Dreamsnake

“I hate amputations,” Snake said quite sincerely. “You’d hardly believe the lengths I’ve gone to avoid doing them.”

At the entrance to the residence Gabriel called, and the heavy doors swung open. He greeted the servant and had him take Squirrel and Swift to the stables below.

Snake and Gabriel entered the foyer, an echoing chamber of smooth-polished black stone that reflected movement and blurry images. Because there were no windows it was rather dark, but another servant hurried in and turned up the gaslights. Gabriel set Snake’s bedroll on the floor, threw back his hood, and let his cloak slide off his shoulders. The polished walls mirrored his face erratically.

“We can leave your luggage here, someone will take it up.”

Snake laughed to herself at having her bedroll called “luggage,” as if she were a rich merchant about to set off on a buying trip.

Gabriel turned toward her. Seeing his face for the first time, Snake caught her breath. The inhabitants of Mountainside were very conscious of their beauty; this young man went out cloaked so heavily that Snake had wondered if he were plain, or even scarred or deformed. She was prepared for that. But in fact Gabriel was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. He was compactly built and well proportioned. His face was rather square, but not all planes and angles like Arevin’s; it reflected more vulnerability, feelings closer to the surface. He neared her and she could see that his eyes were an unusually bright blue. His skin was tanned the same shade as his dark-blond hair. Snake could not say why he was so beautiful, whether it was the symmetry of his features, and their balance, and his flawless skin, or qualities less definable, or all those and more; but he was, quite simply, breathtaking.

Gabriel looked at Snake expectantly, and she realized he thought she would leave the leather case behind, too. He did not seem to notice his effect on her.

“My serpents are in here,” she said. “I keep them with me.”

“Oh — I’m sorry.” He began to blush. The redness crept up his throat to his cheeks. “I should have known—”

“Never mind, it’s not important. I think I’d better see your father as soon as possible.”

“Of course.”

They climbed a wide, curving staircase of stone blocks rounded at the corners by time and wear.

Snake had never met an extremely beautiful person who was as sensitive to criticism as Gabriel, especially unintended criticism. Compellingly attractive people often exuded an aura of self-confidence and assurance, sometimes to the point of arrogance. Gabriel, on the other hand, seemed exceedingly vulnerable. Snake wondered what had happened to make him so.

The thick-walled stone buildings of mountain towns kept their rooms at a nearly constant temperature. After so long in the desert Snake was glad of the coolness. She knew she was sweaty and dusty from the day’s ride, but she did not feel tired now. The leather satchel made a satisfying weight in her hand. She would welcome a simple case of infection. Unless it was so bad she could do nothing but amputate, there would be small chance of complication, almost no chance of death. She was glad she would probably not have to face losing another patient so soon.

She followed Gabriel up a flight of spiral stairs. Gabriel did not even slow at the top, but Snake paused to glance around the enormous overpowering room. Its tall, smoke-colored window, the curved pane at the top of the tower, gave a spectacular view of the entire twilit valley. The scene dominated the whole room, and someone had realized that, for there was no furniture to detract from it except big wide pillows in neutral colors. The floor had two levels, an upper semicircle set against the back wall, to which the stairs led, and a lower, wider ring bordering the window.

Snake heard angry yelling, and a moment later an old man ran from the next room, bumping into Gabriel and knocking him off balance. The younger man, recovering, grabbed the older’s elbows to steady him just as the old man clutched at him for the same reason. They looked at each other gravely, oblivious to the humor of the situation.

“How is he?” Gabriel asked.

“Worse,” the old man said. He glanced beyond to Snake. “Is she — ?”

“Yes, I’ve brought the healer.” He turned to introduce her to the old man. “Brian is my father’s assistant. No one else can get near him.”

“Not even me, now,” Brian said. He pushed his thick white hair from his forehead. “He won’t let me see his leg. It hurts him so much he’s put a pillow under the blankets to hold them off his foot. Your father’s a stubborn man, sir.”

“No one knows better than me.”

“Stop the noise out there!” Gabriel’s father shouted. “Haven’t you any respect? Get out of my rooms.”

Gabriel straightened his shoulders and looked at Brian. “We’d better go in.”

“Not me, sir,” Brian said. “Me he ordered out. He said not to come back until he calls, if he calls.” The old man looked downcast.

“Never mind. He doesn’t mean it. He wouldn’t hurt you.”

