After Times of Tender Agony: Ch. 19

A Change in Trajectories

Notes:

We're covering a lot POVs in this chapter! Well, I've done three before, but it's still a bit more than normal. The benefit is we get updates, though not a lot of progress is made in this chapter, I suppose :)

*****

The Warren Downs were the subject of their search, though Sara didn’t feel as though it brought them any closer to truly finding Janner. They had spent two days asking around for any signs of him, then two more riding through them in the event Janner was somewhere else no one had noticed, up and down every hill, through the valleys and crevasses, searching behind what seemed like every clump of swaying grass and hunting meticulously around the circumference of each tree in the few wood-spots they came across. 

When they reined in Lightfoot and Garner for a lunch break, Sara reviewed the words she had practiced several times over in her head, just to make sure the delivery was right. 

“Artham,” she began slowly, after she slid off Lightfoot, the tempo purposeful. He turned and looked at her, and she hoped he would be receptive to her suggestion. She clutched Lightfoot’s reins tighter as if to bolster her resolve. “Janner isn’t here. He’s not in the Warren Downs.”

Artham’s eyes softened, the way they did when he felt the need to comfort someone. “Sara,” he murmured. “Don’t give up on him, not yet. Please. We haven't looked everywhere.”

Sympathy wasn’t the only thing in his voice. Desperation haunted his words, his eyes. It was fair. He hadn't heard Leeli's music in over a week, and he was getting scared; though he hadn't said it outright, he had told her nearly as much that morning.

Sara shook her head. “No, that’s not what I mean. He isn’t gone—I know he isn’t.” Her heart and mind were at peace despite the lack of contact, and something told her it was alright. “But he isn’t here either.” She swept her arm in an arc, gesturing to the whole of the Downs. “I don’t know how I know…but I think we’ve gone too far.”

“How do you mean?” Artham asked, his brow furrowed, but his question didn’t sound dismissive or patronizing.

Encouraged, Sara emboldened her words a bit more. “I don’t know, not exactly. But I know he isn’t here, just as I know he’s still alive. He’s closer to home.”

Now Artham pursed his lips—he had grown worried, possibly doubtful. “But what if he is somewhere here? Following your hunch…doubling back…what if it means we don’t find him in time?”

Sara’s stomach clenched in fear and worry. Some of the resolve and peace fled. She did her best to make up for it with an assisting shake of her head. “Artham,” she stated firmly, holding his gaze. “We passed him. I’m sure of it. We need to go back.”

He stared at her for several moments, then wordlessly slipped off Garner’s back and set to getting a little parcel of dried fruit out of his saddlebags. Opening it, he handed her a few pieces. She took it, waiting for him to get a piece or two for himself, but instead he only stared at the ground, his eyes flickering oddly.

"Artham?" Sara asked nervously. "Are you alright?"

Wordlessly, he held up his hand, asking for silence. Sara watched as he stood and slipped the parcel back into his saddlebag without getting any for himself. She waited in nervous anticipation, focusing on Janner and Artham and whether what she had said would actually be regarded as something of value or not instead of what she hoped Artham was hearing and seeing. Half of her wanted Artham to listen, the other half didn’t. Half her mind was certain of her hunch, the other half doubted it whole-heartedly. 

After what felt like quite a long time, though it could have been very short, Artham finally cleared his throat and with a whisper said, “He’s with someone. A different voice this time, and it sounded friendly. It looked like a bedroom, of some sort, though it was pretty blurry. Leeli said he’s still scared, though. Let’s follow your suggestion, alright? Maybe it’ll get us closer to him, and I hope you’re right about this one. We can start with the towns.”

Stomach churning in fear at the thought of what her being wrong meant, Sara nodded. “Me too,” she replied, not wanting to think of its potential consequences.

*****

Janner thought he felt a little better, physically, at least, even though the fever still stubbornly clung to him, making him hot and cold and both at once and quite often miserable. The lash wounds had healed to the extent that Jebsun allowed him to lay on his back and stay in that position, which made breathing far easier. His head still spun any time he moved it and even a spark of light shot through his mind, blinding him. Sounds hurt too, but not so much since Jebsun made a point of keeping it quiet. The most sound he heard was constant ringing, aside from that, Jebsun’s considerate whisper near his right ear when most communication needed to happen. He didn’t know if his host actually knew his left ear refused to work any longer, but if he didn’t and couldn’t figure it out, Janner wasn’t about to tell him.

What concerned Jebsun the most—Janner could tell because he had verbalized it, though only on request—were the dagger wounds. A lot of the remaining fever came from there, he said, but it wasn’t a constant fever, just one that came and went rather often that wasn’t high enough to induce delirium. Janner was glad. He was scared about what he might say if he was ever delirious again. 

The sound of footfalls alerted him to Jebsun’s approach and Janner closed his eyes, trying to appear relaxed and breath easily in a vain attempt to keep from answering potential questions. It wasn’t as though Jebsun had pried any further than, “can you tell me your name, son?” since that first memorable time, but it didn’t mean more questions wouldn’t be asked at some point. They had to be avoided at all costs. 

“Good morning, my favorite anonymous patient,” Jebsun said pleasantly, near his head. “I’m pretty sure you’re not really sleeping, but I’ll let you pretend while I check on you. After that you’ll need to ‘wake up’ for breakfast.”

