?”

            “Certainly.  And it’s Galen.”

“Of course; call me Nkiju.  Did your dragon have any problems with parasites, recent illness, anything like that?”

“Sure, he got mites every now and then.  Diminuta aratenensis, last had a batch about three weeks before he turned.  I treated him, got them all.  No illness from it; those things never bothered him except to make him a little itchy.”

“Ah.  That helps a lot.  Do you have any of those mites left, stored perhaps?”

“Er… no.  I destroyed them all.  They’re kind of nasty, actually.  This last time around one of them took a chunk out of my shoulder.  I just kill them, then burn them up.”

“One of them bit you?”

Galen nodded.  Not too bad; it healed up fine.”

“It drew blood?”

“Gods, yes.  Took a chunk the size of my thumb out of this shoulder, right here.”

“A clean wound?”

“Hardly.  It hung on; we really had to tear it out.  They like to chew.”

“That’s very interesting, Galen.  Were you ill at all afterwards?”

“No, not at all.  It healed up fine, like I said.  Tissue patch.”

“Hm…”  Dr. Nkiju was silent, off into one of reveries. 

“I don’t get it,” asked Galen, when he didn’t snap out of it.  “Why all the interest in the mites?  They’ve never been a serious problem for him.”

“Hm?  Oh.  Well, I’m just wondering about one of our differentials.  There’s a type of curse, not very common at all, that can be vectored through other creatures and then manifest only in the type of creature it was created for.  Kind of like some diseases, spread by mosquitoes, or fleas, or pix-bugs.  It’s a difficult magic, and not used very often.  It can really get out of control if not done carefully, or if done maliciously, as it often is.  Not that we see these types of curses that often.  They may be more frequent than we think; they are very hard to detect.  Galen, what I’m wondering is if your dragon may have had one of these curses.  Some of our tests might indicate a subtle curse like that, like I explained.  We’re just detecting little traces, whispers really, but I’m nearly convinced it’s there. The fact that he had mites recently is suggestive of a connection, but it would be very hard to prove without the mites.  However,” and he gave Galen a strange look, “if someone else was exposed, we might be able to detect it through them.”

“You think I might have been exposed, if he was cursed?  I’m not cursed.  I feel fine.”

“No, of course not.  The curse is not made for humans, if that’s what it is.  It was made specifically for dragons.”

“Um… all right.  How can you tell if I was exposed?”

“Quite simple.  Let’s go take a little blood sample, shall we?”

‘A little blood sample’ proved to be anything but that.  Galen nearly passed out before they realized he was genomically Unaltered and started a transfusion.  He was so busy discussing the case with Nkiju that he didn’t notice until things started to spin.  The med-tech that helped him out, as an absentminded afterthought, healed his knee with a whisper of magic and a quick tap of finger on knee.  Galen was nearly too surprised to thank her properly. 

“We’ll get results in another week or so, not sure how long,” Nkiju todl him.  “Might be a bit tricky, trying to detect it off a non-host species.  We’ll see what we can do.  Care to look at what we have so far while we wait for that transfusion to kick in?”  Nkiju showed Galen their results so far, including letting him look at some of the histopath.  That got Nkiju off onto another couple of interesting cases he was working with, which he also showed Galen, who was fascinated. 

Galen peered through the microscope at the colorfully stained tissues Nkiju was trying to show him.  “I didn’t think The Pla got vampirism,” he said. 

“Neither did we!  It sure looks like the first case, though, a really nasty strain, too.  Quite the public health scare here, let me tell you.” 

Finally Galen noticed the time.  “Hey, I’d better get going.  Thanks for your help, Doctor Nkiju, let me know what you find out.”

“I’ll let you know when we get anything new in, Galen. Take care of yourself out there in the Outskirts; make sure you send me any cases you need a hand with.” 

Galen took the port back to Issa’s, collected his bike and promised he’d visit again, much sooner.  He headed back to Holten then, after allowing himself to buy a couple things he’d missed, living far away from Juncture.  He ported to East End and got a liter of his favorite rum, and then over to Teef’s Gate for some Lai Tohsh spice.  He fueled up the bike, but decided he didn’t have time to get it tuned up, which he ended up regretting four hours later outside a little town in Maidstone when the damned thing broke down. 

