"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
2nd of Saun, 717"Speaking in Common"
morning
It was the second of Saun and not yet mid-morn, and Hart took an apple from a bowl in the kitchen, his bag from the floor of his room, and the letter that had arrived early trial-last from his bedside table.
He ate as he walked, nearly stumbling over his own feet, and tried to juggle bag and apple and letter as he did.
Hart Venora, the letter read. He tried hard to keep appley fingers away from it. Your presence is requested at the Thorn family greenhouse at 10th break on the second of the sun. Signed, Cordially, Lyla Marise Thorn.
The words, for as simple as they were, were far from simple in design; written in elegant calligraphy and printed on the finest paper Hart had ever seen-- thick paper, smooth and soft to the touch, and the perfect color of cream. The envelope, as delightfully expensive as the paper had been, had been sealed with vaguely glittering red wax, and marked with the merchant family Thorn's crest.
Hart wiped his hands of juice, folded the letter, being gentle as not to rip or crumple it, and slipped it neatly into his pocket.
On the way out of the Estate he picked up Aukey who had been waiting at the door-- the best place to catch Hart when he inevitably forgot to alert the guards he was going out. Together, Hart offering the man some of his apple, the two made their way quietly towards the nearest town, a quaint little village called Dewwich where Lyla Thorn lived.
---
Dewwich was how Hart remembered it, a happy, efficient, rustic little town; there had to be no more than twenty houses in all. And Dewwich remembered him too, judging by the friendly waves he recieved on the way in. Hart quickly came across the letter carrier, a man he had helped with a twisted ankle a few days before, now hopping along with a bag of parcels and a wooden stick of a crutch in an attempt to make his morning deliveries on time.
The seaborn was distracted easily. He nearly ended up going along with the man but Aukey made a quiet coughing noise and caught Hart's eye, looking meaningfully at the suns. Hart glanced up. The sky read it was past 9th break, and Hart reluctantly waved goodbye to his hobbled friend.
The greenhouse was the village of Dewwich's best prize, and while it wasn't the physical center of the town --that was a lovely central fountain-- it was nonetheless the town's center. Business ran out of the family Thorn's pockets, and the greenhouse was, for all Hart knew, the seat of their power, settled next to the big manor house which overlooked the rest of the village's more modest one-story homes.
Hart, having been to this place before, went around the side of the big house, opened the gate to the black iron fence, and let himself into the gardens, where the back sheds and the greenhouse entryway were located.
"There you are," said a voice from the greenhouse door, and Hart looked over and saw Lyla closing and locking the entrance behind her. "I thought you would be late."
"I'm here," Hart said, "And I brought--"
"Your bodyguard," Lyla said primly, giving a short nod of the head to Aukey, who glanced at Hart before nodding back. "Very well," Lyla said, and removed a pair of gardening gloves, dusting off her hands. She tucked the gloves into her belt, ran a hand over her ponytail, and motioned for them to follow, already striding forward. "Thank you for coming. Today your job will be to help us with product testing," she said.
"What's that?" Hart asked, swinging his stride to match her pace.
Lyla only smiled and tilted her head.
Through the back gardens she led them, past the large variety of ornamental flowers that sweetly flavored the air, past the various small sheds and garden beds, finally bringing them to a short brick path through a ring of trees to what seemed like a secondary manor. Hart hadn't noticed it before, hidden back behind the first, but now he saw it was nearly as big if not bigger than the other. It was only as he walked in the front doors and was greeted by a familiar antiseptic smell that he realized what it was.
"A hospital, here?" he wondered aloud; small towns usually relied on simpler forms of health care, a doctor or midwife or two, and if lucky a surgeon. This was something else. He would guess there were likely enough rooms to fit everyone in the village, if not more.
But Lyla only nodded her head, and Hart and Aukey were left to follow behind her.
The hospital was simple, more like a large house than a public space though impeccably clean and cool, and it was only after he noticed the Thorn family crest pinned as a silver broach to a nurse's collar that Hart realized that it was privately owned. "This is your hospital?" he wondered, and Lyla gave some small confirmation, a brief nod of the head.
"Why?" Hart asked, and this time Lyla answered again, "For product testing."
