We walked for a while, and at a very quick pace—Janus singing softly, Lydia humming along, and Merrolis and I listening with good distain. My brain was racked with questions still, and as the hours wore on, one question became four, and four became eight, until I could no longer keep count of them. Where was Chopin? How long would it be before Azrael’s blood dripped on one of the countless knotted yarns in Bristol’s possession? If Bristol got free, would she care enough to come after us? Would the Grimwelds kill Merrolis if they saw him? Would Moritat be upon us soon? A great many more questions floated about my consciousness, but they had been atrophied by time, and I could no longer grasp them fully.

Finally—when I could no longer stand the singing, humming, and lack of conversation—I turned to Lydia.

“What’s Kivepyatev like...?” I asked. Lydia, who seemed quite content to demonstrate her varied knowledge, immediately delved into a story.

“Well, y’know how the forest has fertile soil and everything. And with the ocean so close, it’s real temperate, right? The people in Kivepyatev, they started out as botanists and herbologists... well, a long time ago, they realized plants can induce different effects in humans—”

“After a bit of experimentation with poppies,” Janus said with a smirk.

“Sure... I dunno, I’m no expert on the history...” she said, pouting. Janus picked up for her without preamble, seeming not to notice her offense at his interruption.

“Fortunately, I am,” he said, touching his chest. “When herbologists realized that plants and animals both ran along a similar scientific bloodline, scientists from the North came, bringing little-known sciences like studies of macromolecules, and micromolecules, and photosynthesis that had very little credit beforehand. Herbology metamorphosed into integral development of medicines to treat the various pandemics plaguing the Empire and its surrounding dimensions....” Here he paused and rolled his eyes, smiling slightly.

“Needless to say, the Orcadian Empire was very willing to endorse these scientists so that—in later years—they could tax them to poverty.” He finished, almost with the slightest hint of distaste. I frowned.

“It doesn’t seem like anyone likes the Empire...” I said slowly. Janus laughed.

“Well, of course not! We as humans are wired to hate any single authority that keeps us all in line. The Empire is an iron fist among arthritic fingers. The Empire has conquered lands other worlds daren’t even put names to. If the Empire were to fall today, we all may as well go home to our comfortable bedrooms and play Russian Roulette with a loaded pistol. Elsewise, our neighbor would off us for our food with no repercussion,” he said, punctuating the statement with a bitter laugh. I raised a brow. Perhaps this man was more mad than I’d given him credit for.

“Well... back to my original question, I guess...” I said tentatively, turning to Lydia instead. “What’s Kivepyatev like?” Lydia eagerly took Janus’ place.

“You’ll see in a few minutes,” she said, her limbs rife with a newfound vigor. She hurried ahead, her arms swinging alternatively, as if to propel her forward in a more timely fashion. Even Merrolis—shaggy, filthy, and exhausted—picked up his lope. The prospect of the town being so near—the town Merrolis swore I’d be safe within, the town with doctors, hot baths, and good food—made me giddy. The hopes in the small coterie soared as a massive observatory came into sight. I smiled and pointed.

“Look!”

“That’s generally what observatories are for...” Janus drawled. I frowned.

“No, I mean, we’re getting close...” I said, huddling closer to Merrolis to refrain from revealing my mortified blush.

“Of course we are...” Janus said, pointing to a dirt road, paved with age, that lead directly into a fairly large city, nestled in the vast valley I’d been traversing for so long. One look at the city and my heart fluttered. “You know what that means?” He asked, still pointing as we got closer.

“That I’m safe from Moritat...” I said, relieved. Janus shook his head.
“What? No. No, cities mean food...” Janus said, tisking. “He’s a shapeshifting Hellion, Lenore. He’s an Amarynthos... they’re like demi-gods. If you think hiding in a scientific community in the forest is going to save you from a sociopathic, going-to-murder-you-in-your-sleep demi-god who you used to be married to, you’re nuts. And speaking of!” He said grandly, before I could argue. He thereafter gesticulated grandly to a large building, farther behind the wooded city.

“Windsborough Asylum—your husband stayed there a while. A year, I think? Really, Lenore, settle down with a nice artist next time. Someone who won’t end up with homocidal thoughts about his loved one,” Janus said, strutting into the town with very little care as to where he was going. I scowled.

“I didn’t—” I began, but he cut me off by pointing at another large building—this one much closer. It was elaborate, with a great many windows and gardens, and the monolithic granite plaque above the door read ‘St. Bartholomew’s Sanitarium.’

