18
The Pleasures of Home
Kory had thought he would never again feel as terrible as he had the day he had gone off to the bulldozed Fairesite to die. He learned differently in the next few moments.
No sooner did they reach the parking lot unmolested, than reaction set in.
Physically, while he was not wounded, he was as exhausted as it was possible to be and still remain on his feet. He had a headache from a blow one of the soldiers had dealt him on the head, combined with the unaccustomed exercise of feeding Eric with mage-energy. No, not a headache; the word was not adequate for what he was enduring. There was someone standing on top of his head with spiked shoes, while driving stakes into both eye sockets, as a third person pulled every muscle in his neck and shoulders tight and tied knots in them.
Emotionally, he was a wreck. There were the minor worries, of course, about what would happen to Susan, to Kayla. And he fretted about Eric, who looked as bad as Kory felt. He was sick with fear for Beth, who had not emerged from her silence in all the long walk to the parking lot.
And there was the old fear, driven home yet again by this series of brushes with death. Humans. They are so fragile, so easily hurt. And they die so soon. I love them, and in a few short years they will leave me forever . . .
Elizabet took one look at them all, and ordered them into her car, turning to face the waiting elvensteeds with the kind of look Kory associated with training dogs.
“You two,” she said sternly. “Go home. Go directly home. Invisibly. No excursions. No frightening the police. Got that?”
The bikes flickered their lights, and Kory got the impression of great disappointment. “Wait a moment,” he said, and they canted their wheels in his direction with a sense of anticipation.
“The humans are still in circle up on Mount Tam,” he pointed out. “Perhaps they could take Melisande and Arvin there to thank them, and let them know what has occurred? The countryside is a bit rough for conventional vehicles.”
Elizabet nodded. “That’s reasonable,” she said. “And a good idea. The others should recognize Sandy, at least. Once she kills the ears and eyes. All right, go on, then.”
Recognizing that the older healer had taken charge of the war party, Lord Dharinel nodded to the two, who leapt onto the bikes and roared off into the darkness.
“With your permission, Lady Elizabet,” he said, bowing, his voice only a little ironic, “the rest of my people and I will go home Underhill or to our Groves. We have rest and healing to accomplish.”
So they did; while Kory was unwounded, that was not true of many of the others. None of the wounds were life-threatening, but many were serious, and while they had lost no one, the unspoken message was that it had been a very near thing.
Elizabet nodded, the irony in her gesture carefully gauged to exactly match that in Lord Dharinel’s voice. “If we could help you, we would,” she said. “As it is—”
“As it is you are fully as weary as we, having paid your portion in full, unstinted measure,” Dharinel replied. “We have somehow averted many tragedies this night, coming forth relatively unscathed. I come to the conclusion that there is value in working with mortals.”
Elizabet’s smile widened a little, making her look like a cat with a bowl of cream and a bowl of tuna in front of her—and a canary feather at one corner of her mouth. But, “Thank you, my lord,” was all she wisely said.
Dharinel, just as wise, bowed again, and led his forces out into the darkness, over the grass hills, away from the roads. Elizabet turned her attention back to her captives.
“You three in the back,” she ordered. “Kayla, you in the front. Passenger side.”
For once Kayla didn’t object. She simply got in and leaned back against the seat with a sigh that spoke more of exhaustion than disappointment at being unable to drive.
Kory helped Eric in at one door, then got Beth installed in the middle of the bench seat. This was a newer car; mostly not of metal, and the bits of Cold Iron in the framework and engine were not enough to cause him discomfort.
He waited for one of the other four to say something after Elizabet took her place in the driver’s seat, but no one did. There was a bit of a stir back at the building they’d just left, but it never got as far as the parking lot. Finally, after they got past the gate guard without incident, he leaned back and closed his eyes, with no further distractions to keep him from his troubles.
Beth stared at the patch of road between Elizabet’s and Kayla’s shoulders, and flexed mental muscles to see if they still hurt.
They did.
She hadn’t gone into screaming hysterics when the quake hit; that in itself was something of a miracle. She wasn’t certain that she believed it even now. She still walked that tightrope between sanity and the abyss; it wouldn’t take much to shove her over. Not much at all, actually.
A room with no ventilation, a little commuter plane. An elevator.
A closet.
She’d never been weak. Eric and Kory always counted on her to be the strong one. How could she still face them like this, knowing that if they needed her, she might be falling apart?
In a state of numbed pain, she climbed the stairs to the house, then up to their room. She didn’t even remember getting out of the car. She flung herself down on the waterbed and stared up at the high ceiling. After a while Kory and Eric came and sat on the rails beside her.
So, she wasn’t so strong anymore, and now they knew it. What if they decided to arrange things so that they wouldn’t need to count on her?
That’s what really hurts, doesn’t it, Kentraine? The idea that they might be able to live just fine without you?
One short step to the abyss. How could she live like that for the rest of her life? How could she live her life within the limits of a phobia?
She wanted to cry, but the tears were all gone.
I can’t live like this, she thought. I can’t—
Then don’t, said the little voice in her head that always prodded her when she started thinking something really stupid. Like now. Don’t live like that. You aren’t the only one in the world with claustrophobia, you know. Other people have gotten help.
Yes, but—she wailed silently, her eyes closed against the two faces bent over hers in concern and fear. But—
But you’re afraid to admit that you have weaknesses, Kentraine, the little voice continued without remorse. Why don’t you ask those two to help you and see what happens?
But what if they don’t want to?
But what if they do? the voice answered, then fell silent.
She opened her eyes. They were still there, faces still twisted with fear, eyes bright—
“You know,” she said, conversationally, a catch in her voice telling her that if she wasn’t careful, she’d break down and weep after all, “you two look really funny when you’re about to cry. Your faces get all red and your eyes get narrow and squinched up—”
She reached out while they were still trying to think of an answer to that and snagged their supporting arms, tumbling them into bed on either side of her.
“I’ve—got a problem,” she said, pulling the words out of pain. “That claustrophobia thing. It’s kind of a big problem, and I don’t know how long it’s gonna take to get over it. If I can.”
“Then we work around it,” Eric said promptly. “We’ll see what we can do to make it better, and meanwhile we’ll work around it. So if we can’t take the BART some days, so what? We’ll bike it, or walk. Stairs instead of elevators. Outdoor gigs. We’ll manage.”
“You say that now—” she began. Kory interrupted her.
“We say that for always,” he replied firmly. “You do not abandon a part of you because it is sick. You help it to heal, as best it can. And if you limp, where’s the harm? What,” he concluded, mockingly, “did you think that all tales ended in wedding the perfect princess? What a bore if they did—”
“And what a bore to be perfect!” Eric finished.
She looked from one to the other, and finally, with a flood of relief, believed them.
“I love you two,” she said, hugging them as tightly as she could. “Kiss me, you fools.”