Yana was aware of the plethora of laboratory equipment from slidetrays to electronic microscopes-and not obsolete ones, at that. She waved her hand at them.
“You look as if you could analyze the contents …”
“Ah …” Sean held up his hands. “It’s unethical to plumb the secrets of another professional. I do animals; she does humans.”
“But isn’t there an overlap somewhere along the line?” Yana asked.
“How so?”
“Those cats of hers. And you’ve cats that are totally different.”
Sean grinned so broadly that Yana knew she would never get an honest answer on that score. “So I do.” Then he turned from her and went back to the cabinet. He held up the bottle. “I can spare this since it seems to have been so effective for you.”
Yana hesitated. She had had to use up far too much of her personal baggage allowance for enough bottles of the syrup to see her through her recuperation. But there was no question that Clodagh’s was more effective. She sighed, cutting that loss and accepting the bottle. Maybe it would suffice to see the cough to an end before she had to go back to the prescription stuff.
“Clodagh makes it up in huge batches every fall to cope with coughs,” Sean said, tucking the bottle securely in the inner vest pocket. “You can get more as you need it.”
Yana felt another twinge of resentment against a system that did not supply her with enough money for even basic needs, much less medicinal niceties.
“Can you give me a few helpful hints about this place?”
He regarded her in surprise. “Bunny’s good at that.”
“Yes, but when I ask how I am to repay someone for leaving fuel by my door when I haven’t asked for any, or giving me fish I don’t know how to cook …”
He laughed with kindly amusement at her disgruntlement. “I see what you mean. It’s so obvious to her that she doesn’t realize how new and confusing it could be for you.” He tucked her arm under his and guided her out of the laboratory, firmly clanging the metal door closed behind him. “Well, now, everyone knows you’re new, and new to the ways of Petaybee, so they’re helping you out. Old custom … especially for people they want to like …”
“Want to like …”
The silver eyes glinted. “They like heroes. No, they genuinely do,” he amended when she snorted in disgust. “You’re worth your weight as a role model …” Then he took a second look at her gauntness. “That’ll improve,” he said kindly. “So they’ll sort of ease you into the environment the best way they can. What you do”- He held up one admonitory finger when she started to protest. -“is return the courtesies to the next stranger who arrives on our frozen shores. Or,” he said, giving her that sly sideways glance that challenged her, “you compose a song to chant at the next latchkay.”
“I don’t think they really want to know about Bremport,” she said very slowly.
His arm pressed hers encouragingly against his side. “They’re tougher people than you realize. And they have a need to know, Yana. As much as you have a need to sing about it, even if you don’t know it.” His eyes were somber.
“Whatever,” she said noncommittally, not willing to accept the truth, or the inevitability, of his suggestion.
They walked the rest of the way back to the main house in silence, a silence that was the most companionable one she had enjoyed in many a year. Scan Shongili was a most unusual man. Where under what sun could she possibly have encountered him before?