Full Spectrum 3 Part 16

Matthew dropped his kit on the shelf and turned to the sink. "It wasn't the baby," he replied curtly. "I was called out on an accident after I got back. Workman fell from a scaffold."

Something in his tone prompted Gremekke to look up from his plate and watch as Matthew splashed water on his face and reached for a towel. "You lost him, I think," said the older man finally.

Matthew gave his face a final wipe and threw the towel angrily down on the counter. "But it wasn't my fault, Gremekke, I swear. I could have saved him, but the bystanders prevented me from working on him so that some local priestess could do some last-rites nonsense." His fist clenched. "Dammit, Gremekke, they hit me!"

"Ah," Gremekke nodded. Unruffled, he took another bite of sausage. "Don't take it personally. So you've met Teah. Didn't you read the cultural report I compiled and had sent to you?"

Caught by surprise, Matthew blinked. "Gremekke, there were fifteen hundred pages of it!"

Gremekke sighed. "I see I might have spared myself the trouble."

Matthew flushed uncomfortably. "I've started it, and I've been looking over it nights, when I'm not out on call. I really couldn't finish it before s.h.i.+pping out; the Corps gave me so little time to prepare."

"Well," said Gremekke mildly, "you have been here for a month now. And if you had finished reading it, you would have been prepared to meet her. She's the only rhyena'v'rae left in the city, maybe on all of Calypso."

"She called herself a... a lethe."

Gremekke smiled. "She pegged you right away as Terran, then. Your accent probably gave you away. "Lethe' is the word you Terrans used to describe the rhyena'v'raien they met after Re-Contact. Don't you remember your Greek mythology? "Lethe' was the name of one of the rivers in Hades. When a dead soul drank from it, the water erased all memories of its former life." Gremekke thoughtfully crumbled some of the bread on his plate. "The Calypsan word we use, rhyena'v'rae, is more complicated. It means both 'death watcher' and 'death cradler.' "

Matthew shook his head. "I don't understand." He ran his hand through his hair. "Look, there's no reason for me to put up with what happened today. I'm thinking of lodging a complaint with the city."

"If you do, you're a fool," Gremekke replied, exasperated. "No, now listen, Matt. What she does is important, and it's not very easy. That patient you lost had contracted with her earlier to show up when he was dying."

"What?"

"It's a fact. n.o.body knows how they do it, but a rhyena'v'rae can look at a person and know exactly when he's going to die."

"I don't believe it. That's impossible!"

"Well, you saw it happen today, didn't you?" Matthew had no answer to that, and Gremekke went on. "What you do is you go to Teah and you ask her, "Can you be my rhyena'v'rae? " If she says yes, that means that she's agreeing that she'll be physically present at your death." Gremekke shook his head. "I don't understand exactly what she does, though I've seen it, of course. It's kind of a psychic process that helps people through the whole thing, gets them past their pain and fear."

"Oh come on, Gremekke. To help people die-what's that supposed to mean?"

Gremekke shrugged. "Well, I don't know. I've certainly never tried dying before, with or without a rhyena'v'rae. But you've had patients who fight death, haven't you? I think that many people do, because they don't know what to expect and they're just d.a.m.ned frightened. And even the ones who slip away quietly sometimes do it with a kind of despair; haven't you noticed? But with her-it's as if she's taking them somewhere, and not just into the darkness. Somehow, it gives them the courage to go."

"So it's a sort of spiritual help, is that what you're saying?"

"Well, not just that," Gremekke said. "There's some kind of a physical component to it, too. It's strange: she holds them, and the ones that are in terrible pain sag in relief, as if they've just gotten a shot of morphine.

"It's also a practical arrangement; she helps you plan your testament, like a lawyer would on Earth, and she's in charge of carrying out any last wishes. She gets paid a flat fee, plus a percentage of the estate later." He rubbed his chin. "Of course, having only one rhyena'v'rae left in the city means that there aren't many people who have a rhyena'v'rae contract. There are plenty who wouldn't consider it anyway." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Rather like all those people on Earth I hear about who tend to put off having their wills done. An attempt to ignore the inevitable."

Matthew thought that over for a moment. "Does she ever say no?" he asked.

"Sometimes. Maybe it's because she knows the person's going to die far away, or someplace where she can't be present, like a burning building, perhaps. Sometimes she refuses because she knows that she's going to die first. But she never tells which it is."

Matthew shook his head in amazement. "I've never heard of anything like this before."

"Humph. I'm not surprised. I suppose it's limited to Calypso. There's an old story of a colonist named Stivan who had a near-death experience -drowning, I think. This was quite some time ago, not too long after contact was broken off with Earth. Anyway, when he came to, he related an experience that sounded similar to so many others: the tunnel, the bright light, and so forth, you know.

"But more than that, Stivan said that it taught him how to die, in a way which humans had forgotten. And that he could help people through the process of dying and teach it to others. He explained that it was a matter of perception. Maybe there's something to that; apparently, he had a very high esper rating. He was the first rhyena'v'rae, and his work was developed by his disciples into the groundwork for the profession. Since Re-Contact has been so recent, I'm not surprised that you never heard about this in medical school."