            He spent a wet and miserably cold two hours by the side of the road, then, in Maidstone, cussing merrily at his bike, grudgingly thankful all the same that it hadn’t decided to break down on the way into Juncture.  He had all the tools he needed, thanks to the carry-all, and was unfortunately very familiar with how to repair this particular malfunction, but it still took far longer than he liked and cost him three scraped and bloodied knuckles. 

            So he rolled into Trent’s How a lot later than he had planned, and it was long past nightfall.  The lights of course were not on at his home, and he stumbled inside in the dark, fended off the dogs, and fell into bed after shucking off his boots. 

            He woke, far too early, to the dogs barking their fool heads off and someone pounding on the door.  He staggered out to answer it, and Geraint came in, agitated.  “Galen, where have you been?  Did you see what’s on your house?”

            “Whuh?”  Galen rubbed his eyes and tried to wake up. It wasn’t working.  “Hm?  I went to Juncture.  Just for a day.  Got back last night.”

            “Juncture?  You went to Juncture?  What for?”

            “I put John’s stuff up safe.  Didn’t have anywhere around here I could keep it.” 

            “Well that’s just great.  Do you have any clue what the hell’s been going on here since you carted off John’s treasure?”

            “Uh… huh?  No…”

            “The town’s gone crazy.  It’s insane.  Morvran hauled just piles of treasure into the town hall that goes to the town, rumor says the Daere have even more, and that you got just as much if not more.  Everyone’s money-crazy, it’s just nuts around here.  Everyone wants their piece of it.  Everyone says you should be giving it to them.”

            “Huh?”  Try as he might, Galen just wasn’t making any sense of what Geraint was getting at. 

            “Everyone says you and whoever else got John’s money ought to be giving it out, payment for all the trouble John put us through, and who knows what other damned fool reasons they’re giving.  Then you up and disappeared after you got your money… Galen, it really wasn’t a good idea, it made you look really bad.”

            “What?  That’s complete bullshit.  For one thing, I do have plans for that money.  A library, maybe, maybe a new hospital.  Scholarships.  I just didn’t want piles of that crap laying around my house.  For another thing, Morvran is supposed to giving the townsfolk the piles that he got; that was what John directed.  And Morvran told me he was going to recompense everyone through the money he made off of selling John’s body!” 

            “Aye, well, that’s not what Morvran and Stafford are saying.  And the Daere have completely flipped out; they’re taking their whole damned settlement and moving over to Apple River.”

            “What the hell?  What’s Ederyn doing?”
            “I don’t know, all I know is that since that treasure came down, everyone is crazy.  A lot of people are mad at you, Galen, for whatever reason.  An investigator from Juncture came out the day after you disappeared, that sure pissed a lot of people off, including him since you were gone.  He still did a bunch of poking around, though, but he left yesterday.  And the crap that Morvran and Stafford and their toadies are saying don’t help one goddamned bit.”

            “Toadies?  Who’s that? And what are they saying?”

            “A couple more of those freaks that Morvran pulled in from Juncture.  They’re saying a lot of bad things about you, Galen, and about Ederyn and the Daere.  Crap about that will, and you killing him and all.  And then with you leaving – hell, Galen, I don’t think you could’ve done anything worse.” 

            “Shit.  Well, I’m back, and I’ll straighten it out.”

            “Might be a bit late.  I guess you haven’t seen what’s outside.”  Geraint led Galen outside and around to the front of his house.  Splashed across the front of his house in red paint were the words ‘Go away’ and ‘Murderer’. 

            “What the fuck?” said Galen.  “Murderer?”

            Geraint shrugged.  “One thing going around is that you made up what you said about what happened with John in Haeredowne.  Made up a reason to kill him, and get his money.”

            “That’s insane.”

            “I told you, people are nuts.  They seem to have forgotten, oh, I don’t know, all those sheep he killed.  And in the same breath they can condemn you for killing him and then bitch about not getting their share of his money.”  He shook his head.  “The whole town is stark raving mad.”

