If I had died, it was not to be permanent, for I slowly drifted back into consciousness to the sound of voice. I felt indifferent to them, as my first true sensation—and the proof that I was not now with God—was extreme cold. The meager blanket which Nidath had placed upon me following my embarrassing collapse and resurrection now barely covered my torso. I scrambled to place my entire body underneath it, as it was as much protection as I could then muster against the bitter Hihaythean winter. With this done, I could give my surroundings more attention.
Where was I? What had happened since I had shouted Nidath out of my home? How long had it been? I asked myself all of these questions at once, and they were far too much to answer at once. Finally, once I had gathered myself a bit, I recognized that had slept, but I had no idea for how long. It could have been for a few minutes or a few days. Perhaps it had even been weeks!
Slowly, I began to gather clues. My eyes remained closed and I could see very little natural light attempting to penetrate the lids. It could have been night, or perhaps it was just a grey, snowy day. The bitter cold meant that it was still winter—so I had not slept for more than two months. Beyond that, I had very little idea.
It was as I began mulling these things that I realized that there were not several voices, but just one voice. It was closer than I initially realized. I cast aside my thoughts and attempted to place the voice. It spoke softly, but I could hear as particles of saliva danced upon the tongue. The voice came from within this room! It addressed me, and it was a voice that I knew! I finally managed to crack my eyes upon and gaze toward the foot of the bed, where I discovered Etiar looking down at me. Oh, Etiar! He had returned for me!
The joy that filled my heart quickly subsided, however. First, upon opening my eyes, I discovered that the room seemed to be tilting back and forth around me. It made my head hurt. And it was only then that I realized what a great and sickening pain I had deep in my stomach. I had not noticed it until then, so I thought that perhaps I could cause myself to forget it again, but now there was little else I could think of.
But, perhaps worse, I realized what Etiar’s presence meant. That he returned could only mean two things: either he had come to apologize to me on Nidath’s behalf, or he had come to chastise me for treating her as I had. The first was a possibility, but I felt a strange certainty that it was the second. I still did not regret the things I had said to Nidath, as she had said and done terrible things in my home, but I hated the idea of Etiar being disappointed in me. I closed my eyes once again and groaned at the terrible things to which I had awoken.
“Federan,” Etiar said, louder this time than his earlier words. “Federan, I know that you are awake.”
I groaned again and rolled onto my right side. This surprised me with a sharp pain in my shoulder and an even sharper one in my hip. Ah yes, the bruises from my fall. They had not healed yet, which meant it was probably no more than a week since I had drank the Hakol-Pata. I quickly threw myself onto my left side and drew the blanket up over my head.
“Federan, I have brought you another stew. You must drink it.”
Another stew? He had come to ask my pardon on his daughter’s behalf! Yet his voice showed none of its usual warmth and love. Why would he bring me food if not from love? I was confused, but I supposed that the only way to satisfy this curiosity was to face the situation, so I propped myself up and opened my eyes as much as I could while only experiencing a tolerable amount of pain. “Etiar,” I offered him acknowledgment.
“Here, Federan. Eat it quickly, for afterwards we must talk.” No, he was certainly not satisfied with me, as his tone betrayed a distinct shortness. But I had committed to the stew now, so I had no choice but to accept it and the conversation. I took the cup into my hands and drank a sip. My mouth was dry, but the savory broth made it water anew. However, as soon as I swallowed it, my stomach’s pain became even more pronounced, and I knew I was in jeopardy of losing what I had just eaten. But, after a moment, the pain subsided, and thereafter the eating was easier and more acceptable to my stomach. I considered taking as much time as I could to finish the food, but I knew this to be cowardly and useless besides. I would have to hear Etiar’s disappointment at some time, why not make it begin sooner, thereby to finish sooner?
I kept the cup in my hands and rested it in my lap. Then I nodded slowly, and Etiar began. “I and mine have fed and bathed you for ten days. My debt to your brothers as loyal customers and as creative reformists is repaid. Send Yakko my wishes when he returns.” And with that he grabbed the cup from my hands and walked toward the door.
Etiar had managed to surprise me once again, as I thought he would rebuke and scold and even yell at me. But these three sentences—a cold and unfeeling goodbye—felt worse than any shouting could have. He had no desire to make amends. He had no wish to maintain the relationship. This was the end, and he did not seem especially upset about it.
I was determined not to let him go so easily, however. “Etiar, she gave me a Qhalam potion. What am I supposed to think of that?”
He turned around to me, his face unchanged. “Her mother—my wife—was Qhalam. She was born across the border, with a tribe of Almorstines, and came here in her youth. She left the Qhalam beliefs when she married me, but she did not abandon the culture entirely. Just because it was used by heretics does not mean it is heresy itself.”
Nidath was half Almorstine by blood, raised by a woman who had been raised by Qhalam. This rocked my beliefs, as I had always thought Almorstines to be wild savages and Qhalam to be worthless morons. That an Almorstine Qhalam had made her way into gentle Etiar’s household meant that they could not all be so bad. I could not yet decide what it meant for Nidath.
“Etiar, I should not have said those things about the Almorstines,” I said. He was already just beyond my bedchamber door, and he did not react, so I do not know if he heard me. I hoped that he cared.
I was not sorry for my treatment of Nidath, as heretic potions were unwelcome in my home. I meant everything I said about the Qhalam, but I realized now that my words about the Almorstines had been said out of ignorance. But what did it matter now? Nidath and Etiar were gone, and they clearly had no interest in re-cultivating a relationship.
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