Through Ages of Weary Fulfillment: Ch. 22

Longing

Notes:

Back to Janner's (and Sara's) POV...

Now I just have to speed-write a chapter from Artham's POV.... (I think? or is it Janner's? or Sara's? Yep, it's Artham's)

*****

“I’m fine,” Janner said hoarsely, barely holding back a shudder when an icy drop rolled down his neck. 

Sara shook her head. “No, you’re not fine. Please, save your breath. You don’t really have much of it…and I’m sorry about the drip,” she added sympathetically, her eyes shifting toward the damp rag in her hand. “But you’ve had a fever for days, the water is meant to cool it, and you nearly bolting upright when just-cool water fell on you tells me said fever may very well be higher.”

Janner groaned as she got up, partially because it meant the bed bounced uncomfortably and sent his mind spinning, but also because of what she was doing. The candle- and lantern-light made her movements clear, and that they took her toward a small table with a pitcher and a cup even more so. A stream of lukewarm liquid fell into the cup, and only seconds later it was in Sara’s hand, coming nearer. 

Pushing himself into more of a sitting position—as if that would do anything to deter her; Sara was a force of nature—Janner looked at her in what he knew was a pitiful way, figuring trying it was better than not trying at all. “Please, don’t. It’s really not—” but the intake of breath before he began speaking had been haphazard and more, apparently, than his lungs liked. 

The next several minutes were spent hacking painfully, gasping for shaky air in the middle of it, clutching his stomach because it hurt so badly. When it was over, Janner fell back, his breathing shuddery and erratic. He squeezed his eyes shut, tired of the little of Aerwiar he could see being blurred and out of focus. It was strange how fevers and lack of air could do that to someone.

“I know you still don’t want the tea,” Sara murmured, the bed shifting a little when she sat down on it. “But it’s for your own good, and it does help.”

Too exhausted to risk another coughing fit, Janner nodded reluctantly, his face twisting automatically the second the tea touched his lips. Osier bark.* Excellent for bringing down fevers and making someone feel so nauseous it prolonged their illness. 

He knew the last thing wasn’t true, but he had begun thinking about it. Nothing anyone had tried had helped; if anything, all attempts had made him feel far worse than before. It was getting to where he was tired of trying other things and just wanted to let whatever it was attacking him run its course. That was what illnesses did, after all. They ran their course eventually. 

To her credit, Nia had not tried everything. Thankfully she had decided not to listen to suggestions from Mother Madalana (formerly Mother Mungery) as they were nearly all feet related and did not seem applicable.

“Can’t we just stop?” Janner whispered, opening his eyes just enough to where he could see Sara, dipping the rag into cool water again. “It’ll do whatever it wants and then leave. Why not wait?” He was so tired, and the past few days had felt like endless, burning, freezing, aching weeks. 

Sara’s head turned toward him, her blue eyes snapping with seriousness. “Yes, illnesses usually just hang out for a while and then leave. But no one thinks this one is going to do that, do they? Do you know why? I’ll tell you why: it’s because physically you cannot fight this on your own.” 

Janner sighed and felt tears prickle in his eyes the moment it sent a rough breath down his throat. It hurt, and he knew she was right. The fact that she was right scared him and angered him and frustrated him more than anything. Not that he was angry with her, but with himself. It had been a month since the Blackwood and the First Well. The lenlit fruit had helped a good deal in the immediate and the long run. Why did it fail him now?

Sara wasn’t done speaking, though. “Your body isn’t strong enough. It needs help. That is why we’re trying to help you. You feel like trash right now, but that’s only because the illness is countering our attacks on it. Like any enemy, it’s fighting back. Please, Janner, accept our help. And don’t lose this battle. If you do…” 

Her voice trailed off and she looked away focusing on something in the corner of the room. “We care about you. I care about you. Just,” she traced a pattern on the covers blindly, and then her cold fingers brushed his hand, almost shocking him with how icy they were. She jerked a little bit at the touch, her diamond eyes focusing on him suddenly. 

“What?” he asked softly, feeling guilty about asking her a question when he knew he would plunge into sleep any moment. The edges of his vision blurred even more, darkened, and the blue stars faded.

“Nothing,” she murmured. “It’s almost time for your mother’s shift, that’s all.”

If he had had the energy to pursue the fact that she definitely had not told him anything, Janner would have. He didn’t, though, and as everything around him drifted into blackness, he knew his body had opted for sleep anyway. 

