It was still dark when Amos and Ink returned from the Infinite Lake. Amos exited gracefully, making use of the flipping gravity to break through the water and catch himself on his feet. In contrast, Ink was flailing and sputtering. He seemed to be drowning in the waist-deep water of the river.
Amos gripped him and pulled him up unceremoniously. Ink coughed, a dry retching. He spat a stream of freshwater back into its source, then coughed once more. Amos watched him with an amused look.
"Do we still have to cross the river?" Ink asked.
"No," Amos said, "The water should have washed the scent away. The wolves won't be able to track us so easily now."
"I'm not good at swimming," Ink's face spelled relief.
"I know, buddy," Amos laughed, "Let's go find Kien now. We need to make sure he's safe."
And so they set out, wading from the riverbank to the forest. The blaze had since died down somewhat. In truth, the forest was not terribly large. Still, though, it did burn like a beacon for the boys.
They began their search there, returning to where Kien had told them to flee. The lush, green forest was transformed into an ashpit. Black scorch marks ran up every trunk, burning leaves and grey ash floated through the air.
Amos noticed two blackened corpses - lumps of char more than anything else. He spat on them as he walked past, promising to come back and do worse if Kien didn't make it out. Ink looked down at them with sorrow. He took a moment longer than Amos, forced to jog to catch up.
"Amos," Ink ventured, hanging back while he asked, "Are you really my friend?"
Amos turned to meet his eyes. There was something innocent and fragile in them. Hope? Amos sighed.
"Ink," he began, "I can count the number of people I know in this world on one hand. Three out of five are family, one's Yakob's friend, and the other is you."
"Yes, but-"
"You," Amos held up a hand, "are my only friend. And that makes you my best friend."
"I got your dad hurt."
"Yeah, well," Amos shrugged, "You saved my life. You can make up for getting us in this position by helping me find Kien. Dad, I mean."
"Then we can be friends?"
"We're already friends, Ink. Best friends, remember?"
"Best friends..."
Amos clapped him on the shoulder. His palm met the most prominent spiral tattoo - circles within circles. A static shock ran through the boys' skin where they touched.
Pale skin. Concentric rings.
"Come on," Amos said, "Time's a-wasting."
...
They scoured the rest of the forest; Empty.
They inspected the fig tree clearing; Nothing but old blood.
They searched the fields; Naught but the budding wheat, furrows like scars on the earth.
The sun began to rise with the same inevitability as Amos' anxiety. Kien was nowhere to be found. Ink traipsed along happily wherever they searched, but as morning approached, Amos' feet began to drag. He realised the last place to check was the farmhouse...
But if he's not there, then...
There was no way to procrastinate any further. Amos trudged back home, dread weighing down his each and every step. He tried convincing himself that it would be okay, that Kien was fine, but he had seen his wounds.
Amos stood in front of the door. His posture was stiff, gaze cast firmly at his feet. Ink stood behind him, fidgeting. There was silence. The wood grain belied any life beyond it. Amos couldn't bring himself to open the door. As long as it remained closed, Kien was both alive and dead - Schrodinger's father.
The rooster - Ra? - crowed to signal first light.
Ink reached out with a tentative hand and knocked. Three quick raps.
Leila opened it and, upon perceiving Amos, took him into a massive bear hug. Amos let her squeeze him. He felt the cloth on his shoulder moisten, then Leila pulled back to hold him at arm's length. She studied his face through bleary, grey eyes, then pulled him back into the hug.
"Thank the Emperor," Leila said as she smoothed down his wild blond hair, kissing the top of his head over and over, "The Divine Will preserves us."
Amos just grunted in response. He was exhausted from the events of the night, and he couldn't see Kien. Leila blocked any sightlines through the entrance.
"And here's the screamer," Leila continued, disentangling herself, "Kien told me all about you, mister Ink."
Kien spoke to her after he left?
Amos pushed past Leila, leaving her with Ink.
Strips of torn cloth saturated with blood lay tossed about the house. Some were soaking in a bucket of water, others strewn haphazardly across the room. There was a red handprint on the wall that Amos hadn't noticed before.
Then, finally, Amos' gaze fell on Kien. He was stretched out on top of the table like a cadaver. He wasn't dead, but he wasn't far from it either. His chest rose gently with the deep breaths of dreamless sleep. His skin was pale, papery. Blue veins spidered across its surface, more prominent than they ever were. Kien's fingers twitched.
Amos crumpled. Relief flooded his mind and body, weakening his knees. The weight of the responsibility he assumed - that of his father's misfortune - dissipated. It didn't leave entirely. It wouldn't until Kien was restored to health, but at least Amos knew he hadn't killed the person who treated him as a son, who loved him like one and protected him. All without knowing who he really was.
One loses their faculties at the apex of exhaustion. Resultingly, Amos began to cry. Sobs racked his entire body. It was ugly, silent, sorrow for what could have been. He didn't understand what he was saying when he whispered, "Thank the Emperor."