"Testing," Hart said, and Lyla led him up an elaborately crafted spiral staircase to a sterile little room on the second floor.
"Shirt off, put on this robe, and have a seat on the edge of the bed," Lyla said, and Hart followed her directions easily enough, shrugging at Aukey as he did.
Once he was robed and seated Lyla called in another woman, a nurse by her uniform and neatly pinned hair, and together the two of them explained.
Hart was to be one of several persons forming various test groups to sample mushrooms in order to evaluate the fungus' properties. This was related to the job Lyla had given him a few days back, when Hart had met her out in the woods; he'd delivered a message for her and helped a group of men from the village collect the small forest's worth of mushrooms. Lyla had said then that she suspected the mushrooms to have special qualities, as of then undiscovered.
These test groups consisted of people of many ages, races, and sexes, she explained, though there were no children involved. "We suspect the mushrooms to be hallucinogenic," Lyla told him now. "Recreational, rather than medicinal. As such, we won't test them on children."
"We never test on children," the nurse said cheerfully. "Not unless we've already proven the safety of the product on adults beforehand, or in special cases if the child is in danger of dying from an illness and there is no other option of treatment. And we never test them without the child's and the parents' or guardians' consent."
"We never test potentially dangerous substances on people, either. Those we always test on plants and animals first. Substances that affect alpha and beta testers negatively are never approved to give to people. As a pharmaceutical company concerned with the health of our constituency, we are constantly weighing risk and reward for our products. We assure you, this process is safe--" Lyla said.
"Tried and true." That was the nurse, smiling.
"Hospitalization during a trial is only a precaution," Lyla finished.
"And the mushrooms?" Hart asked. He glanced again at Aukey who was looking decidely less comfortable now that he knew what Hart would be doing today. To be fair, Hart hadn't known either. The bodyguard caught Hart's eye and shook his head but the Duke's brother held up a hand telling him to wait.
"We suspected them of poison so we tested them on plants, then animals. Alpha and beta testing indicated no adverse effects, though we do believe the mushrooms to have affected the goats' mental state to a moderate degree."
"And we have collected anecdotal evidence that these mushrooms have been consumed by both humans and a variety of animals before, based on interviews conducted near the southern border. While people have known of this species of fungi for some time, it has only been of late that we've grown interested in the mushrooms' use as a hallucinogen."
"So you're saying eating these mushrooms will make me hallucinate?" Hart asked. "But other than that, no bad side effects?"
"As far as we know," Lyla said, and the nurse stepped forward and began her work-- taking Hart's wrist for a pulse, checking his eyes and temperature, asking him to stick his tongue out, and marking everything down on a chart. She took his height and weight and did some tape measurements, around his ribcage, the length of his arms and legs, before letting him sit back down.
Aukey, the corners of his eyes now tight, gave up on waiting as Hart had told him and finally spoke. "Ma'am," he said, and Lyla glanced over at him.
"You're free to join in," she answered, rather brightly for the bodyguard's dour expression. "We can always use more testers and I assure you there should be no ill effects." The bodyguard gave a slight shake of the head. "No?" Lyla asked. "Do you have an exclusivity contract with your employer?" Aukey held his tongue, but Lyla nodded as if he'd spoken. "We would pay handsomely for your time and effort, same as the rest," she said, but he still shook his head.
"The Venora--" He paused and corrected. "Ser Qy'ihadi should not be a tester," he said instead.
"Why?" Lyla asked as the nurse held out a form for Hart to fill out. It involved inquiries as to Hart's medical past, and required a signature at the bottom. Hart took it and began reading, but Aukey put a hand on the form.
"It's my duty to advise against this," the bodyguard insisted. "This is a bad idea," he grunted out.
"But why?" Hart asked.
"Too many unknown variables," Aukey said, and Hart squinted at him. "It's a security risk. It is my duty to advise against this," the man repeated again.
"Noted," Hart said. He glanced at Lyla, then shrugged. "But if she's not concerned, I'm not."
"Of course you aren't," Aukey muttered. Hart offered another half-hearted shrug.
"I assure you we're professionals here," Lyla said, and Hart took the paper and signed the bottom of it with a flourish. Aukey didn't say anything further, but crossed his arms and put his back to the nearest wall.