"I don't know, Gremekke. This is all pretty hard to swallow."

"Well, look at the report. If you still have it."

"I will. I'll go read it right now."

Gremekke put his plate down on the counter. "One more thing," he said. "Can you guess why she always wears that brownish color?"

Matthew frowned. "No. Why?"

"Practicality. It doesn't show the blood so much." He smiled and left, leaving Matthew staring at the crumb-dusted plate.

"Gremekke, we're about out of iodine. Didn't the apothecary deliver it this week?"

Gremekke glanced up from splinting a boy's finger and looked around vaguely. "I thought I had it in the order-no, that's right, I didn't because there was another box under the green cabinets. Is that used up already?"

"That was quinine, not iodine." Matthew shook the almost-empty bottle ruefully. "I'd better go to the apothecary's and get some more to tide us over."

Gremekke nodded. "It's quiet enough now that I can spare you. Sorry about that, lad, but you're right. We'll need it."

Matthew sighed. "We're so spoiled on Earth. What I wouldn't give for a sonic sterilizer."

"Get used to it," Gremekke grunted.

Matthew picked up his cloak, for the afternoon was chilly. At the door, he turned around for one thing more. "I might take just a little longer. There's someone-something I have to do."

Gremekke gave him a shrewd look. "Just so. By all means, take all the time you need."

"Thanks." Just as Matthew was swinging the door shut, he heard Gremekke call out after him: "She lives at the end of Fish Hook Street, beyond the piers by the sh.o.r.e."

Matthew smiled as he set out toward Fish Hook Street. He'd stop at the apothecary's on his way back.

Fish Hook Street was really only a narrow lane, backed by the pier houses where the fishermen stored their nets and gaffs. The street pa.s.sage led Matthew in a curve around to the left and away from the other buildings as he neared the sh.o.r.e. Teah's small home was built on a craggy terrace above the high-tide mark. The path that led to her door pa.s.sed the moored fis.h.i.+ng boats.

He hesitated at the threshold, but the door was ajar, which in the local parlance meant, "Come right in." Accordingly, he pushed it open, removed his shoes, and entered Teah's home.

She was kneeling on a ta.s.seled ghoto, the Calypsan traditional kneeling pad used when visitors came to call. A middle-aged couple knelt on ghotos across from her, and a narrow table spread with papers stood between Teah and her guests. Teah glanced up and gave him a friendly nod and smile, but she continued speaking to the woman visitor.

"Well, give some thought to designating your heir to the partners.h.i.+p. Suppose you do that and come to see me again about the revision, sometime in the next seven-day or so?"

The couple nodded and arose. A few pleasantries were exchanged as Teah gathered up and handed over the papers, and then the couple took their leave, brus.h.i.+ng quietly past Matthew and retrieving their shoes by the door before heading back down the path.

"Good afternoon, Rhyena'v'rae," Matthew said a bit stiffly. "I am sorry if I was intruding."

"No, no, we were just finis.h.i.+ng up. My door is always open, Hev'rae Mateo," she replied pleasantly, and Matthew wondered how she had known his name. "I am happy to see you. Would you care to join me for a walk along the beach?"

"Yes, I would."

They walked down toward the water in silence. The path twisted and turned between large gray rocks, widening out at the line where the long, blowing beach gra.s.ses began. The sharp blades cut against their ankles, and the white sands s.h.i.+fted under their feet. At the bottom of the slope, they turned and began walking away from the wharves, keeping near the sh.o.r.e. Teah seemed content to let him speak first, and finally he did.

"Rhyena'v'rae, maybe you knew that I'm in the Peace Corps."

"Yes, I did."

"Before I came out here," he continued, groping for words, "they told me in training that I would run into situations where I'd have to think twice about my a.s.sumptions-about what I think is right. At first I a.s.sumed they were just talking about medicine, but I know now it's more than that. I talked with Hev'rae Gremekke and took the opportunity to learn something about what you do, and, well-I didn't understand."

She nodded. "And I regret the treatment you received from the others who were there. Let us agree to make a fresh start and think no more of what happened, Hev'rae. I think it speaks well of your dedication, that you don't yield to Death without a fight." She smiled up at him. "But sometimes a hev'rae must stop and remind himself that Death may also come as a friend."

Matthew thought of Jokko, pleading to know the fate of his family. "Sometimes, maybe. But not always, I think," he said.

"Not always."

"Look, I thought I should come and talk-"

A shout behind them interrupted him. "Teah! Amo Teah!"

Teah turned around. A small boy was running toward them, holding something out. "Look what I have!"

She clapped her hands together, beaming like a little girl, and squatted down to examine the treasure as the boy ran up to join them. "What is it? Why, it's a turtle! Where ever did you find it, Rano?"

"In the tide pool." He was a fair, curly-headed child, with a generous sprinkling of freckles across his nose. He grinned up at Matthew and eagerly held out his prize for examination. "See, it's a red-spotted turtle! Can I keep it, Amo Teah?"

"I know that you could take good care of it, Rano..."

The boy stuck out his chest, swelling with responsibility. "Of course I can!"

