IV
XANA
“And I find more bitter than death
The woman whose heart is snares and nets”
The woman whose heart is snares and nets”
Clunk.
The sound of ceramic on lacquered wood brought Tristine out of her thoughtful daze. She glanced up at Leopoldo, then down at the cup he slid towards her. As she peeked over the rim, she frowned. “Water?” It was much a question as it was an accusation.
“You drink too much coffee, Tris,” the doctor answered. He turned and walked back towards the kitchen before she could muster a word of argument, so she just picked up the cup and gave it a begrudging sip.
Leopoldo Amadori’s house was much the same as she remembered it. The furniture was different, true, and there was a beautiful mural of a rolling vineyard across one of the walls of his sitting room that most definitely hadn’t been there last century. But everything still felt clean. Cared for. Used, and then respectfully thanked. Chairs were tucked in, rugs straightened, dishes stowed in neat little rows above clean countertops… Tris liked to consider herself a tidy person but compared to Leo she always felt like a slob.
As familiar as the house felt, it was also strange to be back. Leo had given her an open invitation to call on him here if she needed aid, or even just someone to talk to, but she hadn’t had occasion to test his “dragging in a half-shredded friend and then falling asleep on your kitchen table” policy until now.
Eight hours… she’d managed to sleep eight hours as a Sybal. It was almost absurd. She nearly had a fit of panic when she’d awoken, alone, on Leopoldo’s bed at three in the morning with only a vague memory of how she’d gotten there. Leo’s quick appearance at the doorway had brought her back to lucidity, and he left her a fresh dress borrowed from one of his neighbors. The dress wasn’t quite as long as she preferred to wear in the daylight, but it concealed her right leg well enough.
Coffee or no coffee, Tris did feel much better now that she was rested. Her mind felt clearer than it had for the past week and a half—not that it made the subject of her thoughts any more bearable. Any less terrifying.
A very unusual sound drifted from the little room Leo used as his home clinic. It could have been a yawn, or maybe a gurgle, or even a very groggy curse…
Tris snatched up her crutch and pulled herself out of the chair. The Reversion was already twenty minutes past—sunlight gleaming on the white windowsills—and she’d begun to wonder at Marron’s continued rest. Leopoldo had taken the worst of the Insatiable Puddle’s injuries onto himself using his Sybal’s gift, but Marron had slept the entire remainder of the night, submersed in a warm salt bath. Tristine was happy to let him sleep, but they still had important matters to discuss. She’d sent a missive to the Estate explaining the possibility of her tardiness, but she knew that the longer she tarried, the more suspicious Bastian and the rest of her staff would become.
Leopoldo reappeared at the kitchen doorway as Tris hobbled past. “Ahhh… you might want to give him a bit of time,” he said quickly.
“I won’t disturb him,” Tris promised, turning the corner into the room. “I just want to see if he needs—”
Help.
Marron was more or less where they’d left him, except that the metal laundry tub in which he had fallen asleep was much better suited to the puddle than the man. He floundered, half in and half out of the tub, all his limbs dangling over the rim, still in the grey pea coat he had been wearing when the Change descended and now, soaked through to his underpants. Tristine could practically smell the smoke as he tried to puzzle out the best way to extract himself from the situation.
Something like a snort or a cough slipped out before she could even clearly process what she was seeing. “Marron, wh— heavens.” She hurried into the room, but it didn’t take much assessment to realize that he was stuck quite fast.
“Leo!” she called. “I don’t think time is what he needs!”
Leopoldo appeared in the doorway. “Oh hell,” he said. “I hadn’t thought— here let’s just… Hold the tub so it doesn’t spill.”
Tristine hastily leaned her crutch against the table and knelt behind Marron’s head, holding one of the basin’s handles. The doctor took up a planted stance next to the tub on the floor and its overflowing American contents. He extended a hand and gestured for Marron to take it.
Marron grasped about for purchase like a beetle upended, fighting to get his weight underneath him, and thwarted at every turn by the curved lip of the tub. He gratefully took Leo's outstretched hand in wrinkled fingers, heaved—
He was heavier than he looked. Maybe Leo misjudged his own strength, or maybe Marron was just slipperier than either of them anticipated, but halfway to standing, he lost his grip and fell backwards again with a scream and an almighty crash!, swamping Leo's freshly mopped floors and splashing Tris across the face.
In the stunned silence that followed, Marron sat, gaped at Leo, then Tristine, then——totally lost it.
A snort, a snigger, a squawk. A high, helpless fit that shook his shoulders and filled the room with late-summer laughter. He couldn't gather himself a second time. Thrice he tried, but he was shaking too hard to lift himself up, and eventually abandoned the idea completely. Instead, he sat back and covered his scarlet face with both hands.
The sound of Tristine’s high-pitched yelp ricocheted around the room like a physical projectile. She sat stunned for a few seconds more as Marron’s coppery laugh started to spill over, but soon enough she too fell victim to the contagious outbreak of mirth. She barely kept from rolling over backwards into the growing pool of bathwater on the ground, and tears of crippling laughter mingled with the saltwater already trickling down her face.
Leopoldo looked at them both like they were quite insane …but even he couldn’t suppress a chuckle. No doctor worth his salt could deny his patients a heaping tablespoon of laughter to chase away the night’s troubles.
(This is a chapter preview. You can find the full chapter HERE)