"You've got a long wait ahead of you," Lyla warned him, and Aukey stood there, his lips now as tight as his eyes had been before.
---
The paperwork was filed, Hart had his medical records attached to a clipboard at the foot of his bed, and Lyla and the nurse talked him through the testing process.
From a combination of preliminary testing and anecdote, the researchers believed they already knew the right way to use the mushrooms in order to get the best results. But to be certain they were performing delta tests --human trials-- using multiple other methods of consumption. When Hart asked, he was told there were some fifty people, some from the village but most from out of the area, who had come in for the final round of testing. Some of these people were regulars, who had done this before; others were newcomers like Hart.
The testing itself would last a few days, though it could potentially go on longer. Food, board, and any additional costs would be covered by the Thorns as well as payment, and the tests would continue only if any unsuspected side effects cropped up. After the trials were completed and the patients were cleared for release, each was advised to keep in touch with the hospital if anything abnormal happened to them after they were let go. Just in case, they were told to stay in the area for at least seven trials after testing had been completed.
Lyla assured him that 'abnormal' things didn't happen all that often, but it was better to be safe.
Aukey made a grim face about that but didn't say anything, and so with Hart's permission the testing commenced.
---
2nd of Saun
11th break
There were many different ways to take these drugs, according to the nurse --Lyla had left after Hart was settled in, always busy with her work-- but the Thorns were primarily interested in ingestation. Hart would be asked to ingest the mushrooms in several different forms, cooked, raw, dried, ect. and then each hour his vitals would be checked, certain samples would be taken, and he would give a report on how he felt and any side effects he was experiencing. In the meantime he could do anything he liked as long as he gave his reports, but the hospital preferred him to stay in his room and remain at rest.
"Okay," Hart said glumly at that, and considered the window.
As long as he agreed to consume only the food provided by the hospital, he was allowed to eat and drink. Other patients, he was told, would be given exercises to perform, to see if a faster heart rate affected the absorption of the drug. And still others would not be allowed to eat at all while the mushroom was in their system. Some would be given a false mushroom to test called a placebo.
"So do I have the real or false ones?" Hart asked, curious, but the nurse merely smiled.
Placebo or not, Hart was one of the lucky ones. He didn't have anything to do but eat and wait. For doing nothing he thought he was getting paid well. Somewhat smugly he laid back on the hospital bed and put his hands behind his head, crossing his feet at the ankles and checking the clock that hung on the wall.
He gave a yawn and thought, This is going to be easy.
---
2nd of Saun
19th break
It wasn't easy, not waiting like this.
It was hard.
It turned out each test took approximately eight hours, to make sure the effects of the mushroom were fully out of the system before starting the next round. After the eight hours were up, Hart was expected to drink 16 ounces of saline water, which meant the water tasted vaguely of salt. Fifteen minutes later he had to give a urine sample, and the nurse poked him with a needle and took a small syringe of blood. After that he was allowed a brief reprieve where he could walk around, eat, and do whatever else he wanted to as long as whatever he was doing was totally boring.
Eight breaks prior he had been given his first sample of mushroom, and nothing interesting had happened since. He had been given two and a half grams of the stuff, raw, all diced up, and had eaten it without a pause.
Then came the wait, and so Hart had waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Nothing. There was nothing.
For eight hours straight.
---
3rd of Saun
4th break
During the trials he was allowed to sleep for specific increments of time, two hours a piece, and with the boredom gnawing at him like a ship rat Hart dozed late into the night through early morning. At twentieth break last night he'd been given his second dose; the same amount of mushrooms, but this time they had been cooked.
Hart had stayed up for a break or two after that before he'd been given leave to sleep. He slept two hours, was woken, gave a report, was kept awake another hour or so, and then was once again allowed to sleep.
There had been no difference. Raw or cooked, these mushrooms did absolutely naught.
Worse yet Hart had been cooped up in his hospital room with nothing but Aukey's company for long periods of time. He had been told not to ring the nurse's bell unless he had a symptom to report or a request to make... though that didn't mean the nurses couldn't stop by on their own. At one point a nurse had come by and brought him some books, random titles that Hart had not yet read. He had tried reading one which turned out to be a medical glossary. That had been put down right quick. Another was some person's old journal, handwritten and vague, and another a romance.