            Galen stared at his front wall grimly.  “Guess I’ll be painting today.” 

            “Oh yeah, that’s another thing you won’t like.  That is, if you’re going to be painting instead of seeing cases.  A lot of people saying they might just stick with Lythre, instead of calling you out again.” 

            “Fucking hell,” Galen muttered.  He stared at the wall, seething and confused as hell.  “I’ll paint this over.  Then I’m going out to see Ederyn and the Daere.  Then I’ll see my damned cases.”

            “Good luck getting into see the Daere.  They’ve closed off their village.  Same with the Pla.  In fact, I think the Pla might be moving with the Daere.”

            Galen sighed.  “Great.  Thanks, Geraint.  If you see people around, maybe just let them know – I’ve got plans for the money, for the town.  Like I said, a library, maybe a new hospital, scholarships.”

            “I will, Galen, but people just want their own little pile of money.  Like I said, they’re crazy.  I don’t know if they’ll really appreciate those sorts of things, Galen.  Morvran is promising them money, their own little pile, so they’re just eating up what he’s saying, even if it is complete crap.”

            “Have you seen Nwyvre?”

            “Not much.  She’s been keeping herself scarce; people were bad-mouthing her, thought she knew what you did with all your money.  Some people said you were saving it all to give to her.”

            Galen thought guiltily of the necklace he had saved for her, gold with three tiny jade balls, carved into little cages, each with a magic bird that sang tiny songs.  Then he shook the guilt away – why shouldn’t he give her a gift?  “That’s not true either.  I hope they didn’t give her too much trouble.”

            “Aw, you know her, she’ll be fine.  She has spent her fair share of time shouting at people the last couple days.” 

            Galen shook his head, appalled.  If only John had known the trouble his generosity would bring…  “Well, thanks, Geraint.  Better not be seen talking with me for too long.”

            “Fuck em.  Let me know if you need anything, Galen.  I’d better get back to the mill.”

            “Thanks, I will.  Oh, Geraint?”

            Geraint turned back. 

            “What did you do with that box from the dragonhunters?”

            Geraint shrugged.  “I didn’t take it.  I didn’t want it, and I couldn’t pay his price.  I’ll never go to Juncture.  Did you take it?”

            “Oh, aye.” 

            Geraint raised an eyebrow.  “After all that fuss about his body, you took it?”

            “I thought I’d give it to the Daere, to let them get him settled.  Hessa told me that I needed to take it, and settle him myself, basically, as his friend.” 

            Geraint nodded, then shook his head in confusion.  “I’ll never understand those Daere.”

Chapter Eighteen

            Galen had a hard time understanding the Daere, too.  After he had put one layer of paint on the front of his house, he rode out to the Daere settlement.  They briefly stopped him on the road but then allowed him in.  The place was a flurry of chaos; everyone in their village was working hard, packing, tearing things down.  Galen sought out Ederyn and was directed to the grainary. 

            Ederyn was with four other Daere, guarding what remained of John’s treasure.  Ederyn looked exhausted, and worn thin.  He stood in surprise when Galen walked in. 

            “Galen?  What are you doing here?”

            “I came to see what the hell you’re doing out here.”

            “We’re moving our settlement.  Didn’t anyone tell you?”

            “Oh, aye, they told me, and I didn’t believe it!  Why are you leaving?  I don’t understand.  Last I talked to you, you were talking about a new school, all kinds of plans.  What happened?”

            “What happened?  I talked to Hessa, that’s what happened.”

            “Hessa?  She’s making you do all this?”

            ‘She’s not making us do anything.” Ederyn looked around, then walked back to a couple of John’s chests and sat on one, gestured that Galen could sit on the other.  He stood.  “Galen, after you left me here, with this treasure, I spent the rest of the night handing out the gifts that John had willed to people.  By the time it was over, we were fending off about thirty people, mostly your humans, that decided they’d come and pick up a little something whether John willed it to them or not.  People got hurt.  Thankfully no one got killed.  We sent in for the Shirereeve to come out, or the reevesman, but they never did.  Not until the next day, when Stafford came out and hassled us for causing a riot. Threatened to arrest me.  Me!  When it was all the humans that came out and caused all the trouble.”

