Does It Matter?

Chapter 14

"Okay," Maric said after a long moment of hesitation. He didn't want to, but he needed a next step. He needed to do something. He found the ratty old jacket Dara had insisted on keeping with him tucked into a corner of the wagon, folded it up, and gently lay Dara's body down with his head resting on it.

He gave Dara one final look, hoping by some impossible miracle to see his chest rise and fall, and then climbed down out of the wagon.

He stood, passive, as Mathers unbuttoned his shirt. It stuck to him in places, a mix of his own blood and Dara's dried into it.

The cut on his chest had split the skin open into a wound the size of a bronze coin. It would need to be stitched and would leave a scar. Good. This had been the worst day of Maric's life, but he never wanted to forget it.

"Hey!" Brayan shouted, and Maric looked up to see that the little girl from earlier had climbed into the back of the wagon. She had a cup of water in hand and was pouring it onto Dara's face.

She screeched and thrashed as Brayan grabbed her by the back of the shirt, spilling the contents of the cup of water everywhere. "He's thirsty!"

Brayan lifted her out of the wagon and set her on the ground. "We don't play with corpses. That's disrespectful."

The little girl tried to twist away, but Brayan had a firm hold on the back of her shirt. "What's a corpse?"

"A dead person."

"He's not dead," she insisted, trying to twist away again with no success. "He's thirsty."

"You're more qualified than our doctor then, are you?" Brayan asked her, but Maric could see his mind ticking over, could see Brayan's eyes searching her face and picking out her dark hair, her eyes the same almond shape as Dara's. She had Eth blood in her.

And Eth blood on her, now, because she'd been touching Dara.

Mathers climbed into the back of the wagon and pressed his fingers against Dara's throat, against his wrist. Bent his ear close to Dara's mouth and listened for breathing. The grim expression on his face told them all they needed to know: Dara was still very much dead.

Brayan turned the little girl around to face him and held her by the shoulders. "This isn't a game, okay? This is very serious. I need to know why you think he's alive."

The little girl leant back against the hold Brayan had on her, forcing him to support her weight. "Well, he just is because, um. Dead people aren't thirsty because they can't be."

"How do you know he's thirsty?" Brayan asked.

"Umm..." The little girl's gaze wandered around, taking in each of them. "I don't know."

Brayan sighed. "Right."

"He's really thirsty. I don't like it. Make him drink."

"Mathers," Maric said. "I know it's a long shot, but I'm going to need you to get some water into him. Can you do that?"

Mathers thought about it for a moment. "I honestly don't know. He won't breathe it in at least, but getting it past his throat when he can't swallow will be a challenge."

"I can get fluid into his stomach," Thayne said as he started going through his saddlebag.

Maric returned to the cart and Mathers helped him lift Dara out of it. As soon as Brayan saw that they were moving, he hurried ahead into the inn. By the time Maric made it inside Brayan had a key in hand and was ready to lead the way upstairs.

The time they'd delayed outside had been enough for the staff to light a fire in their nicest room and get the beginnings of a hot bath going. Maric laid Dara down on the bed and carefully removed his shirt.