A Place To Bloom

A Friend Like Chirpy

I couldn't tell the time for the thick clouds overhead, but the day's training was over and all of us were drenched in sweat with hardly an exertion. That baby vita'o lizard creature thing ran up to Geraln and circled around at his feet, and he picked her up and put her back on his shoulder. "Here you go, Chirpy."

She rubbed her tiny head in his cheek.

"Chirpy?" I asked.

Geraln answered, but his attention was on her. "They haven't given her a name yet; I'm just calling her that for now."

Davod furrowed his brow. Kelint, Rock, and Northstar had gone off to spend the money, and the five men from Kyoen looked on in disbelief.

As we gathered in the practice yard, Ales emerged from the medical ward with a smile on his face. I ran up and gave him an effusive hug.

"Ouch!" he cried.

"Sorry. I can't believe you're alive, man! You should be dead right now!"

He smirked, "well fuck you too, man!"

"Consider me fucked, then!" I couldn't help but chuckle. I looked all over his face. His cheeks were flush, his heavy brow and deep-set eyes peered back at me, and his strong lips fixed in a solid grin. "I'm glad you're alive, but it's still a miracle."

Geraln spoke between us, "maybe, Caleb, you don't know everything you think you know."

His imp chirped in agreement.

Massi stepped close to join us; the scars that split his eyebrows glistened of sweat. "Yeah, man. He got stabbed; what's the big deal?"

I turned to him. "Do you know what sepsis is?"

"Why?" Massi grinned. "Is she pretty?"

The others laughed. They didn't know. How could I explain? The friar in Ulum had said gebu'i could cure the lover's pox; he didn't say anything about sepsis, and none of these men had the slightest idea how revolutionary that was. Revolutionary was an understatement. Everything I knew—everything I thought I knew—was turned upside-down the moment I saw Ales emerge from the medical ward. If the secret got out, millions upon millions of lives could be spared.

The old woman at the apothecary was right—gebu'i was a miracle.

A man came from around the building and approached us, and Massi's eyes shifted from Chirpy to him for a moment. He was a native—average height with exceedingly dark green skin, long white hair, and bright yellow eyes. He was about our age, I guessed, with a sturdy, muscular build and wore nothing but a black silk rectangle for a loincloth embroidered in gold thread with the image of a snake fighting an alligator. As he approached, his bright yellow eyes bulged for a moment as he looked at me, Geraln, and Davod, then back to me again. Then, he shook his head vigorously and faced Davod. "Davod of Gath."

Davod stepped forward. "I am he."

"ʃʊsi xeŋise... dowa ʒʌgosa peyumi"

Davod raised one corner of his lips and looked at me with his brow furrowed. I shrugged.

Faren answered him with a smooth vibe. "ʃʊsi means please, and se is you. So he's asking you to do something. I think."

Geraln added, "se is the subject form of you, sa is the object form. dowa is want... uh... that's all I got."

I gaped at how much those two knew already; I was falling behind. The man passed his eyes back and forth between Geraln and myself, then faced Davod and repeated in Herali with a fluency as though he'd been born in the mountains alongside us. "Please come. Peyumi wants to speak with you."