The romance held his interest though the steamy scenes were a little too modest for his taste. Yet there was only so long Hart could read smut aloud to Aukey --who was resolutely ignoring every word-- and the giggling rotation of nurses before he temporarily lost his voice.
At 13th break, after his third dose --this time the mushrooms dried-- Hart brought out his sketchbook and charcoal to do some character studies. He asked the gaggle of nurses who often came by his room to pose for him, much to their delight. To Aukey's annoyance, though the redhead didn't clearly show it, Hart did a few sketches of him as well, purposefully exaggerating the man's perpetual scowl and thunder-dark face.
After all the nurses were done he did a quick sketch of the Thorn family crest that had been pinned to one of their lapels. Then he convinced one of the ladies to bring a model skeleton to his room. Using the skeleton he worked on anatomy for a while, asking for the names of bones and labeling them on his paper whenever one of the nurses came and checked in.
At 17th break he was full-stop sick of sketching every little last bone-- who knew there'd be so many?
Much to Aukey's displeasure he took the skeleton, placed it on its side under the covers in his bed, and convinced the bodyguard to dangle him out of the window so there wouldn't be that far of a drop from the second floor. "Qy'ihadi..." Aukey frowned, but Hart already had the window open and was clambering out.
"Just need some fresh air," Hart said, and Aukey grabbed him by the wrist to make sure he didn't slip, then began to carefully lower him down.
"Don't go anywhere," Aukey muttered, letting go, and Hart fell the short distance to the ground, landing awkwardly but light, managing not to damage himself in the drop. He stood propped against the buildings' side, hands in the pockets of his robe, and waited.
A few bits later Aukey appeared, and Hart and his bodyguard strolled the hospital grounds.
---
Fifteen bits later they ended up at the greenhouse, of course, and Hart reached out and knocked loudly on the glass doors.
No one answered, and after a bit or so he knocked again.
This time a figure came up to the door and Lyla peeked her head out, rolling her eyes so far back she nearly lost them when she saw who it was.
"Hart," she said sharply, eyebrows raised.
"I thought you'd be here," he smiled.
"What are you doing out?"
"The nurses let me take a break."
Lyla smiled back, the expression just as sharp as her voice. "Liar." But she opened the greenhouse door wider, letting him in.
"I'm calling your nurses," she told him, and Hart said pleasantly, "Do what you will."
"Ives?" she asked, and a gentleman Hart had met before stuck his head around the nearest corner. He had a smudge of dirt on his cheek, his immaculate hair slightly ruffled, and some sort of plant in his hand. "Hart is here," she said, and he said, setting his handful of leaves carefully down, "Ah. I'll alert the hospital." With a careful bow at Hart, he added, "Good to see you again."
"And you," Hart said, and settled into the nearest chair which happened to be a stool propped up next to a low table.
On the table were large rectangular containers, and when Hart craned over the lip of the boxes to see, he noticed they were full of little pink mushrooms with purple specks. "The magic mushrooms," he said, these were the same mushrooms he had been taking in the tests, and Lyla sat next to him on another stool, exasperated.
"Just don't touch anything," she warned. "You're lucky I let you in. You're not even supposed to be here, it's workers only. But you are a Venora," she said, and she and Aukey shared a long-suffering look.
---
Five bits later and Hart had convinced her that yes, he was going to touch stuff, and so he might as well help her. The mushrooms were set for mass production, the delta trials that Hart was going through just a final confirmation, and so they needed to collect the mushrooms' spores. Spores were a dust-like powder in the part of the mushroom called the gills, Lyla said, which she could store and use like seeds to grow.
After the inital release of the product in the Eastern Settlement, which Lyla called a teaser, they would grow as many mushrooms as they could and hike up the price three-fold to sell to the citizens of Rynmere. No one knew how such a product would be accepted --though it was likely the fungus would quickly be banned-- but that only meant that people who really wanted it would pay more for less.