This is all my fault.I need to be more careful with Amos' life.
This won't happen again.
I will protect them.
But I need power. Real power.
The eclipse...
"Come on, goose," Leila said, ruffling Amos' hair, "Your dad's a tough cookie. He'll be okay."
Amos sniffed. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and thumbed away the tears. He saw Ink standing by the doorway, not wanting to intrude on the intimate moment.
"Let's get you two to bed. You both look dreadful."
Ink shrugged, "I've been worse."
Leila smiled, "We can talk when you wake up. For now, Yakob's bed is free. He won't mind if you use it."
"I've never had a bed before..." Ink said, more to himself than anyone else.
Leila shot a concerned look at Amos, suddenly concerned about putting her son in the same room as the strange man.
"It's okay," Amos interpreted her meaning effortlessly, "We're best friends."
He led the way upstairs, showed Ink to Yakob's perfectly made bed, then flopped down onto his own. He didn't bother to pull up the covers. Sleep claimed him with his face buried in the feather pillow.
...
It was day when Amos awoke. He had a headache, his muscles ached, and his eyes were crusted together. Either he hadn't slept enough, or he had slept too much into the next day.
He yawned, stretching, then rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He opened them slowly, letting his vision adjust to the light, and massaged his temples. Ink was sitting cross-legged on Yakob's bed, watching Amos complete this ritual.
Yakob's bed was still made in much the same manner as Amos had observed it last night. Ink slowly reached up to mimic Amos, massaging his temples also.
Amos dropped his hands. "How long have you been up?" he asked.
"I didn't sleep that much," Ink shrugged.
Amos rolled out of bed, moving over to the chest of his belongings. He opened it, wincing. The creak of the hinge exacerbated the dull pain behind his eyes. Amos stopped, staring at the assorted items in the chest. Everything came back to him in a rush, all the memories of the forest.
"Last night," Amos said to Ink over his shoulder, "You said Shanty brought you here."
"Yeah," Ink nodded, "She's my friend, too."
"She?"
"I think so... she looked like a girl to me."
"How could you tell? They - she - wore a mask. With the freaky snakes?"
"Oh, yeah. Her mask is really cool. She said she didn't need it for me, though, because I'm a special boy."
Amos looked at Ink quizzically. He decided to let it go. "Why'd she bring you here?" he asked, digging out a leather apron from the chest.
Ink stood up and walked over to peer into the chest as well. "She said there would be someone here named Yakob. He's supposed to help me."
So Shanty wasn't lying about involving Yakob...
How could he help Ink?
Amos tossed Ink a spare change of clothes from the chest. They were his own. Ink was too big for Yakob's clothes.
Shanty must have left him in the forest and left to find Yakob. Why wouldn't she want me to meet Ink?
Who is this guy?
"One more question, Ink," Amos said, tying the leather apron around his waist.
"Mhm?"
"You ever worked on a farm?"
It seemed Ink would be staying a while. At least until Yakob returned and he received the 'help' he apparently needed. He went with Leila, who showed him which plants in the fields were wheat and which were weeds to be pulled.
Amos spent some time by Kien's side. He had been moved from the table to the bed while Amos slept. Leila must have done it herself, since Kien wasn't in a state to be up and about.
Kien was conscious, but only just. He smiled when he saw Amos, relatively uninjured. He opened his mouth to speak, but only managed a croak. His lips were dry and cracked.
Amos left and returned with water in a small cup. He tipped it gently into Kien's mouth. Too much. Kien spluttered. Blood came up. Amos panicked and reached for a cloth to dry it up.
"Come on, Dad," he said, trying to cope with humour, "Can't have you losing too much blood."
"Heh," Kien smiled ruefully, "Didn't do too bad for an old man, did I?"
Tears welled in Amos's eyes. His lip trembled. He just nodded.
"Where am I?" Kien asked.
"You're in bed, Dad. We're at home. You're safe now, but you just have to rest."
"But, the farm..."
"It's okay," Amos tried soothing him, "Mum's teaching Ink how to weed at the moment. We'll put that boy to work."
"He's staying?"
"He's here to see Yakob, then after that," Amos paused, "We'll see."
"I didn't get to make eggs this morning."
"Yeah. I'll make them for you tomorrow."
"No!" Kien started, "I mean, please don't."
Amos smiled, "No, no, I insist."
Kien rolled his eyes. "...Rather starve," he muttered to himself.
"Hey! They can't be that bad!"
Kien laughed. In his current state, it was a barking noise that turned into a hacking cough. His body convulsed with each expulsion of air from his lungs. "Go," Kien waved a hand at Amos, "Do some work. You'll kill me if you make me laugh too hard."
Amos left a jug of water and a cup where Kien could reach it. He found some pottage in the kitchen - maybe a day old, but it was covered - and left a bowl for him as well.
"Don't forget," Amos said on the way out, "Eggs tomorrow!"
Kien exaggerated a groan, making Amos grin.