Twilight Crossing. Susan Krinard
Читать онлайн книгу.
It hurts too much.”
“There’s nothing cowardly about you,” he said, looking through his med kit for a packet of pills.
“How many of the humans living out here are like that?” she asked.
“Most aren’t,” he said, trying to ease the sting of her chagrin. “Most only want to survive peacefully, as you do.” He picked out one of the pills. “This might help with the pain, but I won’t lie to you. You’re going to be uncomfortable.”
“I’ll take...whatever I can get.”
He offered the pain pill with a sip of water, and then gave her an antibiotic. His supply was limited, and he had to be careful about the dosage.
“Thank you,” she said. She looked into his eyes. “You could have been killed, fighting those men.”
“I was lucky. I was able to pose as one of them.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t think they...bathe very often.”
For the first time since her capture, Timon felt like laughing. “I’ll change,” he said. “I have an extra shirt and pants you can wear, when you’re able to put them on.”
“You’re twice my size,” she said. “I can repair my own clothes, if you have a needle and thread.”
“Later. Nothing matters now but that you’re safe.”
“Is it that important?” she asked, closing her eyes.
It seemed to Timon that she was asking herself as much as she was asking him. “You’re important, Jamie. I know you have a contribution to make to the Conclave, maybe something no one else can.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and Timon saw them spark with surprise. “How did you...” She clamped her lips together. “You couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t what, Jamie?”
She fell silent. The sun had grown warm, but suddenly Jamie was shivering. Timon fetched a blanket and tucked her under it.
“No more talk,” he said. “While you sleep, I’ll keep watch.”
“I’m sorry,” she sighed.
“No,” he said, taking her hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She began to shake her head, exhaled slowly and drifted into sleep.
Timon held her hand a little longer, amazed by its delicacy and softness. It wouldn’t be so soft at the end of their journey. Inevitably, she would lose whatever innocence she still had left. But her second capture, so soon after the first, had been a brutal way for her to experience the outside world.
He had lost his innocence much earlier, when he’d been kidnapped as a child by a power-hungry warlord. But even before that, growing up in a mixed human and Opir colony, he’d known how much danger lay beyond the seeming safety of the colony’s walls.
But he would regret the hard lessons Jamie had yet to learn. He knew he couldn’t afford to allow his personal feelings to get in the way, and yet he felt that if he could have kept Jamie in a bubble, protected from all unpleasantness, he would have done it.
He berated himself for his weakness. He couldn’t allow himself to get emotionally involved. He could still take her back to the Enclave.
And she would resist him every step of the way. Fear wouldn’t stop her from forging ahead, even though she had only one Rider to protect her.
A Rider who had ulterior motives. Even though he’d already come to hate the idea of manipulating her into giving up information he now had reason to expect she possessed.
This was the time to learn it. When she was vulnerable and dependent on him. When she had begun to trust him.
Rising quickly, Timon walked to the top of the hill. The grass in the valley rippled like water. It was very peaceful.
Timon’s heart was not at peace. He had the overwhelming conviction that it never would be again.
* * *
Jamie woke at dawn. Timon had built a small fire, sheltered from view by the hills. He crouched beside it, the planes of his face carved of shadow and firelight, his big hands dangling between his knees.
Instinctively, Jamie felt her thigh. The pill had done some good, but the wound throbbed constantly, and her wrist wasn’t much better. She felt weak and useless, worth no more than Timon’s pity.
She watched Timon as he rummaged through his saddlebags. He wore a homespun shirt and pants with leather insets tucked into his boots, and even from a distance she could tell that the odor of his “disguise” was gone. Each of his movements was efficient and smooth, well-developed muscle working harmoniously and with no extraneous mannerisms.
Had he moved the same way when he’d fought for her in the tribesmen’s camp, with such ease and grace? He’d overcome her captor, gotten her away, treated her injuries. She was completely dependent on him and his considerable skill.
Her face felt flushed, and she touched her cheeks. They were warm...with embarrassment, she thought. No matter how many times he told her she wasn’t at fault.
“You’re awake,” he said, turning as he spoke. He smiled, and the strong lines of his face relaxed. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes,” she said, though she wasn’t sure it was really true. Her stomach grumbled loudly enough for him to hear, and she winced. “Thanks to you.”
“You’ve already thanked me,” he said. He laid his hand on her forehead, frowned and touched her cheek. There was nothing detached about that second touch. It was almost a caress.
She started in spite of herself. “No sign of the raiders?” she said, her lip cracking open as she spoke the last word.
Timon got up and returned with a small piece of gauze. He dabbed at her lip. “Nothing,” he said. “They’d expect us to be long gone by now.”
“We should be,” she said, making an effort to rise. “We can’t stay here.”
His violet-gray eyes gazed into hers with a calm wisdom that made her feel self-conscious all over again. “We’ll only move when you’re up to it,” he said, “and that won’t be today.”
Rising again, Timon fetched a tin plate filled with a kind of gruel and a strip of dried meat. “I’m sorry this is all I have to offer,” he said. “But I was only able to bring my own packs with me, and I haven’t had the chance to hunt. Do you think you can eat?”
Jamie nodded, her gut rebelling at the sight of the gruel. She let Timon feed her, though she began to resent every spoonful that went into her mouth.
“I still have one hand,” she protested.
“I don’t want you moving around any more than you have to.”
“There are some things you can’t help me with.”
He grinned, showing his pointed cuspids. “I’ve lived most of my life on the move. Do you think something like that would bother me?”
“You only travel with men,” she said.
“But I’ve known plenty of women,” he said, an almost mischievous light glittering in his eyes. “Biology is biology. If you think you can manage it, I’ll help you get up.”
“You just said you didn’t want me to move!”
All at once he was serious again. “I would rather you didn’t.”
With a feeling of queasiness, she imagined him cleaning up after her. That was out of the question. “Help me get over to the tree,” she said. He half carried her to the tree and gave her a small measure of privacy, though she knew he was alert to the possibility of a fall. She was very careful not to fall.