Taydren awoke to the usual sickly sweet taste on his tongue, feeling altogether sick.
"You had better be worth it," he addressed his stomach when the wave passed and he had sufficient control over his voice to whisper. If Vayrsila woke up, who knew what would happen. He wondered briefly what time it was; the sun had not yet risen. He lay like that for what seemed like an eternity, waiting and holding on while the sickness rose to a thick, nauseating urge at the back of his throat. Finally it could be ignored no longer, and he was forced to scrabble frantically for the chamber pot, managing to bend his head over it with seconds to spare, hating himself for the idiotic game he played with himself. He knew that he wouldn't be able to hold it back, but he always tried.
He came up for air gasping, making an attempt to be quiet about it and barely succeeding. Heavens and earth, he wanted Cour...
But he didn't dare to get him. For one thing, he doubted he could make it that far without heaving, and for another, it was quite possible that someone would catch him and want to know why he was sneaking about at that time of night-or, if it was Denen, he would know instantly the reason, and their secret would be a secret no more. He whimpered helplessly in his throat and laid his head back against the sheets.
His luck held: by sunrise, the nausea had calmed to the point where he could get up and act as though everything was alright, though Vayrsila did give him a few scrutinizing looks. Tay wondered with a twinge of discomfort whether he had heard anything, but that was soon forgotten in the larger problem of how to avoid repeating the situation of that morning. There would be no time to speak to Cour until well into the day; Tay was scheduled for work in the fields with most of the rest of the tribe. The work was as much of a trial as it had been for months now, and his new knowledge ate at him all morning. Already he loved this cub that he was carrying: he didn't know what he would do if he lost it from pushing himself too hard and hiding things. Between the fatigue and the constant worry the day went far more slowly than had been hoped, and by dinnertime Taydren was ready to drop.
Flopping down in the shade with the other workers for the noon rest, Tay relaxed, unconsciously rubbing at his stomach, and watched for the waterbearers, hoping desperately that Kelper or the twins would be among them and come close enough to him to speak semi-privately. He had to get a message of some sort to Cour and ask what was to be done about the sickness; they (or more truthfully, he admitted, he) couldn't take a chance that Vayrsila would hear. There had to be something that Cour could do.
Before long, Tay caught the giggles and low chatter of the cubs as they made their way carefully between the newly planted rows, bringing the waterjugs with them. Sure enough, there was Kelper, and behind him the twins, as usual ignoring everyone around them and wrapped up in each other. Tay was sure they would have tried putting something disgusting in their jugs had not the grownups been so intimidating; as it was, they contented themselves with dipping the very tips of their fingers in the water and flicking it at each other. That was bad enough, gods only knew what the twins had on their hands, but the adults just shook their heads and took the jugs away as quickly as possible.
The twins were too engrossed in not spilling to pay any mind to Tay, but luckily, Kelper hadn't forgotten. His eyes lit up when he saw Tay, and he responded instantly to the mouthed words, Come here. Balancing the heavy jug carefully, he left the group he had been working on to his brothers and came over to Tay.
"What?" he murmured, handing Tay the dipper and holding out the jug. Taydren took the water gladly before answering.
"I need you to run a message for me. To Cour. Ask him what I should do when the sickness comes. Tell him it's really important, I need an answer by tonight. Can you remember that?"
Kelper's nose wrinkled. "Sickness?"
"Cour will know what I mean. He'll tell you. You'll take it for me?"
Kelper nodded. "Sure, Tay."
"Good." He reached out and gave Kelper a little shove towards the rest of his group, saying, "Go on now, before they leave without you. And no forgetting."
Kelper stuck his tongue out, smiled, and left with Kinlin and Kiplin trailing in his wake, their fingers twined together and their joined hands swinging back and forth. Tay shook his head and rose with the others to get back to work.
"No, it's not anything to worry about," Cour reassured, smiling down at the anxious faces of the twins as he groped through the bunches of dried herbs on the shelf above his head. "Most cub-bearers get upset stomachs while they're with cub. If I can find that ginger root and chamomile, it should help him. It won't hurt the cub at all for him to be a little sick, it just makes him unhappy."
His small audience nodded. "Will I be sick?" Kiplin piped up worriedly as an afterthought, his round eyes reflecting horror. His hand, clasped with his twin's, tightened its grip.
Cour nodded, trying not to laugh. "If you have a cub, you probably will. But don't worry, your da didn't have sickness too badly. If you take after him, you shouldn't have much either." His hand finally located the string-wrapped bunches of soothing herbs and fished it down from the shelf.
"Good," the little cub-bearer sighed, relaxing his grip on his brother's hand. "I don't like to be sick."
"Neither does Tay, so no bouncing on him, okay? And make sure he gets something to eat this afternoon, Kelper? He really ought to keep full. The cub will need half his food." Cour grinned. "I'm sure you can use your troublemaking skills to 'borrow' something from the kitchens."
"Sure," Kelper told him, grinning impudently back. "An' you can't tell on us, it was your idea."
Cour rolled his eyes. "As long as you practice some prudence. Don't steal half the kitchen, and don't take all the sweets. Tay will need good food, not candy," he added, handing over the small bundle of dry leaves and flowerheads. "Now as soon as he gets out of the fields, tell him to steep that, string and all, in a cup of hot water for fifteen minutes. Then he can strain it, and drink it right away. Can you remember all that?"