*****

Sara’s lips pursed in worry, her chin resting in her hand. The sound of the cellar door tore her attention away from Janner’s feverish face, and she saw Nia who was indeed ready for her shift. She hadn’t exactly lied to Janner; Nia was coming, just not so soon as she had implied. It didn’t matter, anyway. He had slipped into something far nearer to unconsciousness than sleep almost before she had finished speaking. 

“How is he?” Nia whispered, placing one hand on Sara’s shoulder comfortingly as the other brushed across Janner’s forehead. The way her brow furrowed only deepened Sara’s worry, worry she was honestly getting tired of. It hadn’t been long, only a few days, but worrying constantly was becoming tiring. 

She wasn’t sure if she had ever worried so intensely before about a single thing, other than when Fangs had shoved her into the Black Carriage. Then she had worried about her family, about where she was going, about where the Maker was when she really needed him. Her worry had mounted to the point at which she actually made herself sick with it. The Fork! Factory! had seemed like a mercy compared to a life captured and tortured by Fangs, even if it was a mercy riddled with despair. 

It was not until she felt Nia’s eyes trained on her that Sara realized she had failed to answer her question. “Not great,” she stammered, brushing a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “He was coughing for a while, and I think his fever is up. But you already knew that.”

Nia nodded and squeezed her hands in her lap, her eyebrows still knitted together. “Thank you, Sara. You’re welcome to do whatever you want, and that includes staying here, if you so desire.”

Sara felt a flicker of a smile crossing over her face at the suggestion, but she shook her head anyway. It was too generous of Nia, and she had a feeling being alone with Janner was what she really wanted. “Thank you, Mrs. Wingfeather. But—”

“Nia,” was the quietly spoken name that interrupted her. “Please,” Nia said softly, turning toward her. “I know I said both ‘Mrs. Wingfeather’ and ‘Nia,’ and even ‘Mama’ if you like, were fine, but the former seems too impersonal. We’ve been through too much for something like impersonality to get in the way. You’re family, Sara. Either of the latter options would be lovely.”

Feeling a bit awkward and unsure of what she should go next, Sara gave a little half-nod and smiled lightly. “Thank you,” she said softly, trying to focus on Nia’s face and not Janner’s. “Thank you so much.”

Outside of the cellar, away from the courtyard, on the sandy path down to the beach, Sara still pondered what Nia had told her. It was her only other option, really. She could focus her attention on Nia’s request or on Janner’s illness. Though, there was the option of talking to her former orphans. The thought of it didn’t sit with her well, though. Not at that moment. Something about it seemed wrong. She needed to think and maybe meander along the beach as she did so. 

First order of things: Nia. She wanted Sara to call her by her given name or even by the name her children addressed her: ‘Mama.’ Was it not some sort of intrusion? The name ‘Mama’ was one reserved for mothers, one only their precious jewels (no pun intended) called them. Nia had lost one of her children only a month before, and now another was dreadfully ill and—

Sara’s mouth dropped open in horror mingled with great, great sorrow for the woman who she honestly wouldn’t mind calling Mama. Nia…she missed hearing her name called by her children. By her child who was no more. Sara knew she could never replace Kalmar, it wasn’t possible. No one could replace him. It did seem likely, though, that Nia wished to fill the void in some way, and that she was desperate enough to ask it from the girl who had interacted with Janner once or twice—before the past few weeks, at least—broke Sara’s heart. Not that she was offended, not in the least. Honored was far closer a word to describe how she felt. 

She thought of her own ‘mama,’ not Mama to her, of course, but Mother. It was odd, Mother and Papa had been their names, not Mother and Father, nor Mama and Papa. Sara never really wondered why she had not called her mother Mama until that moment, but she supposed—a lump of sorrow came into her throat with her supposing—it was because they had never been close, not really. She and her Papa were always far closer, bonded by their love of stories of Anniera and tricorns and magic. Her mother had been witty, yes, practical, yes, but not loving in a way Sara had understood. There had to have been love in her heart, though. It must not have been a love she could comprehend yet, that was all. She wondered if she would understand it now. 

She wished she had understood it then.

*****

Notes:

*I knew willow tree bark tea was good for fevers (as long as the American Girl book I read years ago was right...), so I looked up other words for will. Osier was one of them and I went with it. The tea tastes bitter, apparently, which seemed pretty nasty to me. Hence why Janner thinks it's nasty.

So that's how Janner is doing...and what Sara is thinking about...and how Nia is being stressed...

I realize now that I ignored both Leeli and Arundelle in this chapter. They are doing something together. In town. I have no idea what, but it's something.