Finding the Way and Other Tales of Valdemar (18 page)

“And she’s got solid herbcraft, even if her Healing Gift is mostly untrained.”

 

The East Trade Road flew by under Eodan’s heels, although it was still days of hard riding before they even turned onto the road toward the border with the shadowy land of Iftel. Now that she was
doing
something, the warning sensation had abated to a faint throb of wrongness, and all of Shia’s attention was given to staying in the saddle—especially when Eodan started to leave the road to shorten the journey, cutting through areas impassable for any but a Companion and Herald. He even showed her mind-pictures of how to sit to balance her weight for him as he zigzagged down snow-covered slopes, and sometimes she knew as soon as he did when the footing was uncertain and how she should shift to help him stay upright. Up in the hills, winter still clung stubbornly, and Shia was glad of the well-stocked Waystations when they stopped each night. As the days wore on, the two of them started to share less and less Mindspeech, as every bit of energy was focused on maintaining the brutal pace.

:Chosen, I can Mindspeak Trin.:
Just after dawn that morning, after more than a week of long days of travel, the two had raced past a tiny hamlet between Hunterston and Norflank, astonishing a few early risers.
:She says we’ll be there within a candlemark. Herald Kindo is very ill, but Herald Teo is not as bad. Most of Norflank has been sick to some degree, and it seems at least one person has died each day since the Healer succumbed. She said it starts on the skin, but then spreads through the body, with great boils and fever. Once it gets into the lungs, they start coughing and it isn’t long before the end. Some few have recovered from the skin infection without it spreading.:

:Can you Mindspeak Domar, so he can relay the information to the Companion traveling behind us with the rest of the Healers?:
Shia built a little wall in her mind around the fear that had sprung up at the confirmation of Teo’s illness. Dwelling on it would not help him or the people of Norflank.

Eodan put forth an extra burst of effort as they rounded the last curve of the road and saw the town walls nestled in the valley ahead of them. He galloped to the main gate and pulled up before the guardhouse, his flanks heaving, sweat dulling his coat.

Shia slid off Eodan’s back, her knees wobbling from strain, and knocked at the guardhouse door.

After several long minutes, a window on the second floor opened a crack. “No one gets in or out, order of the town council,” a raspy, weak voice called down.

“I’m here on Herald’s business,” Shia cried back. The window creaked closed, and there was silence.

Her hands clenched into fists, Shia pounded at the gate. “Let me in! I’m here to help!”

To her relief, her answer was a trumpeting neigh and the sound of hooves approaching the other side of the gate, followed by wood scraping on wood.

:Step aside, Chosen,:
Eodan warned, then shouldered past her to throw all of his weight against one edge of the gate. It parted a crack, and he moved back and pushed again, until he had widened the opening enough that he and Shia could slip through to meet the other two Companions.

“Trin, help me. Where are the town Healer’s records and stores?”

The older Companion gave her an affronted look, and from the tossing of Eodan’s head, there were clearly words being exchanged.

:Mount up,:
Trin replied, ignoring the other two.
:I’ll take you.:

Grasping a double-handful of mane, Shia pulled her groaning body onto Trin’s bare back. Trin waited only until she was settled before loping down the deserted main street of Norflank.

:They’re using the town hall as an infirmary,:
she Mindspoke, nodding at the large building on the left.
:That’s where most of the sick folk are. The remaining healthy and the least ill, like the guardsman, are trying to stay apart. The worst are up at the Healer’s buildings—that’s where—:

“Where Herald Kindo is. And Teo?” Shia no longer bothered to hide the strain and fear in her voice.

:No. It hasn’t spread to his lungs yet.:
The Companion’s own pain and worry shaded her Mindvoice. She pulled up before the door of a small building.
:This was where the Healer lived. The larger building behind is the regular infirmary. The smaller is his herbroom, but I don’t think that much is left there.:

Shia slid off Trin’s back, her muscles protesting, and, testing the door, swung it open. “I promise you, Trin, I will do everything I can to save him. To save both of them, if I can. Herald Kindo’s Companion must be . . . ”

:Sjien is almost as exhausted as Eodan—since he became fevered, she has been spending all her energy Shielding him and blocking his Gift so he doesn’t broadcast half-insane Mindspeech from here to Haven. I could barely tear her away long enough to help me reach Domar, when Teo and I couldn’t get through the Iftel border—and Teo started to show the boils.:
Even as she spoke, the other two Companions trotted up behind her, and Shia could see the older Companion looked distracted and somehow wan. Ignoring Shia, she moved out of sight around the back of the house, to the larger infirmary building.

Going to Eodan, Shia removed his tack, tucking each piece inside the door of the Healer’s house, her herb-packs to one side. “Is there stabling for you two, someone to groom out Eodan?” Trin tossed her head in a nod, and Shia sighed with relief.

“I’m sorry to leave you to someone else, Eodan, but you two need to get as much information to Domar as possible while I find this Healer’s notes, and see what I can learn.” When Trin led Eodan back down the road toward the town hall, Shia closed the door and faced the room. Digging a tinder out of her packs, she lit a lamp in the fading daylight and started to explore.

A candlemark later, having found the Healer’s notes, she visited the two infirmaries. Things were not quite as bad as she had feared, although the progression of the illness was serious enough. The town had a midwife and two others who had assisted the Healer as they could. The midwife and one of the assistants were ill now themselves, but Curana had been a lucky survivor of the boils, and it was she who now had the care of the remaining patients, dosing them with the last of the Healer’s sleeptea and feverdraw. Her relief on seeing Shia was clear, although she eyed Shia’s Grays with surprise. Most of the sick, including Teo, were asleep, some tossing in fevered dreams. Herald Kindo was one of the worst—his breathing was faint and ragged; the boils had spread to cover his chest and neck; and despite being unconscious, his pain was obvious. He had been placed in a makeshift room at the back door to the infirmary, so his Companion could nose in and out at will. Now she lay on the floor beside his low cot, her head resting on a pillow to brush against his arm. Even in his delirium, his fingers were woven into her mane.

