Page 164 of Mates for the Raskarrans #1-6

CHAPTER TEN

Carrie

I t doesn’t take long for Shemza to examine my throat and confirm there’s nothing physically wrong with it.

I wondered how he was going to know, given that his experience with humans is limited, but he examined both Lorna and Rachel at the same time, comparing them to me.

Apparently, there’s nothing going on with me that stands out as different to them.

He’s sympathetic as he gives me the verdict, tapping his own throat then giving me the thumbs up.

Even though I’d decided this was the case a long time ago, I still feel a blow. Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as drinking some of the bitter berry water to fix whatever’s going on with me.

Shemza gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Talk?” he says.

Most of the time, I can get one word out if I really try, but the pressure of having to do so on demand makes my throat grow so tight, I can barely get a breathy wheeze out.

I take a slow breath, closing my eyes and trying to picture myself somewhere other than perched on a table in the healer’s hut.

My mind goes instantly back to sitting beside the fire. Talking to Endzoh with gestures. I never felt like I needed my voice with him, and I hadn’t realised until just now how much of a relief that was.

Warmth blooms in my chest, relaxing me a little.

“Hhhhi,” I manage, just about.

I tap my throat, then squeeze my hand into a tight fist. Shemza nods.

“Sleep good?”

I nod.

“Food?”

I nod again. My appetite has reduced, but that’s the same for all of the girls.

For the first few days, we inhaled food, but with our bodies returned to strength, the weight we lost on the beach restored, none of us are as ravenous as we were in those early days.

I’m still eating more than I ever did back home, so I don’t think I’ve got anything to worry about on that front.

Shemza nods, pleased. Then he turns to his drawers of herbs and powders, pulling one out.

“That’s nesta root powder,” Rachel says. “Same plant we use to make the sleeping tea, but the roots aren’t as potent. They relax you, help you to feel calmer, but don’t make you too sleepy.”

Shemza gets a cup of boiling water from the pot over the fire, setting it down on the surface beside me.

He holds up a small measuring spoon - made from a seedpod that’s been worn smooth.

Delicately, he uses it to scoop out a measure of the nesta root powder, tipping it into the hot water and stirring it in.

“One,” he says, holding up one finger, then says something in raskarran to Rachel.

“Er, with breakfast is best, he thinks, so you get the benefit throughout the day. If you were having trouble sleeping, we’d say take it at night.

It might not make you sleepy in the same way the sleepy tea does, but the relaxing effect can still be helpful.

Sleep is one of the most important things for healing any ailment, and I’m blathering, sorry.

” Before Vantos, she would probably have blushed, embarrassed, but now she just grins.

“I forget not everybody is as interested in all this as I am.”

“I’m just amazed you’ve learned all this so fast,” Lorna says. “While not fully speaking their language.”

“Grace having some medical knowledge helps. A lot of the time, she can explain why we do things a certain way. Different medicines, but same approaches to using them.” Rachel’s smile turns dreamy. “I hope she’s having a wonderful time with Calran. I’m so happy for her.”

The tea is still steaming, but I blow on it and take a cautious sip, grimacing as the unpleasant flavour of it coats my tongue. It tastes like chalk dust smells. Shemza gives me an apologetic look.

“There is a sweetener we can put in it,” Rachel says. “We use it to get Ahnjas to take his medicine when his teeth hurt him.”

I shake my head, taking another sip. It’s not great, but it’s not disgusting, and it’s only a small cup.

The water’s no longer hot enough to scold, so I drink it down in a few gulps.

I wait for a moment for the liquid to settle in my stomach, then take a sip of air, testing my throat. It feels just as tight as usual.

“It won’t work straight away,” Rachel says.

“Think of it like the support Lorna had to wear for her wrist. It doesn’t magically make the injury disappear, or speed up the healing process like djenti berries do.

It just holds everything in alignment, and protects it from going out of alignment again.

But that’s really important because that means the body and any other medicines can do the healing work easier, quicker.

That’s what this medicine does. It supports. ”

I pick up my slate.

How long?

Rachel looks uneasy. Lorna turns to Shemza, placing her hands together, then moving them apart.

“How long until she can talk again?”

