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TWENTY-FOUR

The news traveled quickly. From Anoki, Ikona, Dirak, and Ris in the Emerald Valley, south through Arcadia to Kuumic, and east through Tarzak and Sina across the Sea of Baraboo to Mbwebwe, the people listened in horror, then blackballed Johnjay, son of Little Will, no longer of the Town of Miira.

No One stood in the sparse trees at the crest of the Snake Mountains looking far down at the dense, distant expanse of jungle called the Great Muck Swamp. Tarzaka, breathing in gasps and dragging her pack by its strap, stopped several paces behind him, and leaned against the rocky wall of a ledge. She dropped the pack, rested her head against the ledge, and gulped at the air. After a moment, she squinted at their surroundings, then pushed away from the ledge. "We are at the top." She closed her eyes, sank back against the rocky wall, and slid down it until she was seated.

No One turned and walked back toward her. "The Great Muck is huge. I never realized how huge."

Tarzaka placed a hand across her middle and drew up her knees. "Are we to stop here for the night?"

No One looked at the sky, then frowned at the fortune teller.

"We have four hours of daylight left. We can put considerable distance between us and this place before night." He looked toward the swamp. "The sooner we make the swamp, the sooner we can find what we both seek." Tarzaka issued a brief, involuntary moan. No One studied her, then sat down upon the ground. "Is your belly after you again, fortune teller?"

The left side of her mouth drew into a bitter smile. "I have kept up so far, No One."

He glanced at her, then wrapped his arms around his knees. "Is there something you want to say?"

"I do not enjoy having my blood vessels pinched, No One. Therefore, I mind my tongue."

He studied her. "Yet you stay with me." He looked at her harder, seeing her pain for the first time. "What is wrong?"

The fortune teller shook her head, laughed, then winced with pain. "You are alone in your shell. So alone." She laughed again. "I have been groaning behind you for days. For days." She nodded. "And now you notice."

"I did not ask you to come along."

She shook her head, winced, and drew up her knees even further. "It was part of my price." She turned her head and stared at him from beneath her hood. "And you have yet to live up to your part of the bargain."

"I told you that I cannot tell fortunes. I can only see that which is likely to happen." He held out his hands. "Even then there are conditions."

"No One, you can also read minds. And you can move things. I would know how to do these."

No One pushed himself to his feet. "I don't know how to teach these things! Besides, why does a fortune teller need to know how to move objects?"

Tarzaka closed her eyes. "You might need that power soon."

He turned his back on her and stared out over the mountaintops. "Don't speak nonsense. If you are rested, let us be off. If we leave now, we can make the edge of the swamp in two days."

"I cannot move, No One."

He glanced back at her, then shrugged and looked back toward the swamp. "Then I shall leave you behind." He glanced over his shoulder at the fortune teller. "Are you coming?"

"You won't leave me behind, No One. I am your only audience."

He turned slowly, glaring at her, his face contorted in anger.

"What do you mean?" No One walked quickly to the fortune teller's side and shouted down at her. "What do you mean?" He stared at her for a moment, looking for her meaning in images, then staggered back a step as waves of pain assaulted his mind. He squatted next to her. "What can I do?"

Tarzaka shook her head. "Nothing right now. I must rest." Her eyes fluttered open, then closed in pain. "But you must think, No One, about what you must do. If you can pinch a blood vessel, then you can at least move small things. After I have rested, I want you to reach inside me with your mind and find the thing that makes me ill."

"Tarzaka, what if there is nothing I can do?"

"Then there is nothing you can do. But remember, No One, we have a bargain; you must try. Help me down. I must sleep."

No One helped her to lie down and adjusted her pack beneath her head for a pillow. She was on her side, wrapped into a tight ball. He felt the skin of her cheek and found it hot and dry. No One placed his hands upon his own face and found it hot and wet. Wiping his hands on his robe, he stood and began preparing their camp.

As evening's shadows chilled the mountaintop, No One rose from the fire he had built and spread his bullhand's robe over Tarzaka's still form. He tucked the robe around her body, sat next to her, and glanced at his unopened jug of sapwine. Shaking his head, he looked at the woman's face. "What do expect of me, Tarzaka?" he whispered.

Her lips barely moved. "To try."

His breath caught. "I didn't mean to awaken you."

"You didn't." She winced, then let her face relax. "We should begin, No One."

He nervously wet his lips, then pushed the fingers of his right hand through his damp hair. "I still don't know what to do—how I should go about it."

"No One, you said that you can see what may happen; that your image of what is to be is the clearer the more you know."

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes. But about this, I know so little."

"Then you must learn more." She pushed herself up upon an elbow. "Help me to my back, No One, then begin."

"Begin? Begin what?"

"Begin to learn. Reach inside me with your mind and learn."

He rose to his knees and helped the fortune teller to her back. Once there, she began to stretch out her legs, then quickly drew them back as she issued a cry. "It... it hurts too much to lower my knees." She nodded. "Begin."

No One swallowed, wiped his face with his hands, then concentrated on Tarzaka's middle as he dried his hands upon his robe. Waves of pain washed over him, and he forced himself to blot it from his mind. Sensation by sensation, the sounds of the wind, the fire, the fortune teller's breathing, the beating of his own heart; he shut them out. The feeling of the rough soil beneath his knees, the wetness trickling down his back, the chill of the coming night; he shut them out. The taste of his own saliva, the smell of the burning wood, all thought of life, exile, and revenge; he shut them out, leaving only the fingers of his mind.

He moved those fingers forward until they reached Tarzaka's hot, rigid skin. "Deeper," he whispered. "Deeper." Heat. Wet heat. Slippery wet heat. The fortune teller moaned, and he quickly withdrew. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Again he wiped his face. "I cannot do this."

Tarzaka breathed deeply several times, then she nodded. "You must. Continue and use my cries for information. You must learn if you would see how to cure me. Go ahead."

No One dried his hands upon his robe, then again shut his mind to all but the fingers of his mind. The fingers again entered the fortune teller's body, and again she moaned. He moved the fingers gently to the left, gently up, gently down. Breathing heavily, he pressed the fingers deeper. Tarzaka moaned. "Do you feel them?"

"Yes. It is strange."

"Am I closer to the pain?"

"I cannot tell, No One. Everything hurts so."

No One wet his lips, nodded, then drew his fingers back slightly through the slippery wetness. He moved the fingers slightly to the right, and Tarzaka screamed. He started to withdraw but forced his fingers to remain in place. "Tarzaka. I see this much. This will hurt."

She snickered. "And you say you cannot tell fortunes."

"Quiet."

He moved the fingers first in one direction, then the next, trying to feel the outlines of the hardness beneath his touch. Tarzaka cried out loud several times. No One shook the cries from his mind and made his fingers travel around the object. They met resistance. He searched again, feeling the object sharply bending in upon itself. Mange, Butterfingers, and their students in Candyjane Miira's horse barn, the dead animal on its back on the barn floor, it's stiff legs straight up, held by ropes. The students were laughing at Surenuff, one of the students, as he ran outside to empty his stomach. The belly of the horse was open, and Johnjay watched as Mange helped Mortify pull out the great shining coils of intestines.