"Uh-huh!" Kelper nodded eagerly, clutching the bouquets. "Will he not be sick then?"
"He shouldn't, if he does just like I said. Now go on, I've got to finish my work before this evening if I'm going to come and look after Tay with you."
Around midafternoon the sun grew too hot for working outdoors, and the Kindred moved tiredly into their homes to relax, most planning to spend the time of rest with other jobs in hand: knitting, mending, sharpening tools, or any other odd jobs that needed doing. The Elder Weaver, as the old cub-bearer had been called ever since coming into possession of a loom, would likely weave more cloth in the resting time; cloth was prized since the tribe only owned one loom and all thread for it was spun by hand. There had been no trading with humans in a long while. Not since Tay's arrival, anyway.
"Taydren."
"Yes, sir?" Taydren asked, looking up from the half-twisted rope he had been working on. Across the span of the small room, his mentor and foster father had paused in the mending of a roughly spun tunic to scrutinise him thoughtfully. Tay felt himself flush uncomfortably, but he kept his tongue to himself and waited.
"Denen says you were asking for Cour yesterday afternoon," Vayrsila said after a silent moment.
No, no, no! Tay's thoughts chanted frantically even as he schooled his face into blankness. Don't ask me that, I can't lie to you! Ask me something else, anything else...
"Frankly, I was hoping you'd have made friends with Cour a long time ago," the older man went on, and Tay felt a rush of relief so deep it was almost sickening. "You do need someone to talk to, and Cour has been known to listen to most anyone. It will do a good for the both of you."
"But I'm fine, really," Tay protested weakly. "The twins and Kelper keep me busy enough. Besides, I am friends with Cour. We're both busy most of the time, that's all."
Vayrsila shook his head. "But you're not really friends with anyone, are you?" He breathed out a sigh, setting down the shirt, the needle, and the hank of thread on the floor beside him. "Come here a moment."
Reluctantly, Tay turned the end of his rope under and weighted it with the rock he had collected for just such a task. Satisfied that it now couldn't unravel of its own accord, he stood up and went to take his place at Vayrsila's feet. The position was often uncomfortable, though Tay had been the one to choose it, and the guesses Vayrsila made about Tay's inner feelings during his talks were much too close to the mark for the cub-bearer's comfort-in short, Taydren dreaded the few times that his foster father found it necessary to speak with him. The only thing about these discussions that he liked, and indeed looked forward to, was the fact that the older Kindred often absently ran his hands through Tay's hair while they were speaking.
Tay's grand-da had died when he was very small. So small, in fact, that the only things Tay could remember of him were his eyes (not so difficult, since those same eyes looked out at Tay from whatever clear, calm water he looked into) and his hands in Tay's hair. Because he had died so long ago, his memory was set apart from the rest of Tay's tribe, a shining place in Tay's life that was not associated with any other, and for years, those hands in his hair had been the only memory of family or home that Tay could recall without having nightmares afterwards.
Resisting a sigh, Tay slid into the welcome touch and set his ears to listening.
"Pirit, I know it hurts you to get close to people, even if I can't pretend to know the feeling. But you have to get past that somehow or your life will never go anywhere. Haven't you ever just wanted to try?"
"I have tried," Tay ventured lamely, wincing when Vayrsila snorted at him.
"When? There's a great lot of difference between touching the surface of the water and sticking a hand in, you know that. All I'm trying to say is, if you're not going to go full out, don't even start. You'll only hurt yourself and Cour, and you're not the kind to ever get over that even if he did forgive you."
Vayrsila paused. So did his fingers. Tay heard him draw a long, gentle breath. "You love him, don't you?"
Slowly, Tay's head started to swing from side to side; then it gave up and nodded once, truthfully. Flushing hotly, Tay drew his knees up and hid his face in them, cringing under the soft laughter this produced. Tay tried to be angry with this casual disregard of his embarrassment and failed as the hands slid back in.
"Tay, I'm not making fun of you," Vayrsila went on seriously. "You don't have to take everything as an affront. It was a question, and I'm glad you do. Just try to take more chances, hm? Think how it could be if you take a chance and talk to him, and he loves you too. Wouldn't that be worth a little embarrassment?"
Tay sent him a skeptical look from behind his knees.
"Fine, a lot of embarrassment. Believe it or not, I was in this position once, and I do know how it goes."
"But you were born here," Tay ventured softly, hugging himself.
"Do you really believe Cour is such an ass as to reject you just because you were born somewhere else? Think about the logic of that, Taydren," Vayrsila said quietly. "Do you really think we're so terrible as that?"
"No." Tay swallowed hard, blinking back the damp beginnings of tears that had gathered under his eyelashes. His throat ached. "I like everyone here. But I still don't know what anyone thinks of me. Everything is so different, and I know you and my tribe didn't get along. I can't read minds, Tané, what am I to think?"
"Think of us as you think of yourself," Vayrsila suggested gently. "We are not so different in spirit, pirit. Only in customs. Think of whether or not you would judge yourself so harshly. And please, try to give us a chance. We have never hated you, even when we were unsure of you."
"Yes, sir," Taydren agreed, wiping his eyes and trying to mask the movement by brushing back his hair at the same time. Vayrsila smiled. Tay had the unsettling feeling that he had seen through the feeble attempt at cover.
"Good. Now go work on that rope of yours some more."