Rachel says something in raskarran. Between the two of them, Shemza seems to get the message. He says something to Rachel, who turns to me with the expression of someone about to deliver bad news.

“He says he doesn’t know. Could be quick, could be... Never.”

The word sits on my chest like a stone.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lorna says, putting an arm round me.

“It doesn’t matter if it never comes back, we’ll work out ways round it.

You’re getting the hang of writing, and everyone else will work hard to learn to read.

We’ve already half invented a sign language to talk to the Raskarrans.

If we need to, we’ll figure out signs for everything.

So just don’t worry about that possibility, okay? ”

I’d dismiss this as just Lorna trying to be kind to me as a friend, but Rachel - who I haven’t spent all that much time with - nods along with her.

“We’re all going to be trapped with nothing to do for at least six weeks. We can get a lot of reading practise in during that time,” she says, smiling. “We’ll all be pros by the time the big rains end.”

I blink a few tears loose, wiping them away with my sleeve.

Shemza gives my shoulder another gentle squeeze, his eyes full of reassurance and encouragement as he looks down at me, holding up three fingers, touching each one in turn as he speaks.

“Rest. Tea. Joy.”

“If only that was as easy as it sounds,” Lorna says, then takes my slate from me, writing out the three words, before handing it back to me.

Rest.

Tea.

Joy.

The first two are easy enough. And it’s not like I haven’t found joy in things since arriving in the raskarran village.

Cuddles with Ahnjas. Jassal dancing with excitement about her clothes earlier.

Friendship with Lorna and the others. Plus all the quiet little joys, like waking up when I want to, having a full stomach, the taste of the air after a sudden downpour.

There’s so much beauty here, my heart is full of it.

But there’s always that niggling feeling of guilt, the weight in my stomach of the promise I made and can never fulfil.

I’ll save up and bring you out to join me.

Maybe my voice won’t return until those words aren’t a lie anymore. Maybe that’s what Shemza meant when he said, ‘could be never.’

It’s not your fault, I remind myself. Not. Your. Fault. But it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that, the guilt never goes. It just sits in the pit of my stomach, growing bigger and more solid over time.

The taste of the tea still lingers in the back of my throat.

Maybe the medicine will start to dissolve the guilt, shrink it back down to a more manageable size, I think, trying to give my thoughts a more positive bent.

Maybe with a little support, a bit of rest and tea, I’ll finally start to believe I deserve the joy.

I’m heading back to my hut to drop off my slate and the pot of root powder Shemza has given me when a figure steps out into the path in front of me. I jump backwards, startled, and look up to find myself face to face with the angry raskarran.

He doesn’t look any less angry than this morning, his brows knit close together as he looks down at me, a heat in his orange eyes. My last breath out sucks right back up into my lungs again, my whole body tensing as he thrusts a fist out towards me.

Clutching a flower.

When I don’t move, he pushes it closer to me.

I step back, but he just steps forward, keeping the flower right up under my nose.

I don’t want to take it, don’t want to give him any kind of impression that I’m interested, but he doesn’t give me a whole lot of choice.

When no one happens to walk past and rescue me, I raise my hand to the stem of the flower and pluck it gingerly from his hand.

He nods firmly, then pats a big hand on his chest.

“Larzon,” he says, then stares at me.

Even if I wanted to speak to him, I couldn’t.

My throat is clenched tight, any impact of the nesta root tea overridden by his looming presence.

My lungs snatch at the air, my breath shallow enough to make me feel a little lightheaded.

The pounding rhythm of my heart doesn’t help.

I try to force myself to calm down, to breathe slow.

When I feel calm enough, I shake my head, gesturing to my throat as best I can with a flower in my hand.

I open and close my mouth a few times before shaking my head again, hoping he gets the message.

“Larzon,” he says again, thumping his hand against his chest as he steps closer.

“Hey!”

Suddenly, Khadija is between me and Larzon, her hand planted firmly on his chest, pushing him back.

In his surprise, Larzon takes a couple of steps back.

Then he scowls again, saying something in the raskarran language and brushing Khadija’s hand aside.

Khadija straightens, folding her arms across her chest as she rises to her full height.

She’s at least two feet shorter than him, emphasised by her diminutive frame and his muscular one, but she doesn’t flinch when he gestures for her to move.