"Of course you can. But don't you think that it should be released again?"

"But I found it! How could I let it go?" he asked plaintively.

"I know it's very hard. Maybe it would help if you think that you're letting it go back to the open sea because that's where it's happiest, out there with its family."

"Well-" the boy pondered the question seriously. "If I put it back now, it could swim out with the next tide."

She gave him a hug, unmindful of the wet turtle between them. He squirmed free, flashed another grin to show her that there were no hard feelings, and then ran back to the rocks where the tidal basins formed. Teah stood and called after him, "I'll see you tonight."

He stopped and turned toward her. "Don't be late like last night!"

Teah laughed. "I promise you won't have to wait for your supper this time." She watched him go, a fond smile still on her face.

"A fine boy," Matthew commented. "Your son?"

Her smile faded. "No. I regret to say I have no children." Squinting against the setting sun, Matthew turned to watch the boy clamber up the huge boulders. Teah looked at Matthew and smiled again. "I suppose I am his second mother, in a way-that's why he calls me Amo. Actually, I'm his aunt. His mother is my sister Briena, and she has to sc.r.a.pe a bit to make ends meet-she's a widow. I'm afraid that sometimes she finds it difficult to find time for him."

They walked slowly and talked some more. He told her a little about his a.s.signment. "I never expected to leave Earth at all. I had just signed on with the Peace Corps when the news came that the Corps was going to be joining the Re-Contact project, helping with the rea.s.similation between Earth and Calypso. That changed everyone's priorities in a hurry, so I was sent here instead of to my original a.s.signment. The Corps named Gremekke as my sponsor mostly because he's the senior hev'rae in the city, and they figured he'd have plenty of experience for me to draw upon. I'm expected to relieve him of some of his caseload, too. He never complains, but he's getting up in years, and it's too wearing for him to run the clinic by himself now."

She listened politely, but he wondered how much of what he told her she already knew. He got the impression that she had known Gremekke for a long time. She probably knew all the healers in the city well. How did they feel about working with her?

"One thing," he said, and stopped. She looked at him inquiringly. He rubbed his chin. "I don't know if I can say this right. I'm still not exactly comfortable with the language, but, well, how can you possibly justify this? What you do, I mean?"

She c.o.c.ked her head. "Justify?" Thoughtfully, she watched the sea-birds dip and mew in the distance. "You have an oath that you take when you become a hev'rae, don't you?"

He nodded. "It's called the Hippocratic Oath."

"My profession has something similar, which also gives me ethical constraints. I never reveal when anyone's time is, for example, even to the client. And I don't allow myself to profit from any confidential information about estates or family matters. My first responsibility is to my clients and to their bereaved."

Matthew sighed. "I guess I didn't make myself clear. I meant when somebody sees you coming, don't they just, uh, give up? How can that be right?"

"It's not something I cause. It's what I see." She pointed to a promontory ahead of them, jutting out into the sea. "Look, do you see that tree there, overhanging the sh.o.r.e?"

"Yes."

"Do you see how the sand is eroding away from the roots, trickling down the hill into the water little by little? If you notice that, and if you know how much sand is lost every day, and how big the tree is and how much support it needs, you would have a good idea about when the tree will topple into the water. That's not the same as taking an axe and cutting the tree down."

He thought about it for a moment. "What if I hold the sea back with stones?"

"You could, I suppose. But the waves would eventually work them free."

"Then I'd transplant the tree."

She laughed. "Ah, you are stubborn, I see. But the promontory isn't infinitely wide. And the tree, after all, must remain rooted in the sand. We are all mortal, Hev'rae." She turned to face him again. "And the tree will fall, you see. You might perhaps delay the inevitable, but you can't do anything to stop the sea."

They walked along in silence for a few more moments. Finally, Matthew said, "Look, I don't think I can accept what you're saying."

"No?"

"I mean, it would ruin me as a hev'rae if I believed that. I have a duty to my profession, and this-it's as if you're telling me I should just throw up my hands and let the sea wash in. I couldn't live with myself if I did that."

She looked surprised. "Truly, I don't ask that of you. There are other hev'raien in the city who feel as you do, you know. And yet I can still work with them, because each of us knows that we all want the same thing."

"Oh?" he said, his tone politely doubting.

"Yes," she said firmly. "We want to help our patients, our clients."

"I suppose so. I mean, I can see how the legal arrangements you make and the counseling you do would be helpful."

"But I should concern myself with only those affairs, perhaps, and stay out of your way?" she replied shrewdly. Matthew glanced at her, but her face looked amused, not angry. "I'm afraid that my duties to my profession will not allow you to have the one without the other, Hev'rae." She made an enigmatic gesture. "We must simply agree that we disagree. It is sometimes so."

Eventually, they arrived back at her home. "Well, thank you for talking with me anyway, Rhyena'v'rae," Matthew said. "You've given me some things to think about." It was the truth, he realized with some surprise.

"You have done that for me, also." She plucked aside a strand of hair that the breeze was blowing in her eyes and turned to face him.

At her cool appraisal, he felt a faint chill. He noticed that her eyes had dilated, as if something had made her flinch.