“Just what we need.” Anya grabbed up a cloth and started dusting it over the bench, probably more for something to do than any real conviction to clean.

  “I can’t fight her,” Llew said in some effort to explain Karlani to Anya.

  “But you can kill her.” Jonas sat straighter, by all appearances his old self. “She’s fast and strong, but even then, the Aenuk grip is hard to beat. I used to be able to get out of it, but Aris never failed to remind me you were different. I could break your hold when someone else was on the receivin’ end, but at the speed you drain …” He shook his head.

  “She’s S— Syakaran?” Elka asked. “What is she doing here?”

  “Going by her clothing, I’d guess she’s escaped from the Turhmos prisons,” Llew said. “They must’ve caught her when she was injured.”

  Jonas nodded. “They’re built to hold Aenuks, not Syakara.”

  “Aenuks who don’t know any better,” Llew murmured, then moved around the table to sit beside Jonas. “Do you feel safe with her here? She could kill us all before we knew what was happening.”

  Jonas shook his head and smirked. “She’s not that good.” He placed a hand over Llew’s fingers on the table. “I believe you can survive her. That’s all that matters.”

  “Stop saying things like that. You have a son out there. I’m not letting you abandon him.”

  Jonas pressed his lips together in some sort of wry gratitude and squeezed her fingers gently.

  A deep baying, somewhat ghostly and wholly distressed, sent a chill through Llew. Everyone in the room froze.

  “What is that?” Anya whispered.

  The sound came again.

  “The cows,” Jonas murmured and Llew relaxed. Of course.

  Ard’s house cows provided the milk for the homestead. How long had it been since they’d been milked? She’d known mothers in Cheer who’d suffered when their babes weaned, or simply didn’t feed well. And Ard had said something along those lines when he’d had Llew help him milk them the last time they’d been here at the farm.

  “Maybe I can help them,” Llew said.

  “I can help,” said Elka.

  Llew stood, but lingered. If she returned to Anya and Jonas slaughtered …

  “She’s lost, Llew,” Jonas said. “We don’t have to like her, but I think we can trust her not to kill us today.”

  He was right. Llew bent to kiss him then gestured for Elka to join her outside. As they did so, Rowan, Alvaro, and Karlani were returning to the house laden with sacks and carry boxes, Alvaro listening intently to whatever Karlani had to say. Llew nodded to Rowan in thanks for his leadership and carried on to the house cows’ paddock.

  The cows leaned into the fence nearest the shed where Ard had fed and milked them. One simply pushed against the fence, as if she thought she could walk through it. The other pawed the ground and walked agitatedly around its friend. Having little idea what she needed to or could do for the cows, Llew strode over to them. If all she could do was ease their pain, she would start there.

  Their udders were prominent and reddened. On seeing Llew, ears laid back, eyes rolled, and feet stamped.

  “Shh.” Llew slowed her approach with a hand raised. The nearest cow took a step back into the other cow, who bayed her annoyance and gave no quarter. Llew managed to brush fingertips over the nose of the closest cow. The head swung away, ceasing the tingling in Llew’s fingers. But then the wide nose came back for a tentative sniff. At this second contact, the nose pressed into Llew’s palm. And she burned.

  The initial intense pain was short-lived, but a subtle simmering continued through that touch. The cow heaved a sigh, blowing damp warmth into Llew’s palm.

  Llew crouched in a patch of grass still green on her side of the fence and sunk her fingers amongst it, then stood and swung herself over the railings, landing softly beside the cow she’d helped, who didn’t flinch. The other cow lunged away but was reluctant to leave her herd-mate. Llew’s own lack of fear standing so near these agitated masses of muscle surprised her, but her need to soothe them was stronger than her need to avoid pain or injury. She reached out with her other hand, sinking fingertips beneath neck hair. The cow froze, wide-eyed as Llew absorbed her inflammation.

  “Mastitis.” Elka came to lean on the top rail of the fence.

  “What causes it?” Llew turned her attention to Elka while she maintained contact with both cows, aware of a continuing draining of her ghi into them. Whatever she had healed wasn’t the source of their troubles, and Braph’s word “micro-organism” echoed in the back of her mind. “I mean, they won’t have been milked since …” Ard. Llew blinked against her tears that threatened every time she thought of either of the farmers and she fought the urge to look up at the hanging bodies. Now, there was a job for a Syakaran.

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  “Bacteria,” Elka said. Llew nodded, tight lipped, not surprised. “Infection.”

  “What do you usually do to fight that?”

