Ghost's Dilemma (4 page)

Ghost was taken aback by her words. "What do you mean? How many people have fallen ill?" A curious pressure warmed his spiral, not quite the push of a vision, but more than the mild tiredness from having exerted his abilities for Merrah's sake.

"I don't know. I haven't gotten out in the past two days. I was so tired, and he was better. I was trying to rest. And then the new vomiting started." Her forlorn voice drew Ghost back to her side.

"I saw Merrah. Mai's dam. Do you know her?" Ghost asked.

"I do. Did she have this? The fever and the purging and then the bloody vomiting?"

Ghost's thoughts were racing. He'd heard of illnesses that could spring up out of nowhere and spread like a wildfire, leaving far too many dead in their wake. The prospect of losing his village to a virulent outbreak made Ghost's stomach clench. He straightened up, looking down at the girl. "Merrah had fever and purging but not the bloody vomit. What about you? Were you ill?"

She peered up at Ghost, red-eyed and teary. "I felt poorly for a day and purged a few times, but then I was fine. What does it mean?"

"I don't know yet. I need to leave and find out what's happening. I'll come back in the morning to check on you. I want to ensure you don't get sick like your alpha. Are you sure you'll be all right staying here?"

The girl ducked her head and stood, moving as though she ached all over. "I have nowhere to go."

"I'll talk to my alpha. We'll make sure you have a place. Gerry can speak for you with the elders, and he'll be glad to help."

"Go find out, because there's too many getting sick now. He was fine, I know it. This shouldn't have happened to him." The girl's haunted eyes tore at Ghost's heart. "He was all I knew."

***

The girl was right. Half the street was sickened by whatever this was and three others had succumbed. Ghost hastened home because his Seeker's kiss needed to be fed, and he was going to have to prepare a great deal more of the healing herbs for those who had just become ill. For the very old and the very young who had reached the bloody vomiting stage, he could do little beyond making them comfortable. It was the Seeker's will if they survived or went into the arms of her dread mate.

Ghost was glad to see Gerry was already home. As much as he needed the comfort and normalcy of Gerry's arms around him, he waved Gerry off. "I've been dealing with an outbreak of something," Ghost said. "Four have died already and a hand more are close to death. I want to change my clothing and wash before I let you near me. I don't know enough about this illness to know if I can pass it to you, and I won't take a chance."

Gerry's eyes widened, but he stepped away. "Do you want to eat? Something simple so you can get to bed and rest."

Ghost shook his head and spoke quickly. "I have to measure out more herbs, so I won't be sleeping any time soon. I need to check the market for ginger root tomorrow too. I know I'm running low and ginger helps settle the stomach."

"You won't do anyone any good if you're exhausted," Gerry replied, but Ghost was already on his way to the wash house with his cloak and tunic in his hands.

Ghost finished stripping in the warmth of the wash house, the bed of coals beside the copper tub keeping the water warm. He wet himself down and reached for the soap he had made from the large nuts Gerry called conkers. The Witch had called them
aesculus hippocastanum
in the ancient words. The bars were rough and scoured away grime and dead skin. Ghost was thorough as he scrubbed, mindful of the Witch's lectures on washing after treating an outbreak of anything. Ghost took great care to follow her advice. Such caution had served the Witch well, after all.

As he scrubbed, Ghost considered whether or not he should use the scrying mirror, as the Witch had taught him, to consult with other witches about this contagion. A flux of the stomach was not uncommon, nor was a fever. To have them together usually meant the person had eaten something that was spoiled, but the illness resolved in all but the very weakest. The bloody vomit was what bothered Ghost. Hemorrhage was not a common symptom at all. Another witch might have encountered a similar case and could help him figure this out.

If this was a plague of some sort, disaster was sure to follow. Harvesttide was past, but the weather was still warm enough to ensure the market was lively. The last few caravans from the South were rolling in, the drays pulling heavy wagons laden with exotic treats that would have to last until the weather allowed for trade to resume. Trade would bring the whole village together, and contagion could pass from person to person fast enough to make containing any outbreak impossible.