"The Thorn family is usually at a disadvantage," she explained as she showed Hart how to collect the mushrooms' spores. "We deal with pharmaceuticals professionally; it's what we do. The other mechant families, however, will not think twice about capitalizing upon a promising substance like this one, and they, being concerned with other things, don't always do proper testing to see if what they're selling will have a negative impact on people's health."
"So they'll sell the mushrooms without making sure they're safe," Hart said, and Lyla nodded, saying, "And for protecting our clientele we tend to lose money to competitors who haven't put in nearly as much work."
"It's a problem," she said, sighing. "My father, grandfather, and aunt have taken a lot of convincing to do things the right way. Even within the family it's hard to explain to others why safety should come before profit. Dependability is the only thing stopping them from poisoning our customers like the rest. If people here begin to think our products are bad, they won't buy. And even my grandfather doesn't want that, he'd do anything to uphold the family's good name."
"It's odd to think," she said then, "That it's only thanks to family pride --family arrogance-- that we're known for our crest," she said, tapping the broach pinned to her collar, some sort of flower, "And not a skull and crossbones."
---
Collecting the spores turned out to be easy. The mushroom was made of a stalk and cap; the underside of the cap had the mushroom's gills. To collect the spores they cut off the mushroom's stalk as close to the cap as possible, being careful not to crush or disturb any part of it, and then placed the cap gills-side-down on a piece of paper. Lyla got a little glass dropper --which she called a pipette-- and put a drop of water on the top of the mushroom cap. Then she took a glass jar and put it over the mushroom like a hood.
In a day's time the mushrooms' spores would have come out onto the paper; this was called a spore print. Lyla went over to a cabinet at the side of the greenhouse and brought over an example of a finished print.
"Then you just scrape the spores off when you need them," she said. "Put them in appropriate growing conditions and, depending on the species, they grow quite fast."
---
Perhaps thirty bits had passed in the greenhouse before the nurses came, feet tapping and fingers wagging, to drag him away. Hart waved goodbye to Lyla and the gentleman, Ives, and then he and Aukey made their way back to his room.
"I didn't do anything strenuous," he promised as one of the nurses sat him down and re-took his heart rate. She gave him a despicable look. But soon enough he was forgiven and she flitted around, fussing with him, smiling though she pretended not to want to.
"I can't believe you put the skeleton in the bed," she said, and Hart smiled back.
"I thought it'd be funny when you guys realized I was gone. You know like, you think it's me under the covers and then look! I'm dead!"
The nurse swatted at him. A moment later she was plumping the pillows.
"We may have to throw out your data for the last test, you know," she chastised. "I'll have to consult Lyla about it. Even so, I expect a urine sample and I will be taking your blood."
"When's the next test start?" Hart asked. It was nearly 18th break now.
"At 22nd break."
She looked much too satisfied when Hart let out a groan.
---
3rd of Saun
22nd break
At the twenty-second break of the third day of Saun on the dot, Hart was given his fourth sample of mushroom. This one was in pill form, the mushroom having been dried and ground up into a fine powder. "For a slower release," the nurse explained, and Hart took the pill and water and gulped it down.
It was late again so he slept on a schedule.
Hart had been hopeful the pill would do something, but like the others it was a bore.
---
4th of Saun
7th break
Nine hours later --eight for the test plus the hour of reprieve-- Hart took his final dose of mushroom. This was cut up and steeped in boiling water to make a purplish tea, and Hart drank the lukewarm liquid before settling down to wait. He had given up expecting anything interesting to happen.
So of course this time it did.
Twenty-five minutes in, the room began to distort and he felt a little nauseous. He reached out to ring the nurses' bell and the sound of it seemed to explode in his head. Strange colors danced in the air, and hands over his ears to stop the ringing he waited patiently for the nurse to come.
Half a bit later she was there and she walked him through a bunch of questions.
"Nauseous," Hart answered the first one.
"On a scale of one to ten?"
"Two. I rang the bell and the sound, something, I don't know-- the bell made my head ring. My head was the bell."
"Mmm," she said.
"Then it was like my eyes turned on. Everything is colors now."
"Everything is colors," the nurse repeated as she scribbled it down.
"Even the sounds is --are?-- colors. Everything is colors."
"Okay Hart," she said.
