AGH. Okay, this is just a chapter fix for now. I'm still typing up a lot of stuff and dealing with...gah, quite a lot. I "typed" this using voice recognition software that truly sucks and never got a chance to edit it until twenty minutes ago. I don't know when I'll update next, but rest assured, I will update. I have chapters written that I need to type using the normal method and good proofreading.

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Chapter Thirty-Two:
Time to Talk (None)

Iogoem was clean and dry. Thusly 'attired', she had a different complexion, although the matted ropes of hair had turned out to be the most natural state for her hair. The hair-ropes had shampooed clean with little difficulty though, and hung limply over her shoulders, threatening to drip on the dress that Kvara had kindly lent. Asking for little girls' raiment had depleted Gareth's reserves against embarrassment for the rest of the day. However, it was a serviceable, modest dress that Iogoem was currently quite in love with, which validated his effort. She twirled until he reached out to hold her still, dizzy by association. "Alright, don't make yourself sick."

"It's a real dress, Mommy!" she cried, replacing the twirl with a small flapping motion that involved the hem. Gareth had fared even worse when he'd been forced to ask Kvara for little girl… bloomers, but the woman had settled for understanding amusement where another might have been outraged. Taking care of a child involved dressing it, of course, he knew this—but this city had presented the first chance, long after it had been noticeable or necessary.

"We'll get you more dresses, he promised. "Better ones." He wasn't certain how or when they would bring this about, but surely Card would think of something… Guilt began to arrest Gareth's throat again.

Iogoem didn't seem to notice. "They can be better?" She almost started to twirl again, but then she locked herself in the same catlike stillness she had shown earlier that day. It held for a moment or two, transforming her into a lightly breeding statue. Then she raised one thin arm to tug Gareth's sleeve. "I'm all cleaned."

"Yes… You are." He gave her a dubious look, then tried to smile. "Do you want to go see Daddy now?" Perhaps he could just apologize. Explain that it had been a confused moment, that it would never happen again, in whole or in part. Even though there was a certain part that he wanted to repeat, if only he could. He held a hand over his mouth and forced his eyes to stay open.

The tiny female voice at his side dragged him back to the moment. "Since I'm clean, can I play with the baby? He looked like a very big baby birdbeast. The ott kind that have no wings."

He wasn't sure what she meant, but between his guilty haze and the regular befuddlement she caused, he didn't think he'd figure it out on his own. He smiled faintly and let her out of the Innkeeper's private back room—another loaned item that would probably alter their bill—and then knelt to speak with her on an even level. "He's a person, just like you. Er, I mean, he's just as important as you are. He has a mommy and daddy, and they want him to stay safe and happy, just like what me and… And your… Daddy w-want for you. Do you understand?"

For a moment, there was little sign that she did. Many of the smaller cuts and scrapes that could be cared for in easily shone angrily on her scrubbed, flushed skin, the worse injuries mocking the world as they waited to be sent away by a healer. Gareth determined to make up with Card, if only to engage his help in a healer search. A light breeze that smelled of sausages and on washed bodies sailed delicately into the in through a nearby window, rustling the ruffles on the little blue dress, and Gareth's own attire, but barely nudging Iogoem's hair. She reached up to grip a few knotted ropes, and he wondered if she'd like a ribbon. "I don't want to eat him, Mommy," she said, her voice laden with almost condescending patience.

Gareth repressed a laugh, and allowed himself are relieved sigh. "I—I have to talk to, er, Daddy. Do you think… Would you mind keeping Kvara's husband and the baby company?"

Her eyes lit up, he'd said it right. He only home to think of the right way to ask Kvara's husband would take care of Iogoem. He hated the idea of leaving her with someone else, it made his jaw feel like it was full of holes. But she couldn't sit in the background, while he and Card… worked things out. There was no telling what violence the Fairy would get up to.

Still convincing himself, he took Iogoem's hand and walked with her to the receiving area. Kvara was there, her husband standing in a corner and looking casually lethal. The baby sat on the rug, banging on the floor with his wooden horse and burbling. Gareth waved, feeling more than a little foolish, and then fussed with Iogoem's hair, absentmindedly trying to make a ruckus for presentable.

"Would you speak, sir?" the husband rumbled, his deep voice belying his slight frame and average height. "It makes me edge to watch you putter like that."

