Free An Accident of Stars by Foz Meadows Page A

made a point of catching Zech’s gaze.
    â€œThank you,” she said. The child sagged with relief. “You’ve done well. I won’t forget it, and nor will anyone else.”
    Zech nodded, rubbing her eyes with the back of a hand. “Can I sit with her?” she asked. “I used the zuymet. We understand each other a little.”
    Gwen managed a weak smile. “Come. I’ll be glad of the company.”
    Belatedly, the lights came on: a series of round globes situated at intervals along the compound wall, made luminous by magic. Gwen turned, Saffron heavy in her arms, and saw the expressions on Yasha and Pix’s faces as they realised what had happened.
    â€œUse the room next to mine,” said Pix, her face ashen. “It has the best light.”
    â€œI plan to.” Gwen strode past, Zechalia trotting at her heels, and felt a flash of bitter satisfaction that Yasha, for once, was rendered speechless. Climbing the steps to the veranda was a challenge. Saffron’s weight put an extra strain on her hips and knees, but she managed it all the same.
    â€œYou go ahead and open the doors,” she grunted to Zech, and despite her obvious exhaustion, the girl was quick to obey.
    Once in the room, she deposited Saffron gently on the bed. Zech hovered in the doorway, her eyes darting from Gwen to the single chair and back again. Gwen gave a bark of laughter.“Take it, girl. I’ve things to do.”
    As Zech sank onto the chair with sheepish gratitude, Gwen knelt carefully by Saffron’s side and proceeded, with as much tenderness as she could muster, to remove the bedraggled taal. It was tricky work – Pix had done a good job securing it, which was the only reason it hadn’t fallen off entirely. She’d just managed to wrestle the last corner out from under Saffron’s prone body when Yasha and Pix arrived, the latter bearing a bowl of warm water and a washcloth, the former only a scowl. On seeing the matriarch, Zech instantly leapt to her feet and proffered the chair, but Yasha declined with a wave of her hand. Folding the taal into a neat, bloody square, Gwen passed it to Pix in exchange for the water.
    â€œI boiled it with alcohol,” Pix said. “It’s clean.”
    Gwen nodded absently. “If you can hear me,” she murmured to Saffron, moistening the cloth, “I’m going to clean your hand now. All right, girl? This will sting, but there’s no helping it.”
    Saffron stirred a little, though her eyes remained closed. Her creamy school blouse was stained with red. Gently, Gwen lifted the injured hand and began to dab away the blood, first from the surrounding skin and then, finally, from the stumps themselves. Saffron shuddered, but didn’t scream – presumably, she’d already exhausted that response. It was an ugly sight, though at least Kadeja had made a clean job of it. Nothing remained but ragged flesh and the gleam of knuckle, the proximal phalanges completely severed from the metacarpals.
    â€œHow long before the priest arrives?” she asked.
    â€œHe’ll be quick enough,” Yasha answered. “Teket’s Kin know us here.”
    Old pain tinged her voice, and Gwen couldn’t help but share it. None of them were sure whether Trishka’s weakness was caused or simply exacerbated by her magic, but whatever the case, the sevikmet couldn’t heal it, and though Gwen had done some research on Earth, she was yet to uncover anything to work as either mitigation or cure. Fibromyalgia was the closest thing she’d found to a comparable condition, and it was still so poorly understood that, even without the added complication of Trishka’s magic, they were both leery of using it as a starting point.
    Now, as she set her cloth aside, she found herself hoping that Saffron and Trishka might have occasion to talk, once they’d both recovered; and once Saffron had learned to speak Kenan