            “And that’s why you’re moving?”

            “No, no.  Of course not.  That’s all a little matter; it all would’ve blown over in another week or two, even if I did get arrested.  At least, that’s what I thought.  No, Hessa called me in to talk to me.  She gave me one of her point blank foresights, you know, kind of like that one you got where she just came out and told you you were going to break your arm again, and you did, two days later.”

            “What did she tell you?”

            Ederyn hesitated.  “I’m not supposed to tell any humans.” 

            “You can’t tell me?”

            “Well…  I’d like to, Doc, but you are human.” 

            “But whatever she told you, it’s making you pack up the entire village and move.”

            Ederyn nodded. 

            “And you’re taking the Pla with you?”

            “We told them.  They are choosing to come too.” 

            “That’s crazy.  You’ve told me yourself that Hessa is always making crazy prophecies that never come true.”

            “Not like this, Galen.  Not like this.” 

            “What can I do to convince you to stay?”

            “Nothing.  We’ve made up our minds.  We’re leaving.  The Daere out in Apple River have already said they’d be glad to have us; there is lots of room there for both our settlements.  We just can’t stay here anymore, Galen.  We just can’t.”

            Galen finally sat, frustrated, but uncertain how to change Ederyn’s mind at this point.  And it would not be just his opinion; many people led the Daere and Ederyn was but one of them.  “Will you have a doctor out there?” he finally asked, not certain what else to say.

            “Yes, we will.  They have a doctor that sees all sentients out there, not just humans.  She’s licensed for major and minor but still sees minor species like us, too.  They have another doctor that just sees the beasts.”

            “That’s unusual.”

            “They have a practice together.  You and Gunson could’ve done something like that, you know.”

            “I tried to set something like that up with him.  Didn’t work, but he let me use his clinic sometimes for you folks or the Pla.”

            Ederyn did not reply.  Once, Gunson had refused him treatment and told him to ‘go to the animal doctor.”

            “Well, I’m sorry you folks feel you have to do this.  Trent’s How won’t be the same without you.”  It’d suck, in fact, thought Galen, but he didn’t say that.  He stood to go.  “Let me know if you need anything.  If you’re dead set on leaving, I hate to see you go, but I’ll help if I can.”

            Ederyn nodded.  “Thanks, Doc.  That won’t be forgotten.”

            Galen began to walk out, not even glancing at the heaps of treasure that still remained. 

            “Galen, wait,” called Ederyn.  Galen turned.  “You should… you should think about leaving Trent’s How too, Doc,” said Ederyn.  Galen walked back over and Ederyn grabbed his arm to pull him close.  In a low voice, he told him, “The prophecy speaks about our fate, and the fate of others that would oppose our enemies.  I suspect you’d fall on the side of those that would oppose our enemies, Doc, and I’d hate to see you…”  I’d hate to see the rivers run red with your blood, Doc.  “Uh… I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

            “I’m not leaving, Ederyn.  Nothing against Hessa, but a prophecy isn’t going to make me leave my hometown.” 

“I wish you would, Galen.  Please remember what I said.”

Galen vividly remembered what Ederyn said, eight days later, as he stood in his backyard.  Things had been getting worse, each day, the people in town becoming increasingly hostile to him, blaming him for the Daere leaving, angry with him for taking his share of the treasure to Juncture.  They did not believe him when he told them his plans for it, and so far his plans for the library had been blocked.  Morvran, instead, unveiled his bold new plan to make the town, in his words, wildly wealthy, by beginning a mining operation in the mountains, something John had long opposed.  Galen spoke out against it vehemently and was shouted down.    And against all reason, the townsfolk believed the whispers that Morvran’s people were spreading around town.  Galen had been paying for it, painting his house daily, giving up on his thrice-destroyed mailbox, finally this morning boarding up his broken windows.  He had tried to return to practice, and was seeing a few cases, but many of his clients were no longer calling him and were calling Lythre instead.  He had just returned home in the evening from his last case. 

