The Name of the Wind

“I have trouble breathing,” she said. “My chest gets tight sometimes and it’s like breathing through pudding.” She laughed. “Did I say pudding? I meant molasses. Like a sweet molasses pudding.”

I fought off the urge to point out angrily that I’d asked her to tell me if she felt anything wrong with her breathing. “Is it hard to breathe now?”

She shrugged indifferently.

“I need to listen to your breathing,” I said. “But I don’t have any tools here, so if you could unbutton your shirt a little, I’ll need to press my ear against your chest.”

Denna rolled her eyes and unbuttoned more of her shirt than was altogether necessary. “Now that one is entirely new,” she said archly, sounding for a moment like her normal self. “I’ve never had anyone try that before.”

I turned and pressed my ear up against her breastbone.

“What does my heart sound like?” she asked.

“It’s slow but strong,” I said. “It’s a good heart.”

“Is it saying anything?”

“Nothing I can hear,” I said.

“Listen harder.”

“Take a few deep breaths and don’t talk,” I said. “I need to listen to your breathing.”

I listened. The air rushed in and I felt one of her breasts pressing against my arm. She exhaled and I felt her breath, warm against the back of my neck. Gooseflesh broke out over my whole body.

I could picture Arwyl’s disapproving stare. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on what I was doing. In and out, it was like listening to the wind through the trees. In and out, I could hear a faint crackling, like paper crumpling, like a faint sigh. But there was no wetness, no bubbling.

“Your hair smells really nice,” she said.

I sat up. “You’re fine,” I said. “Make sure to let me know if it gets any worse or feels different.”

She nodded amiably, smiling dreamily.

Irritated that the draccus seemed to be taking its sweet time making an appearance, I heaped more wood on the fire. I looked out at the northern bluffs, but there was nothing to see in the dim light but the outlines of trees and rocks.

Denna laughed suddenly. “Did I call your face a sugar bowl or something?” she asked, peering at me. “Am I even making any sense right now?”

“It’s just a little delirium,” I reassured her. “You’ll fade in and out of it before you go to sleep.”

“I hope it’s as much fun for you as it is for me,” she said pulling the blanket closer around herself. “It’s like a cottony dream, but not as warm.”

I climbed the ladder to the top of the greystone where we had stashed our possessions. I took a handful of the denner resin out of the oilskin sack, carried it down, and threw it on the edge of the fire. It burned sullenly, giving off an acrid smoke that the wind brushed away to the north and west, toward the unseen bluffs. Hopefully the draccus would smell it and come running.

“I had pneumonia when I was just a tiny baby,” Denna said with no particular inflection. “That’s why my lungs aren’t good. It’s horrible not being able to breathe sometimes.”

Denna’s eyes were half closed as she continued, almost as if she were talking to herself. “I stopped breathing for two minutes and died. Sometimes I wonder if this all isn’t some sort of mistake, if I should be dead. But if it isn’t a mistake I have to be here for a reason. But if there is a reason, I don’t know what that reason is.”

There was the distinct possibility that she didn’t even realize that she was talking, and an even greater possibility that most of the important parts of her brain were already asleep and she wouldn’t remember any of what was happening now in the morning. Since I didn’t know how to respond, I simply nodded.

“That’s the first thing you said to me. I was just wondering why you’re here. My seven words. I’ve been wondering the same thing for so long.”

The sun, already hidden by the clouds, finally set behind the western mountains. As the landscape faded into darkness, the top of this small hill felt like an island in a great ocean of night.

Denna was beginning to nod where she sat, her head slowly sinking to her chest, then bobbing back up. I walked over and held out my hand. “Come on, the draccus will be here soon. We should get up onto the stones.”

She nodded and came to her feet, blankets still wrapped around her. I followed her to the ladder and she made her slow, stumbling way up to the top of the greystone.

It was chilly up on the stone, away from the fire. The wind brushed past, making the slight chill worse. I spread one blanket across the stone and she sat down, huddled in the other blanket. The cold seemed to rouse her a little and she looked around peevishly, shivering. “Damn chicken. Come eat your dinner. I’m cold.”

“I was hoping to have you tucked into a warm bed in Trebon by now,” I admitted. “So much for my brilliant plan.”