If lead hadn’t consumed Janner’s heart and mind, he would have smiled. He might have even chuckled despite all the pain and coughing it would cause. That stopped him, though, and since there was no one to pour it out to—even if Sara was there, he really wouldn’t want to tell her everything—as of that moment it seemed as though he would neither smile nor laugh ever again. Somehow, he was okay with that. He didn’t deserve the pleasure of laughter or smiling, not after everything.

“Hmm,” Jebsun murmured, the muffled tone sounding a little concerned. Janner guessed it was because of the knife. 

“What is it?” he rasped, nearly wincing at the sound of his voice. 

“So, he wakes!” Jebsun began, but the humor seemed a little forced. “I’m concerned about the knife wounds. The blade must have had…sort of grime on it, considering how dreadfully the infection had...t…by the time I got to it. It isn’t healing properly, either, even after what I did. Getting rapidly worse, really, I’d venture to say.” His brow furrowed. “How badly does your leg hurt?”

Janner couldn’t help but be startled by the question. How badly did his leg hurt? He didn’t know. Certainly not as bad as whippings, not as bad as tearing out something from beneath his ear had. It throbbed, though, he supposed. That was how he responded. 

“‘It throbs?’” Jebsun replied, looking at him with concern. “That’s it?” Silence followed, as if Jebsun was considering something else, before continuing. “Those wounds are at least partially, if not entirely responsible, for the fever. I’ll need to clean it up and get rid of anything infected, alright?”

Stomach turning nauseatingly, Janner squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. Fever or no fever, spinning mind and ringing ears or not, he had a pretty good idea as to how Jebsun would go about cleaning the wound. He was certain a knife would be involved, and the thought of another frigid blade touching and piercing his skin terrified him. 

“Hey,” Jebsun said gently. “You don’t have to be awake for it. I’d rather you not be, really. I would like to do it as soon as possible, though, if that’s alright with you.”

I’ll be asleep, Janner thought, repeating it back to himself, trying to calm his racing mind and heart and doing his best to keep from breathing too quickly. It hurt, and he didn’t want a coughing fit ever again. That was a wish that would never come true. “Will I dream?” he whispered aloud, hating how childish he sounded. 

Jebsun’s eyes softened, and he looked as though he was about to rest a hand on Janner's head, then though better of it and clasped his hands together instead. Janner was glad. “I don’t know,” Jebsun admitted. “But it’ll be okay, alright?”

Janner didn’t nod and instead murmured, “Can we please just get it over with, then?”

*****

Behind the counter in the front area of his practice, Jebsun poured three drops of fluid extracted from sleeping flower seeds into a cup, then added glipfruit juice and stirred it together. He would take any chance he had to give his patient something substantial, and though juice wasn't substantial, it was at least sugary.

What he was doing likely wouldn’t take too long, but he had seen the look in the boy’s eyes when he mentioned the procedure—terror. Memory. It was related to a knife, then, and he would hazard a guess that it had to do with the cut behind his patient’s ear. The boy’s inclination to title his head so his right ear faced the sound had been subtle, but not unnoticed. He was deaf in his left ear, then, recently rendered that way by the looks of the scar. And had he been awake, too? What sort of monster would repeatedly whip, beat, and starve a child (teenagers were still children), then tear away their ability to hear in one ear and stab them on the way out? The thought made Jebsun’s blood boil. 

Corking the bottle of sleeping flower extract first, he made his way back to his patient’s room, being sure to smile. He knelt beside the bed and gently said, “This’ll help you sleep. Do you want help sitting up so you can drink it?”

The boy nodded, the haunted, hollow look in his grey-green eyes never leaving. Jebsun slipped his arm gently around his gaunt shoulders and slowly lifted him to a reclining position instead of a laying one. He held the cup to his patient’s lips and smiled as it was drunk cautiously, flutterfly-thin hand trembling as its fingers brushed the porcelain wall. 

When all the extract had been swallowed, Jebsun placed the cup on the floor and lowered his patient onto the pillow again. 

“I won’t begin until I know you’re fully asleep,” he said, glad when he received a twitch of a smile and a nod. “I usually know my patient’s names before I do something like this to them,” he said, mostly talking to himself. “I’m hoping to give you a name other than ‘the boy’ or ‘son’ eventually.”

He glanced at his patient, whose eyes had closed, and breathing had evened. “I’m going to wait for just a few minutes more,” he whispered, pretty sure he couldn’t be heard anymore. Perhaps that was the case, but he didn’t really mind. Jebsun found himself relishing the minutes before cleaning the infection, smiling fondly at the patient who had become unexpectedly dear to him. He had never seen the boy’s face so relaxed before, so free of worry and fear. The glaring gauntness and barely-healed bruising (it shouldn't have taken so long) was still painful, yes, but a sort of peace, gentleness, and nobility rested in those features, especially the latter.

Throughout the cleaning, he found himself glancing up at his patient’s face again and again, each time seeing the nobility clearer and brighter, turning into a certain royalty to the point at which he wondered how he had ever missed it. 

As Jebsun dressed the now-clean and (hopefully) infection-free wounds, he couldn’t help but be sure that he would still see that nobility when the boy awoke and that he needed some answers.

What was his name?

Where was his home?

Who could come for him?

Jebsun would avoid the “whys.” The chances of them hurting too much and causing a setback were far too great.

*****

Notes:

My intent is that the events in this chapter are running fairly parallel, meaning Artham, Leeli, and Janner connected right when he was falling asleep.

Please let me know if there's anything noncanonical or wonky^^