Contacting the witchsisters would mean exposing himself to the witches who didn't approve of him, though, and Ghost was not eager to endure another round of their venom. He had passed all manner of tests and had done everything he could to prove he would honor the laws of the sisterhood. His ability to See, which was spoken of in the most ancient texts, should have been an asset. Yet some of the more resistant witches had used his talent as a seer as an excuse to speak against him.
Abomination
was the preferred insult, and the word still rankled.

But in the end, Ghost was a healer, and his obligation was to the sick. His own feelings and sensibilities needed to be put aside. He decided he would give himself this night and one more day to look for answers himself. If he was still uncertain, he would turn to the sisterhood and let those few witches who hated him have their say. He was only seeking help for his patients and his village, making his behavior proper for any witch.

Satisfied with his decision, Ghost sluiced away the thin lather with the dipper. He realized he had forgotten to bring a towel with him. Putting his soiled clothing back on was out of the question. Ghost resigned himself to a quick and chilly run back to the house, naked and wet.

"Sea take me for getting lost in my head again," Ghost muttered, turning around to grab his boots, at least, before he made his dash to the kitchen. He gasped as a thick towel wrapped around him. He turned to see Gerry's gorgeous form standing behind him.

"You were so busy thinking about what you needed to do. I watched you walk off with no towel, no clean clothing, nothing. So I thought I'd come and save you having to run across the yard. I wouldn't have minded the view, but I didn't mind the view watching you wash, either." Gerry's smile lifted Ghost's heart, and his strong arms closed around Ghost along with the towel.

Ghost gazed up at Gerry's handsome face. "It's mutual, you know. I liked watching you wash the very first morning, when the Witch had healed your leg. I was trying not to let you see me, but I was pretty sure you did."

Gerry's laugh was as welcome as his embrace. "I did see you, you're right. You were so shy and skittish, but I couldn't take my eyes off you. Moon shine on me, I was surprised we made it to the table to eat the porridge. I was terrified the Witch was going to do something awful to me too. I hadn't even asked to court you or made my intentions known properly. I just sort of dragged you into bed with me."

"Dragging me was the best way. I'd never have dared let you know I thought you were handsome. Or that you were so brave coping with the pain as well as you did." Ghost let his head rest against Gerry. "I'd seen other people treated for broken bones, and they screamed like the Witch was breaking the bone all over again. Although once or twice she actually did, when the break had started to set on its own and wasn't right. What a nasty sound, bone breaking."

Ghost sighed. "But I guess we'd better get back in the house. After we eat, I need to blend more herbs for fever and stomach flux, and I want to look in the formulary. I'm so frustrated. I feel like I should have the remedy, but what I'm trying isn't quite right." He twisted around to glance at Gerry. "If I can't figure out what to do by tomorrow night, I'll need to contact the sisterhood to see what they know. I'd rather not deal with them, but I can't just hope I get the treatment right. This isn't only some outbreak of stomach aches from spoiled food. I'm worried that this sickness is a full-blown plague."

"You could try to contact the Witch. You should have a way to send out word you want to speak with her and make it seem like a casual thing." Gerry released Ghost and opened the door to the wash house. "This way, no one will have any reason to prod at you. But if the malady is a plague, no one should give you any grief."

Ghost walked back to the house, wrapped in the warm towel, his pace brisk. Gerry kept up, one arm still around him.

"Hmm, your idea might be easier," Ghost said. "But if I can't reach the Witch right away, I'll need to ask the sisterhood anyway. In the meanwhile, I've lost time figuring this out. Merrah is all right for now, but four others died today. Three elderly and a newborn. Not Sari's child, thankfully. Another babe not even a quarter-moon old. The dam never came to me because the alpha thought she didn't need a healer just to bear a babe, even though she was feeling sick. I might have been able to prevent the death if she had." He sighed again. "I wish I could figure this out. There's been no festival in the past quarter-moon. For so many to get sick, and with the same symptoms, there has to be a link. I can't see the pattern yet."

"You've only started looking today, and you don't know you could have saved that babe. Don't be so harsh on yourself," Gerry said, following Ghost into the house. He closed the door behind them, waving a hand at Ghost when Ghost started to object. "Go put on clothing. You need food. Afterward, you can leave the door ajar if you want. But if you get sick, you won't be able to help anyone."

