15
Orion barely reacted as the street doc ran the surgical stapler along the gash on his cheek. Of course, she'd stuck a patch on the side of his neck providing enough beta-endorphin that Orion probably wouldn't have flinched at much of anything. He'd resisted the offer of anesthetic at first, but Dr. Fait insisted. "Or else I can't be responsible if I happen to stitch your mouth closed," she said. Orion didn't argue with her any further.
The elderly woman apparently knew Orion quite well and greeted him by name when he and Kellan went to her makeshift office in the basement of a building in Puyallup so Orion could get patched up. The street doc saw Orion immediately, ahead of two other patients. Fortunately, they didn't complain.
Dr. Fait must have been in her sixties, but her gnarled hands were still deft, and her touch steady. She carefully closed up the cut on Orion's face, squinting at her work as she went.
"You're damn lucky," she said to Orion as she worked. "It's a clean cut and you got to me right away. If you manage to keep out of trouble for a little while, it shouldn't even leave much of a scar."
"Oh, it'll scar," Orion muttered. His mood had been grim since they left the Ancients' headquarters. He'd barely said two words to Kellan the whole time. Under the effects of the anesthetic, he was becoming a bit more talkative, though apparently no less depressed.
"Hold still," Dr. Fait demanded, grabbing Orion's chin and adjusting the angle of his head.
Kellan watched in silence as the doctor worked. Orion hadn't offered any explanation of what she had witnessed. She hadn't asked, but it was obvious it wasn't good. He'd challenged Green Lucifer and lost, and all based on what Kellan had told him. She felt responsible for his situation and wanted to do something to help, but all she could do was watch and wait.
In a few moments, Dr. Fait completed her work and looked it over with a satisfied "hmmm." She set the surgical stapler down on a nearby instrument tray and looked around.
"I'll get some spray bandage for that," she said. "Stay put, Tam, I'll be right back." Then she bustled out of the room and Orion laid his head back against the headrest of the chair with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes.
"Tam?" Kellan asked quietly, wondering if the elf ganger was drifting off to sleep.
"It's short for Tamlin," he said without opening his eyes. "A character from a poem my mother liked. He was a bard taken into faerie. She must have thought it was suitably elven."
"So your mother was an elf?"
"No," he muttered. "She was human. My father was an elf, though."
"Where are your parents now?"
"Dead. My father died in the Night of Rage, right before I was born.
"My mom raised me alone in Tarislar," Orion continued. "She was a doctor, like Christina," he nodded toward the door through which Dr. Fait had gone. "They worked together at the hospital. Some chipped-out punker in the ER shot her when I was thirteen. I've been on my own since then."
"I never knew my parents," Kellan said. "Only my aunt. My only memories are of living with her. She said my mother abandoned me after my father ran off and abandoned her, but I've never believed that. I think there is more to it than my aunt ever told me. She never really wanted me there, but she was all the family I had."
"The Ancients were my family," Orion said. "I joined up with a gang when I was fifteen, the Silent Ps. A gang is the best way to stay alive when you live in the Barrens. The Spikes wiped out our gang a few years later, when Lord Torgo took over. The Ancients kind of adopted the survivors. I was proud to be an Ancient."
"Tam: Can I call you that?"
The elf shrugged, which Kellan took as a yes.
"What happened back there?" she asked.
"The First Law," Tamlin said. "I questioned Green Lucifer's decision, challenged his judgment and his authority. That kind of thing has to be settled by a duel. I lost."
"So: now what?"
"Now nothing," the elf replied. "I lost. I'm not part of the Ancients anymore. I'm a goronagee -an outsider-not really even an elf anymore." He squeezed his eyes closed.
"I am so sorry," Kellan said. Orion slowly shook his head, his face relaxing as he sighed.
"Not your fault," he said. "I challenged, I lost. It's the way it is."
"Well, it fraggin' sucks."
Orion laughed weakly, then pushed himself up on his elbows, opening his eyes.
"Sielle," he said, looking at Kellan with his intense green eyes.
"What's that?"
"Yeah, it sucks," he replied with a chuckle. "Actually, it means, 'it is so' or 'it is the way of things.' It's hard to translate exactly."
"It's elvish, right?"
Orion nodded. "Yeah, Sperethiel."
"Do you speak it?"
"Not much," he replied, settling back against the padded chair. "Just a few words and phrases I've picked up. A lot of the Ancients like Lucifer speak it fluently, but they were mostly raised with it. My mom was a norm, and I didn't exactly go to school in the Land of Promise."
The Land of Promise. Orion meant Tir Tairngire, the elven homeland south of Seattle. It occupied most of what was once southern Washington state in the old United States, claimed in the negotiations after the Ghost Dance by a coalition of elves backed by other Awakened races and creatures. To Kellan, Tir Tairngire sounded like a mystical land of faerie, ruled by a Council of Princes and filled with magic and mystery. Kellan had wondered what it must be like to live in such a place, and why anyone would ever leave it. Still, there were young elves who came to Seattle from Tir Tairngire every year, apparently including some of the Ancients.
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" Kellan asked.
"Mostly self-taught," he said. "I've got some Talent, too. I'm an adept."
"Like a magician?"
The elf shook his head slowly. "No. My magic is all in here." He tapped the fingers of his right hand against his chest. "It makes me stronger and faster- but apparently not fast enough." His hand moved toward his face, but fell back to the chair before he touched the cut.
"Sorry," Dr. Fait said, returning to the room. "You're not the only one who got involved in some foolishness tonight."
She used the canister of spray bandage to carefully apply a protective layer to the sutured cut on Orion's face. The transparent bandage molded to his face, barely visible.
"You'll metabolize the staples," she said, checking over her handiwork. "Just keep it clean and try to stay away from any other sharp objects in the meantime."
"Thanks, Tina," Orion said, getting up slowly from the chair. The doctor's businesslike demeanor softened a bit.
"Anytime, Tam, you know that. Is there anything else you need or-?" Orion cut her off with a shake of his head.
"No, thanks, not right now."
"Okay, you know where to find me."
As they left the clinic, Kellan, hands deep in the pockets of her jacket, turned to Orion.
"So now what?" she asked.
"Now nothing," Orion replied. "We tried talking sense. It didn't work. That's it."
"But you can't just give up!" Kellan said.
"Look, Kellan," the elf stopped and turned toward her. "I know you wanted to do the right thing, but it just doesn't matter anymore. The Ancients aren't going to listen. Whatever Brickman has planned is going to happen. We need to look out for ourselves, because it's sure as hell nobody else is going to do it." He gave a brief snort of laughter. "Maybe I can find work as a shadowrunner."