Gareth laughed and felt a bit better. "I wondered if—"

"Can I play with the baby?" Iogoem pulled free of his grasp, possibly spraining his fingers. "He's so pretty. Like a statue thing, only soft-seeming." It didn't make any sense, but she said it sweetly, with a smile, and it ended up looking like a compliment. The parents smiled back at her, one more wary than the other, and then Kvara's husband left his corner to next to the baby.

He motioned her over, and she had the sense to creep over with shy slowness. Gareth watched in amazement as the man introduced himself as Adonarin and patiently tutored Iogoem until she could say and marginally remember the first two sounds. Then he told for the baby was called Small Koa, and several other things that were swept up and lost as Iogoem contributed to the conversation, sitting on her haunches and eyeing and the Imps with focused interest.

Gareth walked over to the edge of the desk nearest the stairs, his mood lifting gradually. He leaned on the desk, wincing as the unyielding wood dug flatly into his arms. "He doesn't seem worried about Chupali."

"Not that one, sir." Kvara smiled, showing off a sharpness to her teeth that, while insignificant in comparison to Iogoem's razor mouth, was considerable intimidation. "A child as a child, I suppose. And she is tamed to you."

"She isn't a pet." The notion was disturbing when other people observed it. He shot her an indignant scowl before he could think better of it. "Not at all."

Kvara merely rolled her eyes. There was very little white in them. "Oh, of course." She nodded towards the stairs. "Your man has need of you. Would you trust mine to watch over your little windflower?"

The protest died half-formed as Gareth digested the changed situation. "Yes, I—I think I do. But why does Card need me?"

"It wouldn't do for me to say out in the open, sir. Just go to him." There was no leer. If she'd at least cracked a grin, then he might have been able to draw up embarrassment or discomfort. Yet she displayed only an irritated professional detachment, albeit colored by impatience. Gareth looked over at Iogoem, waved until he caught her eye, and promised to return in a matter of moments. She blew him a kiss and went back to cooing at Small Koa.

The staircase felt simultaneously longer and shorter. Gareth took the steps two or three at a time, and was shocked when he reached the landing. The hall was mercilessly free of people, and therefore held no distractions. He sucked in his stomach, puffed out his chest, felt like an idiot, and slumped his way to the room. His imagination juxtaposed his heart over the door, making it pulse and throb been his vision until he blinked in cleared away the personal illusion. It didn't lessen the intimidation of the door or what lay behind it. He scolded himself as a ninny and pushed his way past it, barely remembering to turn the knob.

Once inside, he shut the door and nursed his sore shoulder. The curtains were drawn, and Card was nowhere to be seen. At least, he wasn't standing or sitting anywhere. Gareth's approached the lump in the blanket, then sagged gingerly on the other side of the bed. Card didn't make a sound. He didn't even grunt or tell Gareth to go away.

"What's wrong?" His voice shook, which annoyed him. It was worse than weakness.

The lump shifted as Card turn to lie on his other side and face and Gareth. He pulled the blanket down off his head and made a face that suggested someone had just tried to stuff a parsnip up his nose. "What was going through your big fat head?"

Gareth's felt a prickly obstruction forming in his throat. He almost asked when, but that would have been the wrong thing to say. It would just be wasting time. He stared at the rumpled sheets. "Part of it was… I don't understand it." The other part was clearer, but he didn't want to explore that in verbal discussion. It was too awkward.

"Are you perhaps alluding to your inappropriate advances?" There was an odd quirk to Card's eyebrow that suggested he was about to laugh. It seemed out of place, and it disappeared before Gareth could inquire after its existence. The Fairy sat up and kicked the blankets back, rather weakly. It was impossible to tell if he'd gone pale, but the sunken cheeks were trying to make up for that.

"Those aren't important," Gareth said, hoping that lie sounded better to ears that weren't connected to his head. It didn't seem so. "Why did you call me? You look so…"

"Ill? More of your handiwork, I'm afraid."

"I didn't mean to hurt you…"

Card swore and reached out to push Gareth off the bed. His fingers caught in the Human's shirt and pulled them in opposite directions in several brief, jerky motions. Gareth held him steady, but not quite before they were sitting too close for comfort. The Fairy looked at him with watery eyes that suggested allergies and hinted at something more harming to his health. "Of course you didn't want to hurt me. You just wanted to kill me."

