Balance

Lee wrenched the table’s wreckage off of my and helped me carefully to my feet, looking around and making sure nobody was paying any attention to us. So far, the Glamoured pendants seemed to be working perfectly.

            “Are you bleeding anywhere?” she asked, looking me over.

            “Not badly. Probably all fucked up inside, though. And I’m pretty sure my arm is broken.”

            “Yeah, it’s all purple.” She let me stand against a shelf while she collected the renegade’s Text, and paused for a moment to examine the wasted body. “I knew that b***h had done something like this.”

            “What?”

            “Look,” she said, pointing to the corpse’s right hand. “She wrote Glyphs on herself. That’s how she blasted you after you took her Text away. Which would have otherwise been a great move, by the way. Good thinking.”

            I looked closer at the hand in question, and the scribbles I’d noticed before were indeed Glyphs. Huh. Well, it made sense. Better than fumbling around with a book, in the middle of a ridiculous battle.

            It hadn’t exactly worked for me, after all.

            Something to think about.

            Lee returned to my side, looking exhausted. “Do you feel up to a teleport?”

            I felt the blood leave my face at the idea of dealing with that nightmare in this condition, but I nodded. “What about you?”

            “I can make it to a light door. I’ll catch up with you at your apartment, then we’ll get you patched up. Five minutes. Will you be okay?”

            “Did I ever tell you I got hit by a car once?”

            Lee looked carefully at my eyes. “Are you trying to be funny or do you have a concussion?” She looked around, then growled in frustration. “F**k me. I can’t leave you alone in this condition, you’re going to have to walk for a little while.”

            “Why don’t I just fly?”

            “All right, you’re good and scrambled. Come on, I can’t carry you.” She moved to pull on my good arm. I was having a hard time thinking, but I gestured to my Text. Lee looked at it and then back at me, eyebrows raised. “What about it?”

            “Glyph in there, makes me float. Right?”

            “Right…”

            “Carry me easy, right?”

            A light went on in her head. “Another good guess from the new guy. I don’t know if you ought to Read anything right now though, you need your strength.”

            “Got enough juice for one spell, I think. What I need is a drink or ten.” My mind was curving in and out of lucidity. One second I would feel normal, if dizzy. The next second I’d be talking like a caveman.

            “Nobody has ever gotten as fucked up as we’re going to, tonight. But we’ve gotta get away from here first.” She flipped open my Text and found the correct page. “It should be here. When you’re ready.”

            I looked at the page, had to concentrate to focus on the wiggly Glyph, and just barely managed to mutter the correct syllables. What energy I had was drained away, like somebody had unplugged a hole in my head. I completely ragdolled into Lee’s arms, but she picked me up as easily as an empty duffel bag and started a painful jog towards the exit.

            Luckily, not weighing much meant less pressure on my snapped arm, although it still hurt with every step. By her movements, I could tell she was trying to be careful and was grateful. “You kept me safe,” I slurred, surprised that I was talking.

            “Of course.”

            “Was really cool,” I managed. “Bookshelf thing was cool.”

            “Thanks. Okay, there’s nobody around.” I saw that we were in a side hallway. “Keep an eye out.” She snapped open a pouch on her belt and produced one of the door tokens, slapping it to the plain wall and conjuring a glaring violet doorway. She carried me through, and I listened to it whisper shut behind us.

            Everything was blue. Confusing.

            Oh, Lee’s room.

            “I think you’re probably sad,” I said, again without meaning to say so out loud. “Blue means sad.”

            “And I think you,” she replied, levering me onto her bed, “have a concussion. Can you stand?”

            “Don’t think so.”

            “Good, that means I can trust you to stay here. I’m going to get Wylla. Don’t fall asleep.” She looked at me for a moment, a strange expression on her face, then turned and ran out her door. I blinked. Weird day.

            Who was Wylla?

            I feebly tried to sit up a little, failed pathetically, and relaxed. Lee’s bed was wide and soft, and I could feel myself sinking as my spelled-away weight returned. I wondered why I should be heavy if we were on the Moon. Didn’t really make sense. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before now.

            Lee was pretty. Hadn’t really given that much thought either.

            Also very good at fighting.

            I was terrible. Too slow. Couldn’t find Glyphs fast enough.

            “Ugh,” I said, and tried sitting up again. “Uggh.” Everything was so blue!

            Sleepy.

            “Tyler! You’d better not be dead!”

            Who?

            I managed to sit up without even trying to, and was awfully proud of myself until I realized I’d been lifted by four arms. Oh well. The point was, I was up. I looked up to see who’d grabbed me, and looked directly into a pair of glowing green eyes.

            “Whoa!” I shouted, and sort of flopped in dismay, but got nowhere. Once I calmed down, I realized the eyes were attached to a perfectly normal human face, a young woman with blonde dreadlocks and a kind smile. She regarded me with those bizarrely luminous eyes for another moment, then blinked and the glow was gone.

            Her normal eyes were still a dazzling green, the color of sunlight through leaves. “He’s banged up real good,” she said, in a surprising southern American accent. “Definitely a concussion, internal bleeding, left ulna’s got a clean break, and there’s a muscle torn in his heel. What’d he do, try to buy you a drink?”