“There you are, Lenore. A hospital,” he said as-a-matter-of-factly, before swaggering nearer and nearer to a well-built house in the middle of the town. It was bordered by a white picket fence and had a stone-paved road leading up to it—the only road in town, it seemed. It lead from the woods near the far off asylum, past the sturdy house, and forked; one prong lead up to the sanitarium, and the other lead out of the city, between the mountains, with a beaten old sign marked ‘coast.’

“This house here?” Janus continued, gesturing to the lovely house he was approaching. “It’s the Arch Lector’s house. I’m going to take Merrolis over and have us recognized here in the town so we can stay over there—” he said this while pointing to a cluster of houses, shops, and bakeries tucked away behind the hospital and Arch Lector’s residence —“they call it the ‘Servant’s Village’, but the name’s a bit misleading. It’s where visitors and workers stay... you know, gardiners, cooks, maids, strays...” he paused and smirked, biting his lip. I had the distinct impression he was holding something back, but decided it was best not to ask. I made to ask him a question when he finally finished: “maids, strays, and homocidal maniacs.”

Acid rose in my throat, but Lydia only laughed.

“Don’t be silly—Moritat won’t show up around here. Merrolis said so. He’d be disowned...” Lydia said, as though Janus should know better. Janus helped me off of Merrolis’ back carefully, leaning me on Lydia’s shoulder.

“Who ever said I was talking about Moritat?” He asked, before smirking and sauntering off, Merrolis—still a bear—at his heels. I decided to ignore the comment and talk about something else.

“People won’t be frightened to see a bear walking around?” I asked as Lydia and I began the long, painful trek to the hospital. It wasn’t, in actuality, a very long way, but the blinding pain in my leg that flared each time I set it down made every inch seem like a mile.

“Maybe... it’s a good thing no one’s awake about now...” Lydia said, looking around. “Merrolis seems like a sensible man—he’ll probably change back before entering the Arch Lector’s house,” she said, her voice becoming hoarse with fatigue. I didn’t blame her; by now, my limbs were shaking and I felt quite ill. The fact that my leg was broken didn’t help matters.

“What’s an Arch Lector...?” I asked as we stepped carefully onto the paved road. Lydia smiled brightly.

“It’s a Imperial official who inhabits an area that the Empire is subsidizing,” she explained, her eyes becoming wide almost instantly, her irises completely encircled by a ring of white. “They make sure that the community is helping the government, y’know? And doing what they’re supposed to. They’re pretty scary men, usually...” she said, looking forward again. “Never met one, though....”

We spent the rest of the walk mostly in silence, the sanitarium coming blessedly closer and closer into view. Finally, what felt like a full half hour later (but must’ve only been ten minutes,) we made it to the large double-doors of the hospital and walked inside.

A charge nurse with large brown eyes sat behind a hefty redwood desk. Her hair was swept up in a bun and concealed beneath a conservative nursing cap, not unlike the cotton bonnets worn by modest Puritans I’d seen in pictures. She had a white cotton gown that buttoned up to her neck, and stood out in stark contrast with the darker brown tones of the sanitarium. She looked up upon hearing the door and stood.

“How may I help you?” She asked immediately, smiling at each of us in an almost demeaning manner.

“My friend needs a doctor...” Lydia said, helping me up to the charge nurse. “She’s broken her leg...” she said. The charge nurse’s eyes widened.

“Is that a bullet wound...? Do I need to alert the constables? Is there a felon in the city?” She asked carefully, studying the bullet hole with wary eyes.

“No,” I said quickly. I figured if I explained the entire story, it’d be inevitable that I’d be exposed as Lenore. And that was the last thing I needed on the same day I’d broken my leg and been shot. “No, I was hunting with my family. We had...” I winced as both wounds found new ways to throb in terrible pain. “Can I... please just have a doctor...?” I said at last.

The charge nurse reached into a cranny behind her. Within it was a thick bellpull that she promptly wrapped her hand around and tugged. I strained to hear something—anything—that might have resulted from the tugging, but heard nothing. Within minutes, however, a man hurried down the Eastern staircase, flanked by two women. The women both wore the conservative uniform of a period nurse, and the man in front—with a fine beige suit on—had a thick case in his hand.

He looked from the charge nurse to Lydia and I.

“What’s your emergency?” He asked as the two women laid down the light gurney they’d been carrying and rushed to my side. I uneasily laid down in it as Lydia explained, excitement bubbling in her hurried tones.

“My friend, she broke her leg and was accidentally shot while hunting, see. We got it splinted by a local physician, but we need it fixed...” she said, hurrying to keep up with the nurses who were now carting me at a quick pace down a corridor on the Western side of the building.

