Epsilon Twilight
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9. Walk
🕑 Added 2024-03-25 12:16:44 +0000 UTCAloe’s eyes initially shone at the prospect of leaving her room, though they inevitably darkened once she was presented with the method to do so.
“I… why is there a palanquin here?” The scribe’s voice trembled, her body still prone in bed and her head barely raised from the pillow. “And one with a bed at that?”
“To carry you, of course.” Zeeshan with his hands clasped.
“Is there not a better method?” Aloe reacted negatively to the raised seat and the people next to it that carried it. “I do not… feel comfortable about the idea of being carried. It is unbecoming of my position.”
“If you truly want to get a whisp of fresh air and a hint of a walk, this is the best we can do.” The physician stated calmly, though a bit annoyed.
“Would it not be possible to use a wheelchair? You have those here in the palace, right?” Whilst not a common contraption, Aloe had seen those so-called wheelchairs in the medical wings of the University of Sadina. Scholars were fickle, elderly scholars even more.
“We do indeed possess wheelchairs in our storage room,” Zeeshan admitted, “but you are not recovered enough to use one. Remember that the bones you have broken are located on the hip and pelvic area, sitting down may be as extenuating for the recovering marrow as walking.”
Aloe felt enraged at the bald man’s words. Not because he prohibited her from using a wheelchair, but for his wording. The bones you have broken. You. Aloe’s eyes began to heat up – swelling in hate – as her breath became rugged. My fault? MY FAULT? Her hands twisted and her fingers bent unnaturally, aching to wrap around the physician’s neck and press it until it snapped.
It took her more than three breaths to calm down.
Zeeshan continued looking at her, mostly bothered at the inconvenience of waiting, unbeknownst to the hatred boiling inside the scribe. It was so fascinating to Aloe how in a matter of weeks he went from a respected doctor trying to save his patients to barely a nurse who couldn’t keep up with a single patient. You are bored of me, that’s what you are? You? I should be the one bored! I am the bedridden one!
“I guess I can accept those terms,” Aloe told with a sweet yet slightly sour smile. For better or worse, her recovery time had made her better at masquerading. If only to hide the pain.
“Understood.” The physician responded politely with apparent animosity under his façade. “Boys, load her up. And do so very carefully, she is an emir’s protégé.”
The guards, who were even if not more tired than Aloe and Zeeshan, put the palanquin to the ground, and very carefully between the four of them, carried the scribe from her bed to the repurposed palanquin. Aloe had feared their initial touches, her body instinctively shying away from their hands, unable to reconcile big hands with a well-intentioned gesture.
Her heartbeat twisted and turned, almost crying at the hands that enveloped her. It was then – as she was a few millimeters raised from her bed, the only safe place she had had for weeks – that Aloe realized she was not well. That she was not as sturdy as she thought she was. That her scars, her mental ones, had not healed at all.
The scribe tried her best to remain still, but bile threatened to gather in her throat, to unleash her breakfast with more fury than a sandstorm. Her hips may not hurt as she was displaced by those coordinated movements, but her heart certainly ached. Her rugged breathing became insufficient, her body started hyperventilating, her pupils dilated, her back drenched in sweat, her…
Before she knew it, she was already resting on the palanquin.
Zeeshan didn’t give her much attention, even in her panic attack she had held up her mask, but the guards gave her a look. Pity. Whether it was for her expression or the squirming she had done in their arms, they had noticed the scribe’s pain. And they pitied her.
That hurt Aloe even more.
Pity.
Of all the things she wanted, that wasn’t one of them. Too weak, or maybe too proud, the woman didn’t voice her complaints. Instead choosing to remain tucked in the palanquin.
Unlike her bed, the palanquin wasn’t fully horizontal, it was more like an armchair with a very reclined backseat and a high footrest. The artistry didn’t look rushed nor makeshift, meaning someone had been working on this for a few days now at a minimum. Either Zeeshan or Farah already had thought about it and commissioned someone to make the reclined palanquin as she doubted they would have a previous usage for this type of palanquin.
Aloe attributed the foresight to Farah, as she rather not have any positive thoughts directed to the grumpy physician.
Either way, it wasn’t a masterwork of a seat, far from it. The palanquin performed its duty and that was it. Comfortable and easily carriable, it didn’t need to do much more. The weight was also well distributed with her head being barely raised whilst the legs barely dangling down.
