“Yes. And so much had happened, there was so much grief, and I wasn’t paying much attention to his mind or what he was saying.” My mother’s voice picked up, the tears rising in her eyes. “And then he forgot her name. HeforgotLarka’s name.” The tears were spilling rapidly now, her voice rising with the hysterics.
His brown eyes fell somewhere distant, his face slackening as reality hit him like a mallet to the gut. Vacant. Defeated. The room was silent aside from the screeching of the chair every few seconds.
Solise stared at him intently, pursing her lips. A momentary flicker of pain crossed her face. “I’m going to give you a tonic,” she said evenly, my father turning his gaze to meet hers. “I want you to drink it morning and evening. It’s bitter, but it should help with the memory.” He nodded.
He shot a shaky palm out, shaking his head. “We don’t have the coin.”
“Then it is a gift,” she answered. “For a man who needs it.”
He flinched, his head shaking even more vigorously. “Nae, I can’t accept th-that–”
“I’m afraid I must insist, Sarek,” she said with a playful smile, the mood in the room lightening slightly. “Please.”
He stayed still for a moment, considering. Finally, he lowered his head in thanks. “The tremors will continue to plague you, I’m afraid, but so long as you continue to walk, to use the muscles in your legs, you should not lose your mobility.” Part of me relaxed with relief and I could tell by the shift in his shoulders that he felt the same thing. Solise began packing bottles and vials back into her case. I walked her to the door, planning to thank her and send her on her way, but something about the way she carried herself told me to follow her outside and shut the door behind us.
She turned to me as the door clicked shut. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes creased with worry, and any relief I had felt was gone in an instant. “I wished to speak with your mother, too,” she muttered quietly, looking at the closed door. “But you need to know that he will continue to worsen, Petra.” Her voice was grave, her eyes dark. I clenched my jaw, searching her face. “It would be cruel of me to tell him of his fate as he has deteriorated so much, but his best years are behind him.” My stomach fell to the floor. Words tried to form on my tongue but I swallowed them back. “The tonicwillhelp his memory for some time, but it will not stop the inevitable. He will continue to deteriorate until his heart can’t withstand the tremors. What I told him about walking was true — make sure he continues to move. That will slow it down, keep it from creeping to his legs, keep the muscles from wasting.” I shook my head, her words in my brain but not sticking in any way that made sense. “Quassus mors is what it looks like to me,” she said, her voice low and somber. “Rare. I’ve seen only one case in my days, while I was training at the academy.”
No.No.This wasn’t actually happening. I had hired a counterfeit healer, a poser. Just like Ingra hadn’t been a real soothsayer.
“Make sure he is taking the tonic,” she emphasized, her eyes boring into mine. Something about the look pulled my attention from the burning in my mind. “It will make the biggest difference for him. It is expensive to make, but when he runs out, come to me and I will mix you more.”
“We aren’t going to be able to pay–”
“My son Novis pulled the rope behind Larka at Cindregala,” she breathed. My body went numb. “He told me everything had happened so suddenly that he hadn’t the time to reach her before she went over the edge. Instinct took over and he backed into the crowd. He was…distraught.” She covered her mouth for a moment, contemplative. “He couldn’t keep food down. His sleep was interrupted by screaming nightmares in the days after. He had been struck in the head with a flaming chunk of wood, and though the wound wasn’t severe, he wouldn’t let me tend to it. He told me he deserved the pain for standing by as your sister died.” My mouth went dry. “I stood in the back of the crowd at the vigil held on these very steps just days after and noticed the slight shaking of your father. Much less violent then,” she added quietly. She looked at the door behind me once again. “He’s deteriorated quickly, from what I can see. When you came to me to ask for aid, I recognized you, knew who I’d be seeing today.”
I fought through the numbness. “Your son did what he could.” It was all I could manage to choke out. I wanted to scream at him for letting her die but hold him and tell him I knew, Iunderstoodthe guilt.
“He stepped off the Cliffs of Malarrey the night of the vigil.”
Her words were a cannonball in my chest, tearing through my ribs to hit me directly in the heart, then dropping heavy into my stomach. I opened my mouth to speak, the words drowned by the shock as my head shook. “I know the grief your parents carry. The griefyoucarry. I will do what I can to make him as comfortable as possible, to shoulder some of the burden I know weighs heavy upon your family.” My head was still shaking as I stared at her in disbelief, her words still ricocheting through my skull. I was going to vomit. I was going to scream. The emotion swelled so severely inside of me that it threatened to break the few ribs that the cannonball had left whole. She nodded in understanding, giving my arm a light squeeze as she turned to leave.
“Petra,” Solise called from the top step. I stood in place, as frozen as I was that miserable day. “I’m sorry,” I heard her say as she descended the stairs into the street of the poor, the wretched, and the rats.
???
My mother fought to keep herself together as she padded down the narrow, creaky stairs from my bedroom to find my father still sitting in the kitchen chair, a vial of tonic sitting on the table. I knew better than to say anything to him then, allowing him the space to sort out what was sprung upon him.
Wanting things to feel as normal as possible, I had pulled her upstairs under the guise of needing help reattaching a fallen curtain, sitting her on my thin mattress and relaying what Solise had told me outside. I told her she needed to keep quiet so as not to alert Da of anything more amiss than what already was. I held her as she sobbed silently, her body convulsing violently in my arms.
I was so close to breaking, mere inches from it, but I had to hold everyone else together. I couldn’t do that if I was in pieces.
My mother rushed to my father, quickly taking a seat beside him and raising the tonic to his lips. He choked it down, pausing twice to gag. “She wasn’t kidding. Shit’s r-rancid.” A slight smile pulled at his lips and he let a small chuckle go despite himself. I saw my mother’s face soften at the noise, the first time he’d laughed since the day of Cindregala, before it turned into a nightmare. “Th-thank you,” he said, his voice small, weak, wavering. I closed the distance between us, leaning down behind him to wrap an arm across his quaking shoulders. His hand rested across my forearm.
“Anything for you, Da.” My mother placed her hand on my father’s knee, my own hand coming to rest atop hers. She and I exchanged a glance so thick with unspoken words it threatened to drown me.
We hadn’t reached a conclusion as to whether we should tell him the truth. Whether we should tell him that the tremors would kill him. She and I both said nothing as the three of us sat together. “W-where did you g-get the money?” he finally asked, pulling me from my worried trance.
“Please, Da, don’t worry about it.”
I saw my mother purse her lips at him as he scanned her face. Her eyes were the size of saucers we couldn’t afford, aglow in the low candle light of the kitchen.
“Petra,” he croaked. “Don’t get caught.”
???
We fell into a routine. I provided. Ma took care of Da. And Da did his best to function. He continued his nightly walks, showing the smallest signs of excitement when the shadows grew longer each day and the sun sank toward the Cliffs of Malarrey. The thought of the cliffs set my soul into a dizzying, sorrowful downfall, trying to think of the faces of the men behind Larka. This man, Novis, had died because he didn’t save Larka.
I hadn’t been alone in my guilt.