Ghost had to admit Gerry was right. Ghost was worried he would be found lacking, and his incompetence would cause the village to demand a proper witch, a woman who would fit the standard image. Ghost could only do so much, though. No witch could do more, and he needed to remember this.

"You're right. I'll get dressed, we'll eat, and then I'll sort out the herbs and check the drying shed for supplies. Tomorrow will bring its own troubles." Ghost felt better for Gerry's support and offered him a wan smile. "Food sounds good. I'll be right out."

Chapter 4

Gerry watched Ghost measuring herbs as he consulted his formulary, glad the meal had given Ghost some color in his cheeks again. Gerry stood and pressed a kiss to Ghost's temple.

"I've got to go. I'm working guard with Mother at the market. I'll ask for a tally stick for ginger root as part of tonight's trade. You can pick the ginger up tomorrow when the market is open." Ghost was absorbed in his mixing and barely nodded his assent. "Try to sleep tonight?"

Ghost glanced up, and Gerry bit back a moan of desire as he looked into those crystalline eyes.

"I'll try. Do you stay until dawn or are you coming home sooner?" Ghost's agile fingers continued to sift the herbs.

"Is this so you know when to sneak into bed so you can pretend to have been there all along?" Gerry teased. "No, I'm joking, beloved. I think we have until high moon. They're splitting the shifts to keep watch on all the goods up from the South. You want to hear the good news? Conn is taking second shift. Another seasoned guard agreed to train him." Gerry nearly laughed at the expression on Ghost's face. "Honestly, it was Conn's idea to train with someone other than Mother. He said Mother was too soft with him, and he wanted to learn the right way. The kid's growing up, and he's turning out to be a good man."

"Conn and I get along fine." Ghost shrugged.

"Now you do," Gerry countered. "He was jealous of you at first, and you weren't any fonder of him. If he hadn't been such a little shit and picked a fight with you, you wouldn't have run off and gotten kidnapped by the ranger in the first place. He had Mother wrapped around his little finger too. Conn did nothing but whine, and when he got called on his behavior, he played up to Mother. But that was the first time I saw Mother get sharp with the kid. About time too."

"I'm younger than he is," Ghost said and wrinkled his nose in the way Gerry found far too endearing. "You call him
kid
like he's not adult already."

"I remember when he was little and Mother first took him in." Gerry grinned. "I need to go, my witch, before Mother comes to drag me off by my ear like I was a kid myself."

Gerry lingered long enough to kiss Ghost. He didn't want to leave, but he knew he would get to come home to his exotic mate not just tonight, but every night. Ghost would be waiting for him.

Ghost leaned into Gerry, but Gerry could see the tension he held in his shoulders. Gerry kissed him again. "It'll work out. I'll be home later and we can talk more then." Ghost acquiesced and returned to mixing.

***

The warehouses were packed with goods from the last of the Southron caravans to come in. Crates and barrels overflowed with produce, bolts of fine fabrics, dried fruits, and spices and herbs the likes of which couldn't grow in the Heartlands. Planks of deep red wood stacked to the ceiling awaited carpenters to turn them into furniture. Towers of barrels held olive oil, sweet-smelling soaps, and tiny dried fish.

The last caravans of the season had left well-laden with trade goods from the Heartlands to take back to the South. Fine furs and well-worked leathers, sturdy barrels filled with mead, dried sind meat, crates of tubers and gourds, and casks of honey all traveled south.

Gerry had spoken to Mother and the merchant, and his share for the night's work was marked on a tally stick so Ghost could exchange the stick for the spices and herbs he wanted. Ginger root was a local commodity, and the merchants had a plentiful stock. Gerry thought back again to the single-minded way Ghost was pursuing this outbreak. Before now, Gerry had never considered the ramifications of living with a healer if a plague broke out.

"You're lost in thought." Mother's deep voice startled him back to the present.

Gerry scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Sorry. Ghost discovered four dead from illness today. He thinks it might be a plague. He's trying to puzzle out what's happening. I'm going to come home to find him still awake and poring over his formulary."

"He's a dedicated witch," Mother said. "The last time I remember an outbreak like this was before you were born. We lost a lot of good people then. Maybe he'll find something in his notes from the Witch."