This was the final straw, though.  Galen was beyond angry.  Galen remembered what Ederyn said, and he also remembered what Hessa had told him. 

You will be afraid.

They had killed his dogs, all three of them.  Left them in bloody heaps, eviscerated, and left Tash’s intestines strung in a bloody loop over his back doorknob.  With the dogs’ blood they had written a message on his back wall. 

She’s next. 

On his kitchen floor, they had written, Leave while u can.  The back door was still locked and shut. 

Galen called Stafford out, against his better judgement.  Stafford refused to come out, telling Galen that he’d called him out there too often already, and if he didn’t stop with the calls he’d arrest him for disturbing the peace.  This made Galen so blindingly angry he couldn’t even reply, and he disconnected without another word. 

Galen asked his neighbor Arrol what had happened.  Arrol claimed he hadn’d heard a thing, which Galen believed.  But Arrol didn’t seem all that surprised or upset at Galen’s loss.  The same was true for the other neighbors.  They hadn’t heard a thing, and although they said words of condolence, the words had no heart behind them. 

Stafford ended up coming out anyway.  Galen figured he couldn’t miss an opportunity like this to goad him, or gloat, or whatever.  Galen had one drink under his belt by then and was looking for a spot to bury the dogs.  It took all he had to stop himself from smashing Stafford’s smartassed face in with the shovel when he came around to the back of his house. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Stafford, pointing at Galen’s back wall, after he had wordlessly surveyed the scene.

“You tell me,” Galen said, his voice quietly dangerous.  There was only one ‘she’ in his life right now, and the whole town knew it.

Stafford made empty promises to catch those responsible, but Galen didn’t waste his time trying to believe him.  Stafford didn’t even stay to examine the scene, just made his promises and left. 

Galen documented the scene, took images, took samples, even though he knew it was a lost cause.  No one would pay for this; there would be no justice.  But Hessa was right.  He was afraid.  He was afraid for Nwyvre. 

Galen buried the dogs, too furious to mourn them properly.  He called Nwyvre and arranged to meet her at the town square.  He took his gun. 

Chapter Nineteen

            He arrived first.   He had walked, not wanting the whole town to hear him.  It was late by the time he had finished cleaning up his yard and kitchen and settling the dogs, and no one met him on the road or in the square. 

            Only Boot was there.  Ever constant, never changing, always twenty, Boot. 

            “Fucker,” whispered Galen.  “How did things get to this?”  Boot didn’t answer, just stared off into the night. 

            Galen sighed.  “Asshole.”  He leaned against the pedastel, hoping Nwyvre would be safe, wishing now he’d gone straight to her house instead. 

            He didn’t think he could blame the people of Trent’s How for his dogs.  His neighbors’ complete indifference, yes, that bothered and deeply disappointed him.  A lot of the faith he had in his town had dissolved away with their staring, unsympathetic reactions.  But he just couldn’t think of anyone that might do such a thing, no matter how much they hated him.  The mayor’s people from Juncture – sure, he could see them doing it.  He could also see Morvran slyly, indirectly, suggesting it. 

            But why?  Why all this energy against him? 

            Morvran had plans.  It was starting out with this mining venture, but Galen suspected it would reach much farther than that. 

            John was out of the way.  The Daere were out of the way.  Even the Pla were gone.  That just left Galen.  Out of the way of what?  Morvran, he guessed, but why?

            Did Morvran kill John?  Did he make him go insane?

            The more Galen thought about it, the more certain he was. 

            “Galen?”  Nwyvre was walking across the square.  Galen, paranoid, scanned the dark shadows of the square for any threat, setting his eye so it could spot people in the darkness.  “Are you ok?  You sounded so strange on the connect.”

            “I’m all right, are you?”  He held her by the arms, searched her face.  “Everything quiet over at your place?”

            She laughed nervously.  “Of course.  Everything’s fine.  Galen, what’s wrong with you?”

            “I just… I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

            “You called me out here for more than that.”