“Ready?” Zeeshan commented as she peered at Aloe over her shoulder.
“Ready,” Aloe responded calmly, even if her heart threatened to pour out of her chest.
As well as she was masking her visage, the idea of being moved around – even if it was barely a few centimeters from the ground, which she didn’t think was the case – made her incredibly uncomfortable. She was already weak and incapable of protecting herself, a slide or, heaven forbid, a fall would cripple her if not outright kill her. ‘Toughness’ or not. The scribe was putting, quite literally, her life in the guards’ hands.
The guards flexed their knees, and with a low thud, the palanquin raised to the air. Aloe’s body stopped breathing for a moment after they did that, but she calmed down fast. Though her heartbeat became a mess as they started walking. Her only saving grace was that the room’s door was more than big enough to accommodate for the width of two soldiers and a palanquin.
Whether it was intentional or not, what ended up soothing Aloe was the rhythmic cadence of the guards’ footsteps. Their practiced and simultaneous march betrayed them as soldiers if that was not clear enough.
For a few minutes, Aloe didn’t dare to open her eyes. Yes, the rhythm was perfect, but she was overwhelmed by the world outside her bedchamber.
Her ‘acuity’ was not active, yet she felt more open to every sense than she had been these weeks prior with the new internal infusion active. The smells were easier to distinguish, no longer mixing one with another. The light was brighter, even in the corridor and with her eyelids down. And the sounds… it made her uncomfortable, truth be told.
Aloe could hear with great detail the breathing of the soldiers, a practiced endeavor that felt more of an exercise as she listened to them rather than a vital function. She found herself matching their breathing, even if she wasn’t carrying a palanquin.
Soon, the bright white noise caressing her eyelids exploded with violence. It was starkly clear that they were outside.
With difficulty, or rather hesitation, Aloe opened her eyes.
There was no beautiful world waiting for her to reveal how much she had lost, reality wasn’t like that. Disappointment was the essence of her life. But didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy her limited view. A clear blue sky waited for her, with no clouds in sight.
The scribe let out her breath, only now noticing that she had been holding it since they left the room. She had to been holding it for five minutes, but she didn’t feel dizzy. Whether it was because of her low bodily activity or her infusion, she didn’t have an answer.
The soldiers kept marching, and even if her head and neck were highly restricted by pillows, Aloe managed to catch green in the corners of her eyes.
Trees.
It didn’t surprise her that they led her to the gardens of the palace.
“Could we…” She stopped for a moment, finding it awkward to talk whilst being carried. The soldiers stopped moving to let her gather her words. “Could I be placed on the ground for a moment, I want to see the gardens better, but I cannot do so from my current angle.”
“Of course, venerable scribe.” One of the soldiers behind her responded, surprising Aloe.
The scribe tilted her head, but she didn’t manage to catch anything. “Where is Zeeshan?”
“The court physician left a while ago.” The same soldier responded.
“Of course…” Why doesn’t that surprise me? “Could you find a place with a good view, if it is not much to ask?”
The soldiers answered with a nod and an agreeable mumble as they continued moving around for a while until they settled in place. As the palanquin slowly lowered to the ground, Aloe could not only enjoy the sight of the façade of the palace, right with colors and metallic glints, but also the shadow of the trees. I hadn’t noticed how hot it was until now. She thought, almost gasping. For some reason, she found herself out of breath even if she hadn’t moved a finger.
“You can rest,” Aloe ordered the soldiers, but the four men remained upright and in position.
Right. She couldn’t discern if she didn’t have enough authority to order them that or that they had orders to never break position. Be as it may, Aloe disposed herself to indulge in the view, only that a voice interrupted.
“Oh, my. What do we have here, brother?” Aloe, regretfully, recognized that voice.
Comments
Zachary Patterson
Thank you for the chapter!
BrGustl
Seems like project "Lets destroy the royal guardians with evolution" is doomed from the get go. Not only would it be risky to show a evolved planned to the sultanah (though tbh evolved desert dwellers are a known fact and the sultanah doesn't seem to have understood evolution by having them arround so she needs to get more than just a hunch to create evolution on her own accord) but the guardians are also used by enough people for aloe to not catch a real break