The corridor was large, with tall, wide windows that stretched from the chair rail almost to the ceiling. There was no glass in the windows, so fresh air and a flowery smell wafted in from the gardens outside. It was enough to take my mind off the frenzied chatter of the doctor and Lydia.

“How long ago was she shot?”

“About... I think three hours, maybe?” Lydia said. The doctor’s reaction was not promising, and the gurney seemed to hurtle along at an even faster speed. Soon I was in another room—very long, like the corridor. It had the same large windows, only these had glass inlaid, and the room was lined with cots separated by desks littered with clean utensils on fresh linen. It was then that I suddenly became very alarmed.

This world’s medicine was nowhere near as advanced as mine had been.

I thought, with a queasy stomach, back to the instruments in the back of the curio—instruments used to amputate limbs that had been shot or badly broken. A wave of nausea flooded over me and I collapsed further into the gurney with a groan. I watched without really seeing as Lydia was ushered out of the hall quickly by an irate nurse, and as even more nurses readied syringes and cloths, tied on masks and washed their hands in a basin by a nearby window. I looked around the wooden room—the sepia room so alien in comparison to the sterile white and blue I’d always related with hospitals—and felt dizzy.

A large urn—what appeared to be a hookah—was pulled from the desk with the instruments on top of it. The nurse who held it placed it on the floor then took the long tube in her hand. Without explanation, she placed a plug on my nose and shoved the mask onto my face. I panicked, initially, upon trying to breathe in what felt like warm, humid air. After quite a few minutes of racing thoughts, however, I felt myself slipping into a musty darkness.

And then, nothing.

~*~

Nothing, nothing, nothing... black, dark, dim, grey, faded, and....

I whined in pain before twisting to my side and retching miserably. Waking up from Nothing really sucked a lot more than I’d have guessed. My throat felt sore and scratchy, my head felt stuffed with cotton, and I—in general—felt like I’d been hit by a truck. And I certainly knew what that felt like.

I tried to look out the window behind me but quickly closed my eyes against the blinding sunlight. I moaned and turned away from the vomit, suddenly regretting that I’d puked in my own bed. A hand touched mine and I jumped, my stomach tensing.

“Hey...” came a soft, female voice. It sounded very familiar, and at first, I couldn’t place it. After tentatively opening my eyes, however, a friendly, raven-haired woman slowly swam into view. I smiled weakly.

“Loriya...” I said, my voice hoarse. Loriya smirked.

“You look like hell,” was all she said. I laughed weakly.

“I feel like it. I don’t even think I felt this bad when I broke my leg in the first place...” I muttered. Loriya smiled and smoothed out my hair.

“The doctor says you severed integral nerves there...” she cooed. “You won’t be able to feel sections of your leg... not like it matters, right? It’ll be in this new splint for a while....” She trailed off before standing as a nurse came by to clean the vomit. I frowned.

“So I came all this way to get a new splint...?”

“The doctors performed what’s called ‘osteoclasis.’ It’s where they break the bone to realign it properly... not so easy with two bones there, I’m sure...” she said, smiling at the nurse. “Give the good doctor our thanks.” The nurse nodded, gently pulling the soiled linen from beneath me and walking away with it.

“What about the bullet...?” I asked. Loriya tilted her head towards the desk with the instruments. The instruments were now fairly bloody, and amongst them was a firm bullet, dark with venal blood.

“The doctors say you were fortunate that it didn’t puncture your femoral artery...” she said. “The bullet was able to have been retrieved, however, a good amount of tissue was removed as well...” she said, a slight disgust seeming to take over her features. I was struck with a macabre interest, and went to look under the blankets. I frowned as I saw only thick, white bandages.

“You’ll see it soon enough,” she said. “And you’ll regret it, too.” I smirked.

“It’s disgusting, then?” I asked. She nodded.

“Undeniably,” she affirmed.

“Neat,” I said, pulling the blankets around me. “Why’d they give me a hookah?” I asked, but just as soon as I’d said it, Loriya errupted into laughter.

“A hookah?”

“It’s what it looked like...” I muttered.

“It was an ether urn... they used it to put you to sleep.... You know, they didn’t always have it? My grandfather would tell stories about men having to bite down on a soft lead bullet during operations in the war...” she said, then shuddered. “I couldn’t imagine it.”

Loriya and I spoke for a while, and during that time, she insisted that I tell her everything that had happened to me since we’d been separated. I told her about everything—about Richard McGee, Lydia, Julian, Lydia’s bird, and then—

“Moritat?” Loriya said incredulously. “He’s my cousin... I... I did know that he was angry with you about the fire accident, but... I didn’t know he was actually going to kill you...” she frowned, her face becoming all the more lined. “It seems... irrational. Insane.”

