“Yes, that’s true,” I agreed evenly.
“So you don’t know what they use to cure diseases, then?” Geoffrey pressed. “What’s in their medications?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t. It wasn’t something I was interested in, back when I had access to the information. I’m afraid I took it for granted. Good health is simply a given on every planet I’ve lived on.”
Geoffrey’s red cheeks flushed brighter than usual. He looked down, an angry set to his mouth. What had I said to offend him?
Heath, sitting beside Geoffrey, patted his arm. There was a pregnant silence in the room.
“Uh—about the Vultures…” Ian said—the words were forced, a deliberate subject change. “I don’t know if I missed this part sometime, but I don’t remember you ever explaining about them being ‘unkind’… ?”
It wasn’t something I had explained, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t really that interested—this was just the first question he’d been able to think of.
My informal class ended earlier than usual. The questions were slow, and most of them supplied by Jamie and Ian. Geoffrey’s questions had left everyone else preoccupied.
“Well, we’ve got an early one tomorrow, tearing down the stalks…” Jeb mused after yet another awkward silence, making the words a dismissal. People rose to their feet and stretched, talking in low voices that weren’t casual enough.
“What did I say?” I whispered to Ian.
“Nothing. They’ve got mortality on their minds.” He sighed.
My human brain made one of those leaps in understanding that they called intuition.
“Where’s Walter?” I demanded, still whispering.
Ian sighed again. “He’s in the south wing. He’s… not doing well.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Things have been… difficult for you lately, so…”
I shook my head impatiently at that consideration. “What’s wrong with him?”
Jamie was there beside me now; he took my hand.
“Some of Walter’s bones snapped, they’re so brittle,” he said in a hushed voice. “Doc’s sure it’s cancer—final stages, he says.”
“Walt must have been keeping quiet about the pain for a long while now,” Ian added somberly.
I winced. “And there’s nothing to be done? Nothing at all?”
Ian shook his head, keeping his brilliant eyes on mine. “Not for us. Even if we weren’t stuck here, there would be no help for him now. We never cured that one.”
I bit my lip against the suggestion I wanted to make. Of course there was nothing to do for Walter. Any of these humans would rather die slowly and in pain than trade their mind for their body’s cure. I could understand that… now.
“He’s been asking for you,” Ian continued. “Well, he says your name sometimes; it’s hard to tell what he means—Doc’s keeping him drunk to help with the pain.”
“Doc feels real bad about using so much of the alcohol himself,” Jamie added. “Bad timing, all around.”
“Can I see him?” I asked. “Or will that make the others unhappy?”
Ian frowned and snorted. “Wouldn’t that be just like some people, to get worked up over this?” He shook his head. “Who cares, though, right? If it’s Walt’s final wish…”
“Right,” I agreed. The word final had my eyes burning. “If seeing me is what Walter wants, then I guess it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, or if they get mad.”
“Don’t worry about that—I’m not going to let anybody harass you.” Ian’s white lips pressed into a thin line.
I felt anxious, like I wanted to look at a clock. Time had ceased to mean much to me, but suddenly I felt the weight of a deadline. “Is it too late to go tonight? Will we disturb him?”
“He’s not sleeping regular hours. We can go see.”
I started walking at once, dragging Jamie because he still gripped my hand. The sense of passing time, of endings and finality, propelled me forward. Ian caught up quickly, though, with his long stride.
In the moonlit garden cavern, we passed others who for the most part paid us no mind. I was too often in the company of Jamie and Ian to cause any curiosity, though we weren’t headed for the usual tunnels.
The one exception was Kyle. He froze midstride when he saw his brother beside me. His eyes flashed down to see Jamie’s hand in mine, and then his lips twisted into a snarl.
Ian squared his shoulders as he absorbed his brother’s reaction—his mouth curled into a mirror of Kyle’s—and he deliberately reached for my other hand. Kyle made a noise like he was about to be sick and turned his back on us.
When we were in the blackness of the long tunnel south, I tried to free that hand. Ian gripped it tighter.
“I wish you wouldn’t make him angrier,” I muttered.
“Kyle is wrong. Being wrong is sort of a habit with him. He’ll take longer than anyone else to get over it, but that doesn’t mean we should make allowances for him.”
“He frightens me,” I admitted in a whisper. “I don’t want him to have more reasons to hate me.”
Ian and Jamie squeezed my hands at the same time. They spoke simultaneously.
“Don’t be afraid,” Jamie said.
“Jeb’s made his opinion very clear,” Ian said.
“What do you mean?” I asked Ian.