An hour later he was lying on his back on the bed the wrong way, with his head over the side. The nurse had caught him once when he'd almost fallen off. Everything looked right-side-up as he lay there even though it was upside-down, and he knew it was because he knew everything about this room, down to each little speck of light. If he wanted he could count the light in the air like currents of sand swirling in with the tide. The grains of light mixed and interacted with the emotions that had gathered here, colors and sparks that drifted from his and the nurse's bodies. He felt he could read minds.
Another hour passed.
The room had moved on, the colors and sounds and emotions combining together to form a ship and Hart was in it; the room had become the Jovy Akor. He was belowdecks, and the ship rocked to the sound of the rain outside the hospital window, patter patter sway. The curtains were the ship's sails and for some reason they were here in the cabin, and it didn't matter because despite the ceiling the mast seemed to fit.
Though there was very little wind and the sails were inside he could tell he was going very fast. The nausea had passed with the rocking of the ship and Hart had become something else, something that was going somewhere or already was, and for a moment he knew where he --where it, the Jovy Akor-- had been. Had gone. He was going there, quickly now; no, he wasn't going he was already there. It had been so fast; how hadn't he seen it before?
"I'm there," he murmured, eyes falling shut and one wrist against his forehead, but then he was distracted by the nurse's voice, which was asking him in steady blue words what was going on and Hart had to explain again.
"You should take the tea," he said when he'd finished trying to describe it all. This was not the first time he'd suggested it, but she demurred again with a little laugh.
"Just sayin'," he said, "The tea will help."
Two hours later and the effects had begun to wane. "Too bad," Hart said, then again, "Too bad." He paused. "I really don't mean to keep saying that," he said apologetically. "It's just that I'm high."
"It's alright," the nurse said, smiling again.
Half a break later he was tired and the nurse tucked him in, probably afraid if she didn't he would fall off the bed. She told him that if he wanted to he could sleep.
Then Hart was sleeping fitfully; he kept waking up to the bark of the dog.
"There is no dog," the nurse said soothingly, and Hart felt himself frown.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
---
When he next woke it was to someone gently shaking him, and Hart opened his eyes. His mouth tasted of foul mushroom tea and was very, very dry, and Lyla was there at his bedside.
She said something he didn't catch.
"Mmm?"
"You okay? We were worried."
"I'm fine."
"One last withdrawal, then," she said, watching him, "And you're free to go." She handed him a glass of water. "Here, drink this."
Hart sat up and drank the water down. He was so thirsty. "Again," Lyla said. Each glass was eight ounces and he did as he was told. Then he drank a third.
He marched to the bathroom. His legs felt heavy like they were still asleep as he completed the last urine test, and he came out and waited as Lyla called for the nurse to take his blood.
"Any lingering nausea?" Lyla asked as she wrote a few final notes on the bottom of his sheet, and Hart shook his head. "Are you drowsy?"
He thought for a moment. "I don't think so."
"You sure you're okay?" she asked and Hart nodded, stretching, trying to wake his legs. He reached for his bag. "Where did that come from?" He'd found an apple core in one of the pockets, brown with age, and plucked it out and slung the bag over his shoulder and stood.
"Oh, breakfast some days ago," he said and crossed to open the window. He tossed the apple core out onto the lawn for the birds.
"No, not that," Lyla said, and pointed to his head. "That."
Hart put a hand up, not knowing what she was talking about, and his fingers came across something foreign tucked behind his ear. He took it off.
A flower. It was small and purple and soft, not yet wilted, and at the sight of it--
--immortals!--
--he fell back with a gasp, stumbling to sit on the bed.
"Hart?" Lyla asked. She was at his side, hand on his shoulder. His heart was pounding so hard she must have felt it; at once she took her hand away to ring the bell for the nurse. "Now!" she called to the hallway.
"No stop," Hart objected weakly. "I'm okay."
Fifteen trills later his heart had begun to settle down. "What is it, Hart?" Lyla asked. "Where did it come from?"
"Do-- do these drugs--" He was trying to think of what to say, how to ask. "Do these drugs have anything to do with the gods?"
"The gods?" Lyla repeated. "Like the immortals?"
Hart nodded his head.