            He looked into her eyes, not sure what to say.  How could he keep her safe?  “Nwyvre, I’m… thinking of leaving town.  Maybe going to Apple River, see if the doctors out there need another one.”  Or maybe going to Juncture, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that out loud. 

            “You are?  Oh, Galen, are you just leaving because some of the kids in town are out of control?  Really, Galen, I expect you to be a little more stubborn than that.”

            “I…they…” He couldn’t bring himself to explain what had happened.  He took a deep breath. Honesty, Galen,  you swore you’d be honest with her, he reminded himself.  She’s the strongest person you know, she can handle it.  “They killed the dogs, Nwyvre.  They’ve threatened you.  Please… please come with me.  I can’t stay here.  I can’t stay here and expect them to leave you alone.” 

            “Oh, Galen!” she gasped.  She insisted on knowing exactly what had happened, and he did not hold back.  He told her everything.  She was most upset they had gotten into his house.  He assured her they did not seem to have taken anything, or damaged anything. 

            “Next thing you know, Galen, they’ll burn it down.  You need to leave, I agree, maybe just for a little while until things settle down a bit.”

            Galen nodded, but he wasn’t too concerned about his house.  Next thing they had promised was her, not his house.  “Come with me, Nwyvre.  Please.  It’s not safe for you here.”

            “I can’t leave Trent’s How with you, Galen.  This is my home.”

            “Then make your home somewhere new, Nwyvre.  Make one with me.  Be my wife, and come with me.”

            “What?” she whispered. 

            “Marry me, Nwyvre.  Come with me, and marry me.”

            She looked up into his eyes for a long, long time, not saying anything.  He waited, praying. 

            “I can’t come with you, Galen,” she finally whispered. 

            His heart crumbled.  He nearly fell to his knees to beg her, and he struggled to stay standing. “Please…” he breathed, but she shook her head, tears in her eyes. 

            A pinpoint red light staggered across her face, pausing on her forehead.  Galen, holding her by her arms, pulled her in a jerk to the ground, screaming, “Get down!” She yelped and fell with him.  ‘Get behind Boot!”  He shoved her, half-carried her, threw her behind the pedastel, then whirled while grabbing his gun.

            His eyes searched the darkness around them.  Nothing.  Whoever It had been was gone, leaving a shadow of infrared warmth where they had lain in wait by the side of the square, behind where he had been standing.  Warm spots of tracks led away, fading, but he didn’t dare leave Nwyvre.  Galen stood and screamed after them, “I’m leaving, I’m fucking leaving already!  Leave her alone, I’m leaving!” 

            He took Nwyvre home.  His fear made him too gruff with her, and she cried silently the whole way, frightened herself and not understanding what had really happened.  She had seen none of it.  He left her at her door.  “Stay inside, lock the door.  I’ll be leaving town straight away, Nwyvre, and I’ll ask you one more time – will you come with me?”

            “No, Galen,” she said quietly, her eyes red.

            “I’ll not see you again, then, Nwyvre.  I love you, more than anything, and I’ll not see you get hurt.”  He bent to kiss her, but she looked down, avoiding him.  He kissed her forehead.  Turned.  And left. 

            He packed his bike that night, throwing almost everything he owned in it, except for the East End rum, which he emptied into himself.  As he was packing, he got a call from Doctor Nkiju. 

            His own blood sample bore traces of a curse, a curse carried by the mites and vectored silently to John.  “It’s a rather nasty one, Galen, very difficult to initiate.  What we know of it matches up with your description of what happened to your dragon, though.  It’s only been described a couple times, and not for many hundreds of years.  I’m thinking of writing up a little manuscript about it, care to be co-author?”

            “Sure, I’d be interested in that. Any way to trace back the curse to the origin?  Define exactly who cast it in the first place?”

            “Not really.  That’s very difficult research.  Our lab had been working on that, made a little progress, but right now I need a student willing to pursue that sort of thing full-time.” 

