Read The Pillar for Free Online

he tended to think of it as Enis’s house, not his own. Today, though, a warm fondness stirred in his chest. Odd.
    All the peaceful contentment fled as soon as he opened the door and found Boro curled in the middle of the floor.
    Faris dropped everything he carried and rushed to Boro’s side. Boro was shivering violently, and a few of the wounds on his back had reopened and were sluggishly bleeding. He started at Faris’s touch on his shoulder, uncurled slightly, and looked up blearily. “Fell,” he wheezed.
    Not wanting to waste time in conversation, Faris lifted him up and dragged him across the floor. They both collapsed onto the bed. Faris was breathless from the shock and exertion, but Boro was still very cold, so Faris maneuvered him around and then under the blankets. More bloodstains on the bedding, but that wasn’t the worst concern now. Instead, he uncovered bits of Boro’s body, checking for new injuries. Only then did he notice that Boro reeked of urine. Faris glanced at the patch of floor where Boro had fallen—a drying puddle told the tale.
    “What were you doing?” he scolded, his tone less harsh than he’d intended.
    Boro’s eyes were closed. “Needed to piss.”
    “I see that. You have a chamber pot.”
    At first Boro seemed disinclined to answer. But eventually he rasped, “Didn’t want to… trouble you.”
    Faris snorted. “ That worked out well, didn’t it? I told you. This is what I do. Yours isn’t the first chamber pot I’ve had to empty, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. I’ve faced much worse.”
    Boro opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. Will you….” He swallowed thickly. “How will I be punished?”
    The question made Faris shudder. “You won’t be. You’re not a slave any longer.”
    “What am I?” Boro whispered.
    “Just… just a man. A free man.”
    “Free,” said Boro, as if he’d never heard the word before.
    Faris ignored the way his stomach clenched. “Look. I don’t own you. But for the good of us both, obey my orders until you’re well. Use the cursed chamber pot. Don’t get out of bed until you’re stronger. Eat and drink what I give you, let your wounds heal, and rest.”
    “I’m not very obedient.” Was that a glint of humor in those blue eyes?
    Faris sighed. “Then if you must fall, do it on a rug near the fire, because I’m not carrying you around again. You’re heavy.”
    After a few slow blinks, Boro said, “I should sleep on the floor anyway. This is your bed.”
    “I’ll be happy to reclaim it once you’re healed.”
    “Could share.”
    “No,” Faris said firmly. “I don’t want to hurt you. I thrash about in my sleep.” That wasn’t a lie but wasn’t exactly the truth.
    Boro let the matter drop. Aside from a few clucks of Faris’s tongue and a few quiet groans from Boro, both men were silent as Faris medicated the reopened wounds. He decided they didn’t need bandages. The two men carefully avoided eye contact while Faris ran a warm, soapy cloth over Boro’s skin, cleansing away urine, blood, and dirt.
    Finally, Faris warmed a bowl of mush and a cup of tea, and he helped Boro consume them both. The tea was strong stuff, meant to ease pain and bring on sleep. And it worked; Boro slipped into slumber before the food was quite gone.
    That left Faris to grumble quietly to himself as he cleaned up the mess. He washed the pots and bowls and cups, scrubbed the floor, gently replaced a dirtied blanket with a clean one. He put away the food he’d dropped when he came home. He made himself a small meal and mild tea, and he sat at his table with a stack of Enis’s notes on treating Saint Anthony’s fire. There had been two cases of the illness the previous winter—both unfortunate people died—and Faris wanted to be prepared in case it struck again.
    Enis’s writing was neat but tiny. After a while, Faris’s eyes ached. If it had been morning, he’d have gone for a walk in the hills. If it had been night, he would have