“You believe that, sir, do you? That he doesn’t mean to hurt?”

“He doesn’t mean to hurt you. You’re indispensable. I’m not.”

“Gabriel—”the old man said, breaking his pose of servility.

“Don’t go far,” Gabriel said lightly. “I expect he’ll want you soon.” He entered his father’s bedroom.

Snake followed him inside, her eyes slowly accustoming themselves to the darkness, for curtains hid this large room’s windows and the lamps were not lit.

“Hello, father,” Gabriel said.

“Get out. I told you not to bother me.”

“I’ve brought a healer.”

Like everyone else in Mountainside, Gabriel’s father was handsome. Snake could see that, even beyond the lines of anxiety crossing his strong face. He had a pale complexion, black eyes, and black hair tousled by his stay in bed. In health he would be an imposing person, someone who would expect to control any group he joined. He was handsome in a completely different way from Gabriel, one that Snake could recognize but feel no attraction for.

“I don’t need a healer,” he said. “Go away. I want Brian.”

“You frightened him and you hurt him, father.”

“Call him.”

“He’d come if I did. But he can’t help you. The healer can. Please—” Gabriel’s voice crept toward desperation.

“Gabriel, please light the lamps,” Snake said. She stepped forward and stood beside the mayor’s bed.

As Gabriel obeyed, his father turned away from the light. His eyelids were puffy and his eyes bloodshot. He moved only his head.

“It will get worse,” Snake said gently. “Until you won’t dare move at all. Finally you won’t be able to, because the poison from your wound will weaken you too much. Then you’ll die.”

“You’re a fine one to talk about poisons!”

“My name is Snake. I’m a healer. I don’t deal in poisons.”

He did not react to her name’s significance, but Gabriel did, turning to look at her with renewed respect and even awe.

“Snakes!” the mayor snarled.

Snake was not inclined to waste her energy in argument or persuasion. She went to the foot of the bed and pulled loose the blankets so she could look at the mayor’s wounded leg. He started to sit up, protesting, but abruptly lay back, breathing heavily, his face pallid and shiny with sweat.

Gabriel came toward Snake.

“You’d better stay up there with him,” she said. She could smell the cloying odor of infection.

The leg was an ugly sight. Gangrene had set in. The flesh was swollen, and angry red streaks reached all the way up the mayor’s thigh. In a few more days the tissue would die and turn black, and then there would be nothing left to do but amputate.

The smell had grown strong and nauseating. Gabriel looked paler than his father.

“You don’t have to stay,” Snake said.

“I—” He swallowed and began again. “I’m all right.”

Snake replaced the blankets, taking care not to put any pressure on the swollen foot. Curing the mayor would not be the problem. What she would have to deal with was his defensive belligerence.

“Can you help him?” Gabriel asked.

“I can speak for myself!” the mayor said.

Gabriel looked down with an unreadable expression, which his father ignored, but which to Snake seemed resigned and sorrowful and completely lacking in anger. Gabriel turned away and busied himself with the gas lamps.

Snake sat on the edge of the bed and felt the mayor’s forehead. As she had expected, he had a high fever.

He turned away. “Don’t look at me.”

“You can ignore me,” Snake said. “You can even order me to leave. But you can’t ignore the infection, and it won’t stop because you tell it to.”

“You will not cut off my leg,” the mayor said, speaking each word separately, expressionlessly.

“I don’t intend to. It isn’t necessary.”

“I just need Brian to wash it.”

“He can’t wash away gangrene!” Snake was growing angry at the mayor’s childishness. If he had been irrational with fever she would have offered him infinite patience; if he were going to die she would understand his unwillingness to admit what was wrong. He was neither. He seemed to be so used to having his own way that he could not deal with bad fortune.

“Father, listen to her, please.”

“Don’t pretend to care about me,” Gabriel’s father said. “You’d be quite happy if I died.”

Ivory-white, Gabriel stood motionless for a few seconds, then slowly turned and walked from the room.

Snake stood up. “That was a dreadful thing to say. How could you? Anyone can see he wants you to live. He loves you.”

“I want neither his love nor your medicines. Neither can help me.”

Her fists clenched, Snake followed Gabriel.

The young man was sitting in the tower room, facing the window, leaning against the step formed by upper and lower levels. Snake sat beside him.

“He doesn’t mean the things he says.” Gabriel’s voice was strained and humiliated. “He really—” He leaned forward with his face in his hands, sobbing. Snake put