            “Oh, aye?  Funny you should mention, that, Doctor Nkiju…”

            Packed and ready to leave, Galen took one last thing out to his bike, the box Keye had given him, that contained John’s fang, claw, scale.  He slipped it in with a pop, praying that double stacking his phase-containers wouldn’t make his bike’s carry-all overload and explode, or implode; he forgot what exactly was supposed to happen.  When he looked up, Morvran was there.  With his implant eye he could see three more people in the shadows on the other side of the road. 

            “What do you want?” growled Galen. 

            “Doctor Munro, just a friendly visit.  I swear, you grow more surly every day.  No wonder you’ve had these little troubles with your neighbors.” 

            “I’m leaving town.  Happy?  Leave Nwyvre alone.  Call off your toadies.” 

            Morvran made little tch, tch noises.  “Leaving town?  Now, Doctor, that’s a shame.  Who will care for your practice?  And what does Nwyvre have to do with this?”  Morvran widened his eyes.  “Ah, sweet, pretty Nwyvre.  Is that why you’re leaving town, hm?  Ah, the fickle ways of love, that’s a shame and that’s for certain, Doctor.  You made such a fine couple.” 

            “Just leave her alone.”

            “One has to wonder, Doctor, where you might be going.  Taking what’s left of John’s money away, perhaps?  It’s a shame those resources won’t be staying in town.”

            “I tried to get that library started, and you stopped it.  Same thing with the hospital.  Don’t whine about what you’ve already refused.”

            “Ah, yes, we discussed that and discussed that.  The people of this town have agreed for years that I’m the best person to make those decisions, about what’s best for this town.  A shame you could never seem to agree with them.  It would make John sad, seeing what you’ve done, Doctor Munro, I truly believe it.”

            Galen walked within a foot of the mayor and glared down at him, trying hard to hold his fury in check, aware of the presence of the mayor’s backup in the shadows.  “Don’t – don’t you dare.  Don’t you dare presume to say what John would feel.  How dare you?”

            The mayor did not back down.  “Perhaps I have a better idea than you think, Doctor,” he said quietly, with a little infuriating smirk on his face.

            “You… you killed him, didn’t you?”

            “Really, Doctor Munro.  I think it was pretty well-established that it was you that killed him.”

“You infected him, you set that curse on him.  Through the mites.”

Morvran’s face, for an instant, was startled and frightened, and Galen knew, then, that he had been right.  But then Morvran smirked. 

“Prove it,” he sneered, and turned to leave. 

Galen reached out and grabbed Morvran’s shoulder, stopped him.  “I will,” he said.

Morvran’s toadies rushed out of the bushes.  Stafford was among them and tried foolishly to arrest Galen.  He approached from the front and the other two from the sides. Stafford was  pompously spouting something about ‘under arrest, assaulting the mayor’, not noticing how angry and suddenly focused Galen looked. 

Galen, despite the rum, or maybe because of it, was very fast.  He decked Stafford and dropped him like a rock.  The two mercenaries tried to tackle him, and he caught one by the neck of his shirt and punched his face three times then dropped him to the ground.  The other one tackled him, made him stagger a single step, but Galen was easily a third heavier.  Galen scraped him off and slammed him into the nearest lightpost. 

Morvran still stood.  Galen turned to him, and Morvran backed up a step.  Galen pointed at him.  “I will,” he repeated.  “Consider that a promise.”

Galen got on his bike and rode off on the road leading out of Trent’s How.  At the junction, outside town, he stopped.  To the left was the road that led to the Dusty Road and Juncture.  To the right, the road led to Apple River. 

            For a long time, Galen paused, letting his bike idle, trying to decide.  He finally turned toward the left, and eased into the road, but somehow when he looked up, he was on the road to Apple River.  Something changed his mind, and it didn’t feel like it had been him. 

            When he got there he figured out who it had been.  On the road leading into Apple River, Eus was waiting, just standing by the side of the road, under the lightpost that marked the edge of town. He stepped out when Galen approached.  He had traveling clothes on, a small pack.  Hanging from his belt was the sword that Ederyn had taken up to John’s place, so long ago. 