Somehow certain that no one was likely to perish that night, Shia returned to the Healer’s rooms to study his notes—and begin adding her own.

 

The next day dawned bright, with spring warmth, and Shia took that as a good sign. She had spent much of the night reading through the Healer’s notes, concentrating on his descriptions of the symptoms and what his Healing Sight had shown him as he had attempted to treat them. She hoped the Healers who were following her would understand his speculations on the source of the illness, for much of it was beyond her. She had also set some of her dried leaves to steep overnight, hoping that a longer preparation time would increase their potency. With the dawn, she drained them off into two clean-boiled flasks, carefully saving the leaves for reuse, if necessary.

The first visit was to the infirmary behind the Healer’s house, to the most ill. There were eleven in all, with only two or three who seemed to be farther along the progression of the illness than Herald Kindo, but among the eleven there was little to differentiate degrees of sickness. All had boils spread over large portions of their skin, fevers, and ragged, raspy breathing. Washing her hands carefully, Shia centered herself and, thinking of the peace of her herb room in Breyburn, wrapped her Shield of calm stillness around her Gift.

Entering the first small sickroom, she released a tiny portion of her Gift to swirl around her right hand. Holding that hand just above the young man’s head, she sent a silver tendril of her essence into his body, questing through flesh and bone, seeking out anything that had gone wrong within him. The boils were first to her awareness, a seemingly simple infection that appeared as dark spots to her Healing Sight. She resisted the temptation to use her Gift to draw the boy’s waning strength together to push them out, instead sinking her focus deeper. His lungs were also darkly spotted, and she saw a swelling like water in the lungs—but then her Sight noted something else. In his blood, tiny spots rode throughout his body.

This was not in the notes that the Healer of Norflank had left. Had they been missed, these tiny shadows among the larger? Looking at the rest of the young man’s organs, Shia found more spots of infection, but none that surprised her in size or location. Visiting each sickroom in turn, she repeated her search.

At the end of the building, in the makeshift room for Herald Eodan, she finished under Sjien’s watchful eye. She had seen the same thing in each patient, varying only in the size and thickness of distribution of the spots. Drawing her Gift back into herself, Shia sat back on her heels, racking her brain for everything she knew about illnesses of the blood. It was so little, and fear clawed at her, her will faltering at the thought of facing so many, so ill, alone.

:Not alone, Chosen. Never again alone.:
A wave of strength rippled through her from Eodan, and she smiled despite her apprehension.

By now, Curana had come to the infirmary, and she helped Shia dose the eleven with her newly steeped herbs and more sleeptea. With her Healing Sight, Shia had noted three of the sick, along with Herald Kindo, whose lungs and organs were nearly covered with the spots of infections, and to their draughts she added one of the strongest herbs for pain that she had brought with her.

:I do not know that I can do anything more than ease their pain,:
she Mindspoke to Eodan.

:Then you will have given them more than they have had this last week or more, Chosen,:
he replied, his Mindvoice unusually somber.
:Domar assures me that your information is relayed to the Healers that follow us.:

Taking the larger flask of her decoction and an herb-pack, Shia stepped out the door of the shadowy infirmary into the brilliant sun. Closing her eyes, she tipped her face up to feel the warmth soak into her skin and bones, savoring the strength of it. Eodan brushed up behind her, and she leaned against him for a moment, seizing a brief enjoyment of the day before going to the rest of the sick.

 

Although every fiber within her cried out to tend Teo first, Shia worked her way around the makeshift infirmary, using her silvery Healing Sight to assess the progress of the illness within each patient. Even so, she could not help but be aware of where he was, and how many more she had to care for before she would approach him.

Teo was lost in fever when she came to the side of his pallet, but he lay still and a faint hint of a smile flickered across his face. Kneeling beside him, before she even extended her Healing Sight beneath his skin, relief swept through her, for she somehow
knew
that his blood would be clear. She studied his lungs and blood with the same thoroughness, however, and her own breathing relaxed at last when she saw no spots of infection other than the boils themselves.

:Trin?:
Shia Mindspoke softly, confident that his Companion would be nearby and listening for her.

:Yes?:
came the anxious reply.

:He will be well. His blood shows no signs of it, and I will not let him fail now.
:

A burst of gratitude was Trin’s response, and Shia smiled as she continued around the great hall. When she had completed her circle of the building, she stepped outside to where Eodan stood waiting for her. Leaning against him, feeling him sharing his strength to restore her, she closed her eyes with relief. Of all of the patients here, none had shown signs of the spots in their blood. Although many of the townsfolk stayed away from the sick, she was glad to see that some came with broth and porridge for those who were awake and had appetite. And nearly all who had survived the boils either remained to help Curana, or came each day to see if anything was needed.

“What now, Herald-Healer?” Curana had followed Shia, and she waited, wiping her hands on the small towel she had tucked through her belt.

“I am neither Herald nor Healer yet, Curana,” Shia said with a faint smile. “But now we wait to see how the sick respond to the new herbs.”
And we wait for the real Healers to come
, she finished in her head.

:Had your training begun in the time it could have, you would be nearly both.:
Eodan’s Mindvoice held a strange note of regret.

:Then I would not have been
your
Chosen, and I would not wish for that.:

Eodan was silent, but he rubbed his head against her shoulder until she scratched behind his ears, each of them lost for a moment in other thoughts.