kicked Korl. Instead, she asked her sister-in-life to make them tea, had to practically force her from the room. “We’ll take care of her,” she promised.
Mahri laid her hands on top of Korl’s and even her concern couldn’t dull the feeling that swept through her at even that innocent contact. She heard him take another deep breath as she Saw into the child, knowing that the dark things eating at her body needed to be destroyed but unable to determine where to even start.
“You See them?” he asked.
“See what?”
“Those spiked shapes—See how they attack and change the normal, healthy cells?”
“Aya, I… I think so. How do we stop them?”
His gaze met hers, intense with purpose. “We Push them to here,” he pointed with his finger to the organ that cleaned out the body. “You start here, me here.”
Mahri nodded and began to Push. She felt no satisfaction when her Pushing exceeded his, no pride at her superior Power, for she had little control, root-fried as she was; whereas Korl had total control but little Power. In the end, there were too many of the buggers, they clogged the organ and spread back out too quickly. She cursed. In silent agreement they then tried to Push them out of the body altogether but like grains of sand slipping through fingers too many eluded them, and then they multiplied even faster.
Korl caught his chin in his hand and frowned. “We can attack them directly.”
Mahri shook her head. “How? They change their shape and by the time you’ve got ’em cleared out, you need to go back in and do it all over. That’s if you can recognize their new shape in time.” She turned on him, hands on hips. “What d’you think I needed you for? You’re supposed to have the knowledge to deal with this.”
“Listen, water-rat…”
Sh’ra moaned from the bed and her long-lashed eyes opened to stare blindly at her aunt. Sea green eyes, just like her own Tal’li. Mahri smoothed back the chestnut curls from the child’s forehead, felt the silky down of a rounded cheek and was overwhelmed by a sharp memory of her son.
Tal’li had loved to catch fly-fish, his little hands clapping at air while they swirled around him in columns of delicate wings. When he laughed she would always laugh with him—so infectious, that staccato chuckle. And if he managed to catch one, he’d carry it straight to her, his little back stiff with pride, and lay it in her lap as if he presented her with the rarest of treasures.
“Do you like to fly-fish?” she whispered to her niece. Her voice strangled against a sob. “But I’ve never taken you, have I? Make it through this, little one, and I promise I will.”
But those lids closed, like Tal’li’s had closed, with a sweep of finality. Mahri looked up at Korl, caught him staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.
“Save her,” she whispered.
He nodded. Once. “We’ll attack them indirectly, then.”
“How?”
“Look at it backwards. Instead of killing them off, we stimulate the antibodies, make them stronger.” He pressed her hand against the child’s chest. “See into her system, here? The virus is surrounded by these white cells, the body’s defensive system, and they’re killing ’em—but too slowly. There aren’t enough of the antibodies.”
Mahri struggled to understand. “They’re like warrior’s —but they’re outnumbered. Can we stimulate them enough so that they make more?”
“Reproduction? We don’t have that kind of knowledge, Mahri. But,” the Healer snapped his fingers. “We could give her some more antibodies, that might work.”
“Reinforcements!”
“Yes. The mother’s antibodies might have a better chance of working, being more compatible. The same blood type.”
Mahri’s head spun with questions. Antibodies… and what’s a blood type? To have access to such knowledge, what she wouldn’t give for that! She turned to fetch Caria when a touch on her arm stopped her. He stared sadly
Mahri laid her hands on top of Korl’s and even her concern couldn’t dull the feeling that swept through her at even that innocent contact. She heard him take another deep breath as she Saw into the child, knowing that the dark things eating at her body needed to be destroyed but unable to determine where to even start.
“You See them?” he asked.
“See what?”
“Those spiked shapes—See how they attack and change the normal, healthy cells?”
“Aya, I… I think so. How do we stop them?”
His gaze met hers, intense with purpose. “We Push them to here,” he pointed with his finger to the organ that cleaned out the body. “You start here, me here.”
Mahri nodded and began to Push. She felt no satisfaction when her Pushing exceeded his, no pride at her superior Power, for she had little control, root-fried as she was; whereas Korl had total control but little Power. In the end, there were too many of the buggers, they clogged the organ and spread back out too quickly. She cursed. In silent agreement they then tried to Push them out of the body altogether but like grains of sand slipping through fingers too many eluded them, and then they multiplied even faster.
Korl caught his chin in his hand and frowned. “We can attack them directly.”
Mahri shook her head. “How? They change their shape and by the time you’ve got ’em cleared out, you need to go back in and do it all over. That’s if you can recognize their new shape in time.” She turned on him, hands on hips. “What d’you think I needed you for? You’re supposed to have the knowledge to deal with this.”
“Listen, water-rat…”
Sh’ra moaned from the bed and her long-lashed eyes opened to stare blindly at her aunt. Sea green eyes, just like her own Tal’li. Mahri smoothed back the chestnut curls from the child’s forehead, felt the silky down of a rounded cheek and was overwhelmed by a sharp memory of her son.
Tal’li had loved to catch fly-fish, his little hands clapping at air while they swirled around him in columns of delicate wings. When he laughed she would always laugh with him—so infectious, that staccato chuckle. And if he managed to catch one, he’d carry it straight to her, his little back stiff with pride, and lay it in her lap as if he presented her with the rarest of treasures.
“Do you like to fly-fish?” she whispered to her niece. Her voice strangled against a sob. “But I’ve never taken you, have I? Make it through this, little one, and I promise I will.”
But those lids closed, like Tal’li’s had closed, with a sweep of finality. Mahri looked up at Korl, caught him staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.
“Save her,” she whispered.
He nodded. Once. “We’ll attack them indirectly, then.”
“How?”
“Look at it backwards. Instead of killing them off, we stimulate the antibodies, make them stronger.” He pressed her hand against the child’s chest. “See into her system, here? The virus is surrounded by these white cells, the body’s defensive system, and they’re killing ’em—but too slowly. There aren’t enough of the antibodies.”
Mahri struggled to understand. “They’re like warrior’s —but they’re outnumbered. Can we stimulate them enough so that they make more?”
“Reproduction? We don’t have that kind of knowledge, Mahri. But,” the Healer snapped his fingers. “We could give her some more antibodies, that might work.”
“Reinforcements!”
“Yes. The mother’s antibodies might have a better chance of working, being more compatible. The same blood type.”
Mahri’s head spun with questions. Antibodies… and what’s a blood type? To have access to such knowledge, what she wouldn’t give for that! She turned to fetch Caria when a touch on her arm stopped her. He stared sadly
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