            Galen stopped, cut the engine.  Silence echoed around them.  Eus looked like hell, dark circles under his eyes, thin and wasted.  He still wore a worn bandage around his head.  “I heard you were going to Juncture, Galen.  I was hoping you’d have room for one more.” 

            He’d heard, thought Galen.  Oh, he’d ‘heard’ all right, right when Galen decided to go there, for certain, not ten minutes previous.  “What’s wrong with you, Eus?  You look like hell.  Did Dr. Gunson let you go like this?”

            Eus shrugged.  “He tried not to.  I left anyway; my family was coming here.  I came with them.” 

            Galen got off his bike and walked to his side, looking carefully in his face.  Eus’ eyes shifted away from his.  Galen reached out to touch his arm.  Eus shied away violently, stepped back. 

            “Eus, come sit down for a second.”  Eus sat on Galen’s bike, making a wide circle around Galen, out of arms’ reach.  “I’m not going to touch you, don’t worry.  What’s been happening?  Not getting any sleep?”

            Eus shook his head.  “It’s been getting worse since the injury, since we were at Haerdowne.  Every day, it’s a little worse.  I don’t know what happened, Doctor, I just can’t block people out like I used to.”

            Galen nodded.  “It can happen.  You got jostled a little, things got knocked around.  You’re either advancing faster than you can handle it, or you’re losing your ability to control it.”

            Eus kept his eyes down.  “I think I’m losing it, Doc.”

            “Hm.  Maybe, but I think not.  Wasn’t Gunson able to do anything for you?”

            “I was ok while I was at the clinic, but when I left…”

            “The doctors out here couldn’t help you?”

            “They haven’t had a psi out here in fifty years.  They didn’t know what to do.  I’ve been… I kept myself far away from the others.  But not far enough, never far enough.”

            Galen shook his head.  “I wish you’d contacted me, Eus, I’d have been able to help you out.”

“Doctor Gunson said you wouldn’t be able to help much either.”

“Did he now?  I thought I talked about your case with him.  I can help you, don’t worry about that.  No, sit still, I’m just getting into my carry-all.  Why do you want to go to Juncture?”

            “I thought I might be able to get help there.  Training, maybe.”

            “And you were going to head out to Juncture like this, mind wide open?  Never would’ve made it.”

            “I hoped you could help.  I don’t know the way; I’ve never been there.”

            “And that’s why you called me here?”

            Eus shook his head.  “I didn’t call you here.”

            Galen pulled a roll of bandages out of his carry-all, looking rather tattered and threadbare.  “Ah, here it is.  Aye, you did call me here.”  Galen straightened up again.  “I was turned toward Juncture when you made me come here.  And that’s why I think your injury jostled you into advancing faster than you can keep up, Eus, I don’t think you’re losing it at all.  Now hold still and try your best to block me out, I’ll need to get this on you.  Pull that other bandage off.”

            Eus sat up stiffly on Galen’s bike, eyes closed tightly shut, while Galen carefully wrapped the tattered bandage around and around his head, then fastened it.  “There you go.  How’s that?”

            Eus slowly opened his eyes.  He stared at Galen, met his eyes for the first time.  “I don’t… It’s all…”  He closed his eyes, with a relaxed look of bliss.  “It’s quiet.”

            “Course it is, now you only have yourself to yap at you.  You sure you want to go to Juncture?  It’s kind of a rough place sometimes.”

            “I need to go.”

            Galen nodded.  “I understand.  Got enough money to make it?”

            Eus flushed.  “Ederyn gave me some money.”

            “Psi training, really good psi training, is very expensive.  You sure you have enough?”

            “I don’t know.  I’ll make it somehow.  I’ve got to try.  I can’t live here like this.”

            “Well, I know a guy – nice guy, too – who just might know where you could get your hands on a scholarship.  For training.  If you’re interested.” 

            Eus’ eyes lit up.  “You’d do that for me?”

            “Did I say it was me?  I never said it was me.  There you go, being all psionic all over the place.  Maybe I’d better tighten that thing up a notch.” 

            Eus looked startled for a second, then realized Galen was kidding.  He grinned. “Aye, I’d be interested.”