Gareth shook his head, unable to speak. His arms felt numb, and what he could see of his hand was red and nearly swelling. He looked away from it and tried to clear his head. It felt thick and soupy. "I don't want that," he heard himself say. It sounded so much more like him than he'd expected. "I haven't for a long time."

"Then why did you…" The question lay abandoned in the air, an incomplete orphan with an implied ending that either of them could have supplied. Card extracted his fingers from the shirt fabric and sat up a little straighter. "Was it only the lure to a trap?"

Gareth's mouth flapped open once or twice, then shut with a painful clop. That had been… Unexpected. He'd prepared himself to talk about the attack, to explain that he'd felt like a passenger in his own body, but Card had brushed past that, not even waiting for an answer. It called for a renewed search for focus, but nothing provided the necessary opportunity. He cleared his throat. "No."

It could never be so simple. Not even the truth could heal a complicated situation, not one with so many tight knots. It didn't help that the truth itself was clenched in at least as many knots, some tighter than others. Card used his legs and arms to shift his position, to turn himself away. He didn't speak right away. He held the moment in hand, possibly analyzing it until Gareth wanted to shake him and spill out the rest of the truth, knots and all.

Several minutes seemed to pass in the space usually set aside for a century. Gareth's calmer mental faculties informed him that it had only been two and a half minutes so far, but he still chewed his bottom lip. "I don't want to be alone." That didn't sound like him. Of course it was his own voice, and he'd felt all the relevant muscles move, and the vibrations as the words left him, but it didn't seem right. He was not worried about being left alone, he was quite confident that he'd never have to. Card was right there in front of him, and Iogoem was downstairs learning how to be a child. They would stay together.

"You odd man. Why do you talk like that?"

"I don't know." His hand ached, as though someone whose weight exceeded that of a house had sat on it. He tried to massage the ache away but it continued, worsening slightly. "It isn't me," he said, surprised by the effort it took to speak. "I don't worry about that." He gasped and clutched his hand. His entire arm was burning hot and cold, buzzing with sharp staccato pains under the skin.

He cried out, then looked up at Card, who was watching him with wide red eyes. "What…?" Then he snapped his mouth shut and grabbed Gareth's arm. His hair lifted and curled, practically shaking itself free of the sweat that had matted it down. Light crackled from one strand to another as he muttered an incantation. Gareth only half-heard it, but what reached his ears seems to pass through a filter that made him feel he was dreaming. It was a familiar feeling, although the words were foreign and new. He caught the meaning more than the sound, but he seemed to need both arm in arm. So much of the short repeated phrases involved restoration and truth. Some of them were overly simple, while the rest merely made no sense. But the pain in his arm was beginning to ebb and flow out of him.

After it had dulled to the point of nonexistence, he opened his eyes and smiled at Card, relief streaming down the side of his face with a few trickles of sweat. "What did you do?"

"Something you should have already asked me to take care of," Card growled, holding up a necklace. His other hand remained on Gareth's arm, a friendly pressure edged with anxiety. Both of his hands were shaking. "When did you get this?"

Gareth stared at it. The necklace was familiar, but not the way he was looking at it. He'd only seen it in his dreams. He blinked and reached out to touch it or even take it, but Card yanked it out of reach, so roughly it seemed that he intended to throw it. The quick movement snapped Gareth partway out of his daze. He blanked again, this time gaining some clarity. "I don't remember being given it."

"Do you know where you got it?" Card looked like he wanted to swear. "Who could – how long have you had this?!" The features of his face that had sunk seemed to rise back out again as color sprang to his face.

Not certain which question took priority, Gareth stuttered through an answer to the latter. " I-I-I don't kn-know. After we found Iogoem…m-maybe…?" There was a gap in his memory surrounding the necklace that made him feel like he'd been put into a cage and was banging his head on the bars. "That sounds right. I guess."

"Where did—who gave it to you?!" The Fairy's voice had gotten shrill, which was almost as disturbing as the way the pendant hanging from the necklace appeared to swing towards Gareth. He tore his eyes away from it and forced his mind to conform to the conversation.