"No," she said, confused and still concerned as a nurse appeared, panting, in the doorway. It looked as if she'd run.
"Oh," he said.
The story was hard to explain because it was a dream. He remembered a dog barking. That was Jack, he told them, and he thought he had followed the little dog's sound. He must have gotten out of bed, he said, because the dream had felt so real, but Lyla confirmed he had never gotten up. He hadn't woken, hadn't even moved as far as anyone could tell.
The dog had been somewhere far away and he had gone to where she was. Or at least he thought he had. But when he found her she hadn't been there, the dream had changed or at least something had, and suddenly he was in a field of flowers.
"And there was this woman," he said. "And she gave me this and she-- she was an immortal, I know she was."
By the time he had finished telling the tale three other nurses had gathered around, and after the story they checked him over again, carefully this time, and then they all looked at the flower curled in the palm of his hand.
"There are no flowers like that around here," Lyla said. "I would know."
"Hart," she said a moment later in an odd little voice. He had returned the flower to his ear and looked up at her tone. She paused before speaking again. "You do know how long you've been here?" she asked.
"It's the..." Hart said, trying to figure it out. "I took the last dose at seventh break," he said. He glanced at the clock then the window, telling the time. "It's later than I thought," he admitted. "The 21st break of the day."
"Yes, but on what day?" Lyla asked.
"What do you mean? It's the fourth."
"It's the 21st break on the sixth, Hart." They were all watching him. "You've been asleep for two trials."
"I what?" He was glad he was sitting down.
"Did nobody tell you?" one of the nurses said.
"That dream," Lyla asked now, obviously thinking, "Do you think it-- I don't know, it did something to you? You slept so soundly we thought it could have been an adverse reaction to the mushrooms, perhaps even an allergy, but now--"
"Maybe," Hart said. He was trying to clear his head. "How long have I been here, then? Since the third, wasn't it?"
"The second," Lyla corrected, "You've been here nearly five days."
"Five days," Hart murmured, and stood.
It should have been fine but he was still confused, and it caused him to fumble for a moment as if he might fall. At once all five of the women objected, crowding around him, and Hart held up a hand to keep them at bay. He hadn't even remembered Aukey was there until the man suddenly stepped up. The women, save for Lyla, backed off when the bodyguard demanded they give him room and Hart looked at the guard, grateful. "I'm sorry but I've got to go," he told them. "It's the-- it's the sixth and I've got to get home. Tristan-- Tristan will be worried, won't he?"
"He will," Aukey said, glad to have Hart up and out of this room, and Hart paused and looked at the bodyguard again.
"You don't think-- the immortal, she-- About Tristan--" His thoughts weren't adding up quite right yet but there was something there. But if his words weren't clear the other gave no indication. Aukey only said, "Let's go."
"Yes," Hart agreed after a moment. "Let's."
Quickly enough now that he wanted out Hart was discharged. At the door Lyla handed him a small bag, his days' pay, and for a moment longer than necessary she gripped his hand. "I know you want to leave," she said. "But Hart. Please remember. You must stay in the area for at least seven days. Just to make sure, okay? I'm-- I'm worried about you."
"Okay," Hart said. He took his hand back but turned a little more towards her. He still had the small bag of coins in his hand and he took a few out now. "Lyla, I know this sounds strange but-- well, I think I'd like to buy some of those drugs."
"The mushrooms," he added at the look on her face.
"Absolutely not," she said.
"Please," he pleaded softly. "Don't deny me this. You weren't there. That immortal--" He touched the flower in his hair. "There's something I have to know. I have to," he stressed, because she still didn't look sure.
"Hart--"
He put the coins in her hand. "Please. Please."
She didn't look happy, but she gave a shout and soon enough Ives was there. "Thank you," Hart said, and took the small brown parcel the gentleman had given him, putting it in his bag.
"Don't use them too soon," Lyla said. "And if you do, only with supervision." And this to Aukey, "And if he does use them, and he falls asleep and won't wake, bring him here at once."
"Thank you," Hart said again, and at Lyla's glare Aukey tipped his head.
"Hart," Lyla said once he had turned to go. This was something she did, waited til the last moment. He glanced over his shoulder but she was looking away.
"Do be careful," was all she said.
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