  “Ex— sternal we can treat by cleaning, and maybe applying ointment, or oils.”

  They looked at each other a few moments. What Jonas had wasn’t external. It was deep in whatever made him Syakaran.

  “The farmer probably had some treatments,” Elka said. “Let’s look in the shed.”

  There were no answers for Llew here, only hurting cows. She swung a leg up and hauled herself over the fence, took a couple of steps and crouched to sink her fingers into the grass on the cartway verge, watching closely as the ring of death spread towards the fence, and beneath. She broke contact before it reached the cows’ feet and led the way to the shed where Ard cleaned and stored the milking buckets. She would have to be careful not to bump into Elka as they worked in proximity.

  “Do you think we’ll need to milk them?” Llew remembered all too well the ache in her hands after performing that task the last time she’d been here.

  “I think it’s better to let them dry off while we’re here to treat the infection.” Elka scanned the row of bottles, lifting one down to examine its label. “They’re probably due a rest, anyway.”

  “Where did you learn about cows?”

  “Ma’s treated plenty of ladies weaning babes over the years.” Elka put the bottle back on the shelf and pulled down another. “And Northhollow has a large dairy farm that supplies the town’s milk, cream, butter, and cheese. We’ve helped them a few times.” She turned to Llew, proffering a bottle. “We’ll s— start with this. Your healing of the inflammation will have helped. This can s— sooth in the meantime, and prevent s— secondary infection.”

  Llew dashed along the cartway to press her fingers to an Ajnai before running back to open the gate to the paddock for Elka, and the grateful cows stood patiently as Llew and Elka massaged the pungent oil into their udders. Llew could still sense the transfer of ghi from herself to the cow she administered to.

  Elka stood from attending her cow, tottered, and landed on her arse. The now-relaxed cows barely reacted, just mulled around testing the grass by the fence for palatability as Llew rushed to Elka’s aid. As Llew pulled Elka to her feet, Elka sucked in a sharp breath. Llew cursed, shifted her hands to support Elka where clothes protected her from Llew’s touch until Elka was balanced. Llew stooped to collect the dropped bottle, and brushed her fingers through some remaining green grass, leaving a small circle dry.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Elka shook off Llew’s apology as she brushed dust off her dress.

  “We’ll do it again tomorrow morning and night.” She favored Llew with a small smile and turned for the gate. “If you can ease their pain, we can fight the cause with that.” She gestured to the bottle. “It will take a little time, is all.”

  Llew held the gate open for Elka. “It’s different, isn’t it?” she asked. “What’s infecting these cows, that we can fight with ointment, isn’t the same as what’s weakening Jonas.” She latched the gate behind them and they dawdled to the shed.

  Elka nodded. “It didn’t respond to anything Ma gave him after s— surgery.” Elka turned a considering look on Llew. “How often have you been s— sick? Cough, fever, runny nose?”

  “Never.” She’d never paused to wonder about that before, either.

  Elka smiled. “Anything that hurts you ends up dead before you even notice.”

  Well, not anything that hurt Llew. And certainly not anyone.

  “What if I can’t fix him?”

  “Then you’ll inject him with blood for the rest of his life.” Elka replaced the oil on its shelf.

  That was annoyingly practical, and not the miracle answer Llew was digging for. “Which could be how long, or short?”

  Elka shrugged again, pairing it with a sorrowful grimace. “I loved him in the books, you know? But he never got s— sick in them, barely even injured. He just rode into town and dis— spatched the bad guys and rode out again. He’s different than everyone else. Better. S— seems he can be broken and healed like most people. But a bug that can break what makes him him? I’ve never even imagined …”

  The question had been rhetorical anyway. Or desperate. Or both. Of course Elka had never seen such an illness before. No one had, except Braph, and even he hadn’t seen it progress this far.

  “If you can think of anything that might help fight Jonas’s infection … I can reverse the symptoms, but it’s too dangerous to fight the bug itself. Braph said I would have to drain the bug itself, and I don’t know how to do that without draining Jonas, and I’m not sure Jonas can use my blood to fight it himself. If you can think of anything, anything at all.”

  “I’ll try,” Elka said.

  Llew paused to watch the cows a few moments, while Elka carried on to the homestead ahead. One dropped to her knees, then eased her bulk down to rest, while the other kept nibbling the short grass. They would need to be moved to more grass. Ard had pigs that would need checked on, too. And chickens. How many eggs awaited discovery? The farm needed them as much as they needed its sanctuary, while it lasted.