“He is insane,” I said spitefully. “He shot me just seconds after having a conversation with his brother.”

“Yes, I did see that Merrolis came with you... I was quite shocked to see him wearing Moritat’s greatcoat...” she murmured. Before I could reply, a nurse approached, looking quite goaded. She held out her arm impatiently.

“Come on, now,” she said. “I’ll take you to the recovery room.”

Slowly and tenderly, Loriya helped me out of my cot and onto the nurse’s waiting arm. We travelled through the surgery room and into another long corridor—this one with more windows without glass. A pleasant breeze drifted through it, and sounds of cooing mothers, gurgling babies, and laughing children lingered in the air, as though tangible. I smiled slightly as I was laid down in a new bed.

“How long ‘till I recover?” I asked the nurse, rubbing my throat.

“A few weeks,” she said, pulling the sheets up to my chest in a mechanical motion. “But the hospital’s been quite crowded as of late—we’ve been quarantining sections of the sanitorium for consumption patients. The doctor says you’ll be well enough to send out tomorrow and recover at home,” she explained without much sympathy before straightening and turning away, presumably to either help another patient or sneak into an abandoned room for a hit of the ether urn. She seemed the type.

Loriya watched the woman go with slight disdain.

“I bet she sneaks off to smoke the ether hookah,” she said dryly. I laughed. Loriya turned to look at me and raised a brow. “What?”

“Nothing, Loriya. Just figured out why we’re friends, is all.”

~ * ~

Several bland hospital meals and painful rebandaging sessions later, the day came for me to finally leave the sanitorium. I felt a few pangs of sadness as I thought about my friends. Lydia, Janus... no one had come to visit, other than Loriya. But in that time, we’d formed a powerful bond... mainly on the basis of how much we hated other people.

“The way she talks through her nose like that...”

“Almost makes you want to smash her face in with a brick.”

“Hah! Yeah, exactly!”

“You and I, Lenore—we can break her face the second we get out of here....” She’d emphasize this with a violent gesture. It was after quite a few talks like these that I decided Loriya was better than Lydia, anyway.

“So... are you excited?” Loriya asked on the day I was to leave, leaning forward in her chair and smirking. “Finally out of here....”

“It’ll be nice,” I said, wincing and propping myself up on my pillow. “What about you? Excited to go to Malringer?” Loriya rolled her eyes.

“You know how much fun it’s been, breaking your leg, getting shot, and staying in a hospital?”

“Ah... no?”

“I’d rather do that ten times than go to Malringer once.” She said, voice saturated with vitriol. My eyes widened.

“Why? I thought you said you wanted to go?”

“I want consistant baths, warm food, and a soft place to sleep. I should have been clear—I want to be in Malringer because it’s more comfortable than sleeping in the woods. What I don’t want is to see my family, collected, each of them raving about a different political issue for three days straight,” she muttered, grimacing. I frowned.

“Sounds pretty God-awful.”

“No kidding,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Not to mention the fact that I can’t stand half of them. Probably more than half; Merrolis and Randolph among them.”

“Merrolis...? Why him? He seems nice...” I said softly. Loriya snorted derisively.

“‘Nice’ is certainly one word... but it isn’t the one I’d use. ‘Craven’, maybe. Scared, shifty, untrustworthy. You know if his blood hadn’t have been on that yarn, he wouldn’t have gotten it for you?

“The only reason he’s travelling with you is because you’re his key to being accepted into the family again. You’re the Athanasian everyone wants—especially Randolph. If he brings you to Randolph, he’ll be rewarded. Not with the money Daragoy is seeking, but the honor he lost by being incarcerated...” Loriya said darkly. As I listened, my heart pounded in my chest and my breathing became more shallow.

“He’s a dirty, rotten little sneak, Lenore. He was arrested for a reason.” I let what she said settle in me like sediment in stale water. I suddenly felt ill—and not only because I’d just pictured raw sediment settling in my stomach. Merrolis was a felon?

“I was arrested...” I said, quietly. Loriya shook her head.

“You tried to kill a man that tried to kill you.”

“I know, but—”

“Merrolis is a disloyal, timorous fool who stole from an allied family for his own ends,” Loriya murmured venemously. I felt uncomfortable, sitting and listening to her scathe one of her own with such ease. But curiousity bade me inquire further.

“What did he steal?” I asked slowly. Loriya looked at me for a moment, her expression impossible to describe. It wasn’t until she’d shifted into a more comfortable position that I knew she’d answer. Now, however, I wondered if I still really wanted to know.