It would have been an easier task if he hadn't felt like the skin on his arm had been peeled away and replaced with fresh new skin. He looked down at it and saw no reason to worry. "From…" At the back of his mind, he had always intended to tell Card about Nayeli, but the opportunity had never presented itself, and he generally forgot about her when he was awake. Thinking that made him wonder if he should have felt guilty. After all, she had implored him to help her, to grant her wish. He hadn't done much to fulfill anything on her behalf. "A woman gave it to me. But that was in a dream." He realized he was chuckling. "No creature can affect anyone across such a barrier. Not physically."

Card reached up with his free hand to taking Gareth's shoulder and squeeze, then turned him. As soon as the man was sufficiently positioned, Card pushed him back onto the pillow. "Of course not," he agreed, quietly pulling himself free of the rest of the bedding until he could stand beside the bed. He walked to the side Gareth was lying on, then crouched to eyeball him. Gareth met the gaze mostly with his peripheral vision. "No living creature could hold such influence. What was this woman?"

"A Fairy."

The sharp indrawn breath was as jarring as a knock on the door. Card shot up out of his crotch and grabbed Gareth by the collar, an angry flush staining his white cheeks so bright he looked as though he'd fallen in a wine press. "What was her name?"

Gareth tried to squirm out of the iron-bending grasp, then stopped when he realized that the axe was in the corner of the room, and it was vibrating excitedly. He swallowed audibly, then looked back up at Card, his mind focused to a keen point. "She told me to call her Nayeli. Is—" He let out a painful whoof as he slammed onto the mattress. Card's face so close to his that it was impossible to feel the air in the small spaces between them. "Card?"

In the following moments, he was aware of three things: the Fairy's face was tightening into an expression that suggested a helpless sob was happening somewhere inside him, he needed a good strong hug full of unbiased comfort, and Gareth would never be able to stop wanting to give and take so much more than that with him. He moved his arms and tried to start with the one thing he understood.

But first, he had to fight to maintain the hug, but just when he thought his arms were going to give in and pop off, Card went slack against his chest and let out an angry, strangled groan that almost trickled into a whimper. Then he lay still, breathing softly. Neither of them spoke until a knock shattered the almost-comfortable silence. Gareth and groaned and swore under his breath, then let his arms listen and fall away from Card entirely. "I'll get it," he said softly, very slightly irritated. They had turned onto a path he could not help liking very much, but having been knocked right off of it, he found himself lying in a prickly bush lined with questions.

Through a series of movements that might have seemed less complicated if Gareth had been in a more sensible state, Card stood up. The knocker announced his or her presence on the other side of the door again. Card reached up and tossed with his hair as he walked to the door. "Yes?" he said, once he had it open.

A sweet smell fairly blasted into the room and he staggered backwards a few steps. Gareth was on his feet with his hand to the place he had formerly kept his dagger before he could draw another breath. He began cursing his lack of arms, but was interrupted by a stream of words.

"It's called perfume, Daddy! Ka-somebody-pretty gave it me and she says it's lovely and I'm a real lady now even though she can tell I've only seven winters and I'm little and short and the baby likes me, Daddy!" Iogoem pause to take a deep, rather loud breath, and then looked up from the tackled Fairy. "Hi, Mommy. It snapped time, so I have to let Koa sleep."

Behind her, still in the hallway and looking thoroughly amused, was Adonarin. He stood with the quiet air of a bodyguard used to the talkative, affectionate sort of charge. After a gesture of and knowledge meant that passed from and to each of the men, Adonarin said, "Your young one is welcome among the staff. You may accompany her if you wish." Then he bid them a very polite, if somehow cheeky farewell, and bowed himself out of sight.

Iogoem sat on the floor and resumed talking. Cards sat in front of her, tenderly paying close attention, but occasionally looking over his shoulder at Gareth, an odd look on his face. It was an expression that spoke volumes, yet every word was in a language Gareth could never learn. Still, he imagined that each glance conveyed a sense of annoyed longing, a thought he didn't honestly know what to do with. He sighed and sat on the bed, listening to Card struggle through a lie after Iogoem asked him why he "looked so sick." The air in the city disagreed with him, indeed. Gareth nearly snorted. Card had said it was something he, Gareth had done.

He wished he had a clue regarding what it was so he could fix it. Seen Card looked defeated like that was terrifying in a way that descended past bone-deep.