Descending Road - CAN I HAVE SOME SOUP by Dana W. Paxson

CAN I HAVE SOME SOUP

1561 4D

A half-hour had passed. He gulped the last of the sweet tea and stood up. Time to check on them — maybe they’d just given up.

Or maybe they were sitting there praying like his aunt did, and getting the same results, too. He took a step toward the kitchen door, and it popped open toward him, nearly striking his nose; he jumped back. The woman Marra came out, rubbing her lower back and grimacing.

A little voice called, “Mama!” It was Virrani‘s. He strode into the kitchen.

Virrani was sitting up on the table, clutching herself and staring around. He gaped.

Time had run backward. His daughter’s skin had smoothed; the smashed and jagged places had sunk back into now-straightened limbs. Only the streaks and blotches of blood on her chewed-up coverall gave any indication that Virra had been hurt. Her eyelid and eye were now back in place, just as they had been before this awful accident, before he’d—

“Virra!” His heart leaped; he ran to his daughter and stopped, tenderly tracing the lines of her face with a finger. Wonder and fear held him.

Marra‘s voice said, “She’s better now. You won’t need to do more than give her a drop of this oil every night, in a chender-bark tea.” Marra held out a small amber bottle. “Go on, she’s fine. Pick her up. She can walk tomorrow.” Marra leaned on tiptoe and whispered to him, “She won’t remember any of the bad parts.”

He gathered the little girl tenderly into his arms, and she clung to him, burying her face in his neck. Beyond joy and amazement, he took refuge in the details. “I don’t know what kind of magic you use, but I’ll take it. What will this cost me?” He took the bottle.

“You’re a harvestry specialist, right? I saw you working on Joyann‘s droid about a month ago.”

“I do them, brains and all.” As if it mattered.

“We’ll call in a repair job. That’ll even us.”

A repair job? Was that all she’d want? He restrained himself from offering her anything in the world.

“It’s so little for Virra’s life,” he said earnestly. The other woman was making some noises behind him.

Marra looked past him, hesitated. “Well, uh, make it two repair calls, then.”

“It’s still—“

“That’s enough. Now take her home. You want to be with Mama, now, Virra?” The little girl nodded and brushed back blood-matted hair from her forehead.

“Thank you. Any time you want something, let me know.” Bowing and smiling, Tiurin bundled his daughter under his cape, and into the cart cab; she wiggled against him and said,

“I’m cold, Father. Can I have some soup when we get home?”

“Of course, Virra.” He’d sing her all the way home. He said, “Cart, home, as fast as you can.”

“Aye,” the autocart answered. It chugged, spat smoke, and lurched around in a half-circle. No one would believe this. He wrapped his cape around his little girl, and peered into the wet night.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	CAN I HAVE SOME SOUP 1561 4D A half-hour had passed. He gulped the last of the sweet tea and stood up. Time to check on them — maybe they’d just given up. Or maybe they were sitting there praying like his aunt did, and getting the same results, too. He took a step toward the kitchen door, and it popped open toward him, nearly striking his nose; he jumped back. The woman Marra came out, rubbing her lower back and grimacing. A little voice called, “Mama!” It was Virrani‘s. He strode into the kitchen. Virrani was sitting up on the table, clutching herself and staring around. He gaped. Time had run backward. His daughter’s skin had smoothed; the smashed and jagged places had sunk back into now-straightened limbs. Only the streaks and blotches of blood on her chewed-up coverall gave any indication that Virra had been hurt. Her eyelid and eye were now back in place, just as they had been before this awful accident, before he’d— “Virra!” His heart leaped; he ran to his daughter and stopped, tenderly tracing the lines of her face with a finger. Wonder and fear held him. Marra‘s voice said, “She’s better now. You won’t need to do more than give her a drop of this oil every night, in a chender-bark tea.” Marra held out a small amber bottle. “Go on, she’s fine. Pick her up. She can walk tomorrow.” Marra leaned on tiptoe and whispered to him, “She won’t remember any of the bad parts.” He gathered the little girl tenderly into his arms, and she clung to him, burying her face in his neck. Beyond joy and amazement, he took refuge in the details. “I don’t know what kind of magic you use, but I’ll take it. What will this cost me?” He took the bottle. “You’re a harvestry specialist, right? I saw you working on Joyann‘s droid about a month ago.” “I do them, brains and all.” As if it mattered. “We’ll call in a repair job. That’ll even us.” A repair job? Was that all she’d want? He restrained himself from offering her anything in the world. “It’s so little for Virra’s life,” he said earnestly. The other woman was making some noises behind him. Marra looked past him, hesitated. “Well, uh, make it two repair calls, then.” “It’s still—“ “That’s enough. Now take her home. You want to be with Mama, now, Virra?” The little girl nodded and brushed back blood-matted hair from her forehead. “Thank you. Any time you want something, let me know.” Bowing and smiling, Tiurin bundled his daughter under his cape, and into the cart cab; she wiggled against him and said, “I’m cold, Father. Can I have some soup when we get home?” “Of course, Virra.” He’d sing her all the way home. He said, “Cart, home, as fast as you can.” “Aye,” the autocart answered. It chugged, spat smoke, and lurched around in a half-circle. No one would believe this. He wrapped his cape around his little girl, and peered into the wet night.