            “We got into it with a Renegade. He’s pretty green, but I didn’t think we’d get worked over so badly. Didn’t think he’d get hurt.” She sounded a little choked up, maybe. I don’t know. “I fucked up. Left him alone, and he nearly got killed.”

            “He’ll be fine,” the dreadlocked girl said, soothingly. She radiated calm like a real-life Buddha. I felt better just being there. “If you still feel guilty in an hour, you can apologize to him. Relax. Get some rest.”

            “I can’t relax. F**k me, I have to bring this f*****g book,” she suddenly shouted, flinging the renegade’s Text across the room, “back to those f*****g white-collar b******s!” She sat down hard on the bed, jostling me. I managed not to yelp at the jolt in my arm.

            “Lee.” The dreadlocked girl simply stated Lee’s name, and I saw her slump visibly, as though a deal of tension had left her. “Breathe. You’re safe, your friend is safe, you’re fine.”

            “I know. I know.”

            “You can’t make things better by throwing stuff.”

            “I know, Wylla. I know everything you’re going to say. And I appreciate it, but I can’t just chill, I’m too strung out on adrenaline or something. F**k.”

            “I could make you something for that.”

            “I’ll be self-medicating just plenty, later on. Thanks, though.”

            Dimly, I was aware that Wylla made a face of disapproval. “Alcohol, huh?”

            “Only way to go.”

            “To each her own, I suppose.”

            I was having a hard time following the conversation, so I stopped trying. For a few seconds, everything waved in and out of darkness, and I think I slumped because both girls went, “Oof,” and caught me.

            “All right,” I think Wylla said, “I’m going to work on him. You sit down and take it easy for a little while.”

            “You need anything?”

            “I brought what I need. Thanks though.” She smiled  and looked into my blurry eyes, her own eyes alighting with the green glow again. “What’s your name?”

            “I’m… uh… Trick.” It was hard to breathe.

            “That’s an interesting name,” she murmured comfortingly, probably thinking I was joking. Or crazy. “Do you know where you are?”

            “Blue room,” I managed.

            “Very good. Do you understand why I’m here?”

            “You’re… some sort of doctor?” A rare second of lucidity. It was all right.

            “I’m a Mender. And I’m going to fix you up, good as new. I need your help, though.” She rummaged in a pack next to us on the bed, without breaking eye contact. “I need you to try to stay awake, and keep focusing on me, on my eyes. Can you do that?”

            I couldn’t imagine looking away from that green light. It calmed me, made me feel warm, and safe, and whole. I could have lost myself there forever. “Yeah. Yeah.”

            “Good. Focus on me, now.”

            I stared into the light and felt complete. I only vaguely reminded myself to breathe every so often, drifting painlessly in the healing light of Wylla’s eyes. From time to time I would hear female voices whispering, be aware of the motion of their bodies, sights and sounds and sensations that were outside the light, and therefore held no meaning.

            Home.

            Wylla’s eyes felt like home. A safe place. I was home-

            -“All right,” she said cheerfully, lifting her face away from mine, emerald light fading away, “That ought to do it. How do you feel?”

            I rubbed tears out of stinging eyes. I was crying and I didn’t understand why. I nodded, taking deep, calming breaths, trying to control myself. “Good. Better. I’m okay.”

            “Good,” she said, reassuring. “Now tell me, where are you?”

            “Lee’s room. At the Nexus,” I sniffed, regaining some composure. “The Moon. Who are you? What did you just do?”

            She smiled, stroked my hair out of my eyes. “I helped you heal. It’s my calling. May I have your left arm, please?” I raised my arm, only realizing after a few seconds that it worked flawlessly and painlessly. “That’s very good. Touch all your fingers to your thumb?”

            We went through a few simple tests of my left arm and foot, and each time Wylla would pronounce my recovery ‘good’. It seemed, from her utterly relaxed manner, as though she knew everything would be perfect, and was simply giving me time to collect myself.

            “Where’s Lee?”

            “Sleeping,” Wylla said quietly, smiling towards a corner. I sat up easily and followed her gaze, and saw Lee, still in Conclave blacks and armed for battle, passed out atop a pile of clothes. She was snoring. “She refused to rest, so I told her just to sit down and watch me. You may have noticed I can have a… calming effect, on people.”

            “I did notice that. Um.”

            “Yes?”

            “I’m sorry about, well, crying like that. I feel kind of silly now. Is that… you know, normal? When you fix people?” I could feel my face turning red. I’m not exactly a macho man, but breaking down in front of strangers is never a proud moment.

            Wylla searched my eyes for a moment. “A Mender’s power is balance. Harmonizing energies and states of being, to promote healing.” She indicated Lee’s bed, where I noticed piles of flaky ash littering the covers and my black clothes. “I sacrifice certain plants and reagents, and the balance is that your body is healed. Rejuvenated. Look,” she said, holding up my repaired arm. “What do you see?”

