Kared's Children - Chapter 3

"Water."

"Oh. Perhaps you’d like some. Yes; that makes sense. I could wring your shirt dry but that water was dirty. She had used it to bathe you. She should be back soon. I’m not sure. But I guess I’ll get you water now. To drink, not to bathe." The door opened, and the old man went out.

Damon swallowed. The old fellow talked a lot. The silence after he’d gone was nice. He wiggled his left fingers. Maybe they just were stiff, but every time he moved them, something complained in his arm.

The old man returned, almost trotting; he was carrying a small brown cup. He placed its cool surface against Damon’s lips and dribbled water into Damon’s mouth. "Slowly, slowly." The water dribbled in.

Damon swallowed. The water was ice-cold. He swallowed again.

"It’s from the brook," Perth said. "Cold, isn’t it?"

Damon tried to lift a hand toward the cup, but Perth resisted. "Oh no. Yes. No. Let me do it. Not too much. Careful. Slowly. Let me do it."

Damon drank, and every time he needed to pause for breath, Perth seemed to know it. At last, the old man pulled the cup away. "More in a little while. You must not drink too much too quickly. Too quickly? Too much? Yes. No. Not quickly too much." He set the cup on the table behind Damon’s head, then stepped back and crouched again on his haunches, and regarded Damon satisfactorily. "Another patient saved. No one dies when Perth’s around. Though who will keep Perth from dying is a different story. Because then, although Perth still will be around, Perth will die. A conundrum, eh? Well. I talk too much."

"Where am I?"

"In my home, of course. You’ve been sleeping on my bed since she brought you here. What’s that? Fifteen days now? Eleven days? Yes? No. Nine days. Ten. No. Yes. Eleven days. You have been sleeping on my bed for eleven days. While I slept outside. Among the forest animals; the various creatures. Insects. Mice."

"Who? Who brought me?"

"No. Don’t worry. The insects didn’t bother me. I’m too old. Too tough. Like dried meat. No blood. Yes. No. The insects would have been disappointed in Perth; that much is true. Why, Aled brought you here, of course. Aled brought you."

"Aled?"

"Yes. Aled."

"Who?"

"Who what? Aled? No. Yes. No. Aled you wouldn’t ask about because I’d just answered and anyone would know you’d know your friend. No. Yes. Someone else. Who what? Perth? Yes. Maybe. Perth. You’re in his home. My home. I’m a healer. Yes. No. I was a healer. Yes. Yes. A healer. Yes. I am a healer and I am Perth. But still, perhaps. No. Maybe you mean you. Who are you? That I do not know. No. Maybe you don’t, either. Oh dear. That isn’t good. Who are you? Maybe Aled will know."

Damon sighed and lifted his hand behind his head to search for the cup.

Perth instantly was upright and above him. He took the cup and offered it to Damon’s lips. "Slowly. Slowly."

. . .

When Damon was ready, with Perth’s assistance he struggled to his feet. The old man waited quietly while Damon leaned against him, fighting the dizziness and nausea. His ribs screamed, but Damon made his way just as quietly, still leaning against the old man, toward the door of the room. The old man had seemed to focus, and when focused, able to still his chattering tongue.