He didn't want anyone fiddling with him, he said. Except Pilar. And Katuro, if absolutely necessary. And Toby, because at least she was silent. Lucerne went away, weeping angrily, but there was nothing Toby could do about that.
Rumour was the daily news among the Gardeners. The older boys heard quickly about Zeb's battle -- it had now become a battle -- and the next afternoon Shackleton and Crozier came to see him. He was asleep -- Toby had slipped some Poppy into his Willow tea -- so they tiptoed around him, speaking in low voices and trying for a peek at his wound.
"He ate a bear once," said Shackleton. "When he was flying for Bearlift, that time they were trying to save the polar bears. His plane crashed and he walked out -- it took months!" The older boys had many such heroic tales about Zeb. "He said bears look just like a man when they're skinned."
"He ate the co-pilot. After he was dead, though," Crozier said.
"Can we see the maggots?"
"Has he got gangrene?"
"Gang! Grene!" shouted little Oates, who'd tagged along after his brothers.
"Shut up, Oatie!"
"Ow! You meat-breath!"
"Off you go now," said Toby. "Zeb -- Adam Seven needs his rest."
Adam One persisted in thinking that Shackleton and Crozier and young Oates would turn out just fine, but Toby had her doubts. Philo the Fog was supposed to be their stand-in father, but he wasn't always mentally available.
Pilar took the night watches: she didn't sleep much at night anyway, she said. Nuala volunteered for the mornings. Toby took over during the afternoons. She checked the maggots every hour. Zeb had no temperature, and there was no fresh blood.
Once he began healing he was restless, so Toby played dominoes with him, then cribbage, and finally chess. The chess set was Pilar's: black was ants, white was bees; she'd carved it herself. "They used to think the queen of the bees was a king," Pilar said. "Since if you killed that bee, the rest lost their purpose. That's why the chess king doesn't move around much on the board -- it's because the queen bee always stays inside the hive." Toby wasn't sure this was true: did the queen bee always stay inside the hive? Except for swarming, of course, and for nuptial flights ... She stared at the board, trying to see the pattern. From outside the Fallows Recovery Hut came the sound of Nuala's voice mingling with the chirping of the smaller children. "The five senses, through which the world comes to us ... seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling, tasting ... what do we use for tasting? That's right ... Oates, there is no need for you to lick Melissa. Now pop your tongues back into your tongue containers and close the lids." Toby had an image -- no, a taste. She could taste the skin of Zeb's arm, the salt on it ...
"Checkmate," said Zeb. "Ants win again." Zeb always played Ants, to give Toby an opening advantage.
"Oh," said Toby. "I didn't see that." Now she was wondering -- unworthy thought -- whether there was something going on between Nuala and Zeb. Though overblown, Nuala was lush, and oddly babyish. Some men found that quality alluring.
Zeb swept the pieces from the board and began to set them up again. "Do me a favour?" he said. He didn't wait for a yes.
Lucerne was having a lot of headaches, he said. His voice was neutral, but there was an edge to it, by which Toby understood that the headaches might not be real; or else that they were real enough, but Zeb found them boring anyway.
Could Toby stop by with some of her bottles the next time Lucerne had a migraine, he said, and see what she could manage? Because he himself sure as hell couldn't do anything for Lucerne's hormones, if that's what it was. "She's been giving me a lot of grief," he said. "For being away too much. Makes her jealous." He grinned like a shark. "Maybe she'll hear sense, from you."
So. The bloom is off the rose, thought Toby. And the rose doesn't like it.
22
Saint Allan Sparrow of Clean Air: not a Day that had so far lived up to its name. Toby picked her way through the crowded pleebland streets, carrying her bag of dried herbals and bottled medicinals hidden under her loose coverall. The afternoon thunderstorm had cleared the fumes and particulate somewhat, but she was wearing a black nose cone anyway, in honour of Saint Sparrow. As was the custom.
She felt safer on the street since Blanco had been put into Painball; still, she never strolled or loitered, but -- remembering Zeb's instructions -- also she didn't run. It was best to look purposeful, as if you were on a mission. She ignored the passing stares, the anti-Gardener slurs, but she was alert to sudden movement or to anyone coming too close. A pleebrat gang had once grabbed her mushrooms; luckily for them, she hadn't been carrying anything lethal that time.
She was heading towards the Cheese Factory building to fulfil Zeb's request. This was the third time she'd gone. If Lucerne's headaches were real and not just a bid for attention, an over-the-counter double-strength painkiller/soporific from HelthWyzer could have handled the probl
em, either by curing her or killing her. But Corps pills were taboo among the Gardeners, so she'd been using extract of Willow, followed by Valerian, with some Poppy mixed in; though not too much Poppy, as it could be addictive.
"What's in this?" Lucerne would say each time Toby had treated her. "It tastes better when Pilar makes it."
Toby would refrain from saying that Pilar had in fact made it, and would urge Lucerne to swallow the dose. Then she'd put a cold compress on her forehead and sit by her bedside, trying to tune out Lucerne's whining.
The Gardeners were expected to avoid any broadcasting of their personal problems: foisting your mental junk on others was frowned on. For drinking Life there are two cups, Nuala taught the small children. What's in each of them might be exactly the same, but my, oh my, the taste is so different!
The No Cup is bitter, the Yes Cup is yummy --
Now, which one would you rather have in your tummy?
This was a basic Gardener credo. But though Lucerne could mouth the slogans, she hadn't internalized the teachings: Toby could tell a sham when she saw one, being a sham herself. As soon as Toby was locked into the ministering position, everything that was festering inside Lucerne would come roiling out. Toby would nod and say nothing, hoping to convey the impression of sympathy, though in reality she'd be considering how many drops of Poppy it would take to knock Lucerne unconscious before she, Toby, gave in to her worst impulses and throttled her.