            I examined my arm critically, searching for any bruise or scar. Nothing. Running my other hand up my arm, I felt no pain or even soreness, only smooth skin stretched over firm muscles, completely-

            -wait just a second.

            “What?!” I leaped up out of the bed, tossing ash all over the place, moving to Lee’s wardrobe and opening the doors. A box of bullets spilled out, but I was too busy staring at the mirror to care.

            My skeletal face was full and healthy-looking, and my bony arms were roped in new muscle, if anything more firm and powerful than I’d been before discovering the Text’s wasting influence. I wasn’t big, or muscular, or powerful-looking, I was just… healthy. Restored.

            “I’ve smoked some plants in my day, but holy s**t.”

            I turned to see Wylla smiling beatifically, watching me admire my repaired body. She laughed, a sound of pure pleasure. “I don’t think it’ll ever get old, watching you skinny kids get excited about having a little meat on your bones. My grandma would’ve loved you.”

            “Was she a healer, too?” I asked, lifting my shirt and gasping at the sight of a flat abdomen instead of a rack of ribs.

            “Just an old lady from Carolina,” she laughed, “But there was nothing she liked so much as fattening people up. Of course, her victims tended to stay fat. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again before long, and Lee looks about due for a session with me.”

            Something clicked. “So that’s how Readers manage not to kill ourselves? Being spelled by a healer? Sorry, Mender?”

            “Lee’s been coming to me for a year or so. Most of you people, sorry to use that phrase, don’t do a whole lot of spell casting. Normal diet and rest is enough for them to stay healthy. For the more active Reader, however…”

            “Guess we’d be pretty screwed without you, huh?”

            “It’s all about balance, Tyler, as I mentioned before.”

            “I don’t understand,” I said, sitting back down. Wylla was packing a few small bottles and baggies into a larger beaded pouch.

            “Did you enjoy being Mended?”

            “Um.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. “It was… incredible, to be honest. Worth breaking an arm for, I think.” I didn’t even know if I was joking or not.

            “Well there you go. With the pain of battle, you earn the pleasure of recovery. For risking your life in service to a cause, you earn rest and satisfaction.” She said it as though it were rote, as though the concept of balance were some sort of catechistically reinforced mantra. “That, I think, is why you cried.”

            “What?”

            “You seem to guard your emotions. You’re… stoic, I guess? It’s all a joke, nothing gets to you? Day in, day out, no feelings?”

            I was chilled at how close she’d landed to it. SSDD. “I guess.”

            “What was it like, when Rebecka left you?”

            “What?!” I gasped, wondering how she knew.

            “Lee filled me in on you. How did you react?”

            I thought about it for a moment. “I… well, I went back to bed.”

            “You didn’t cry?”

            “No,” I murmured, shrugging.

            “Why not?”

            “I guess… she was right? I don’t know. It seemed fair. Seemed like I had it coming.”

            “So you had no right to have feelings, because she won the argument?”

            “I don’t know…”

            “What about when you went to bed with her, later? How did you feel?”

            I waited a moment before answering. “Uncomfortable, really.”

            “Why?”

            “I guess I thought I’d feel happy. Or relieved. Or… in love again. I just felt…” I could feel tears forming in my eyes again. “…empty.”

            Wylla placed a warm hand on mine. “I don’t mean to upset you.”

            “No, it’s all right… I just…” I shook my head. “I didn’t realize I was this way. I feel like I’m all fucked up and I didn’t even know it. Sorry.”

            “I’ve heard it all.” She smiled. As if she’d stopped smiling.

            I sat and concentrated on breathing for a minute. Wylla patiently sat with me, waiting. I don’t think I’d ever felt more comfortable around another person. In my life.

            Maybe that said something all by itself.

            “What should I do?” I asked, trying not to sound desperate. “I don’t know how to deal with any of this. I don’t know what to do next.”

            Wylla leaned forward and put her arms around me. Her hair smelled like freshly cut grass, like flowers, like a warm kitchen and good company. I felt that I was being embraced by the very meaning of peace. I began to wonder if she was completely human.

            “Find balance, Tyler. Feel. All you’ve seen today is panic and stress and violence. Let it hurt. Then find something good.” She leaned back and smiled her graceful smile. “And let it be good.”

            I stopped wondering. She was more of a human than I’d ever been in my life.

            “Thank you,” I whispered, “for all of it.”

            “We can only be who we are,” she replied sagely. “Thank me by living life.” She rose from the bed, shouldered her medicine bag, and glanced at Lee. “Tell her I had to run, and that she should come and see me before she does any more Reading.”

            “I will.”

            She nodded, smile unceasing, and left the room, closing the door behind her. The room suddenly seemed a little colder, a little less like a home.

I felt sad that she’d gone.

            And that was all right.

*

Reviews

[Ness]

This chapter made me want to get mended/healed really badly haha. I think it'll be interesting to see how getting hurt and getting healed will change Trick for the remainder of the story. And I wonder if he will still have the same thoughts about Lee now that he's not all concussed anymore

[UponATyme]

Broke my heart a little, to see him that way. But it's good. He's finding himself. This chapter pulled on my heartstrings.