"I'd rather he not spend all night reading. He's not going to do anyone any good if he's unconscious from exhaustion," Gerry said. "And I can't hand out his herbs and concoctions. I'm no closer to understanding the ancient writing than I was before I met him."

Mother chuckled. "Reading's not as hard as it looks. It takes practice, like any skill."

Gerry looked at Mother in surprise. "You can read?" He had never seen Mother reading anything, other than the pictographs they all used, or the tally sticks the merchants offered. Counting and numbering was far more important than reading. Gerry himself could count and use tally sticks just fine. The rest was something he had never even thought about.

"Don't look so surprised," Mother said with a smile. "There's a fair bit about me you don't know. Give me some time to get used to you being a fellow alpha and not my dependent. I need to lose the habit of protecting you. You proved yourself in the ruins when you saved Ghost and Conn."

"I guess I never thought anyone but witches or rangers knew the old writing, and even rangers don't know how to read as well as witches." Gerry shrugged.

Mother's gaze was thoughtful. "My dam was a witch. She taught me the writing." He chuckled as he glanced at Gerry. "I had a dam. I didn't just spring up out of the soil, you know."

"I know," Gerry said, embarrassed. "I just hadn't thought about how or where you'd grown up. Did your dam know the Witch?"

Mother gestured for Gerry to walk with him. "My dam knew the Witch, when the Witch was newly come to the sisterhood. The Witch was only eight years older than me. She was supposed to take over for my dam, and so she stayed with us for a time while my dam taught her what was necessary. A good witch knows her village. She keeps track of lessons learned and passes the knowledge on."

They moved into a different room, and the ambrosial smell of spice filled Gerry's nose. Gerry couldn't help but think how much Ghost would enjoy the rich fragrance filling the air.

"Well, I slipped and let on to the Witch I could read the words. Even then, she could make your blood run cold with a single glance." Mother and Gerry scanned the floors to make sure no scavengers or small animals had gotten in to damage the spices.

Gerry knew he had to look like a child caught up in a good tale. "What happened?"

Mother chuckled a little. "She asked me what I was going to do with such an unusual skill. The way she said it, well, I can hear her still. Like she was asking me if I was going to take myself in hand in the center of the market and have a good wank."

Mother's comment brought a smile to Gerry's lips. "Now that sounds like her."

***

After his shift, Gerry was not at all surprised to arrive home and see lamps still lit and a thin trickle of smoke rising from the chimney. Gerry opened the door and Ghost raised his head, his formulary open and a cup in his hand. Exhaustion had left faint bruises under Ghost's eyes, but he brightened when he saw Gerry.

Ghost stood up and stretched. On the formulary cabinet, Gerry saw a basket full of small linen packets marked with daubs of colored wax. Ghost had been busy, and now he was reading over the ancient text. A scrap of paper was next to the formulary, covered in Ghost's tiny writing.

"Any luck?" Gerry asked.

Ghost frowned and sank back down onto his chair. Gerry sat across from him. Ghost twisted his white hair with his ink-smudged fingers. From the looks of Ghost's tangled mop, he had been worrying his hair all evening.

"The hunt is frustrating," Ghost admitted. "A dozen references seem to match the symptoms, but then nothing. They just stop short. I'm going to have to contact the sisterhood in the morning."

"You're sure you want to talk to them?" Gerry reached out to capture one restless hand, Ghost's fingers feeling so soft next to his own calloused hand. "You're willing to deal with the witches who think you're not supposed to be one of them?"

"I have to face them. I can't hide. Those witches win if I do." He sounded determined, and Gerry felt Ghost's slim fingers tighten. "What's important is finding out what this outbreak is, and how to deal with its ravages, before the damned plague gets out of hand. I don't want to be the witch who let his village die because he was scared someone would speak harshly to him. I have to think about the people who are looking to me to help them."

"And what about the Witch herself? Don't you want to try and reach her?" Gerry cupped his free hand around Ghost's cheek. "She might have seen something like this before."

Ghost tangled his fingers with Gerry's. "If she has any information, she'll contact me. But I'm not going to waste time waiting for her. She won't answer a scrying call when she doesn't want to be bothered." He stood, not releasing Gerry's hand. "Let's go to bed. I want to feel you hold me as you sing me to sleep."