All Fall Down (20 page)

Brit and I then followed him to the smaller of the two dye huts, which had been made as comfortable as possible with the addition of two camp beds, a low table, and a considerable amount of warm bedding. The only source of heat was an open fire pit, and there was a smoke hole that unfortunately let in a good deal of freezing air, but if we kept the fire stoked sufficiently, we should be able to manage well enough.

“I’ll have Merime send over something warm,” he said, speaking to us through the open doorway as Brit and I disposed of our packs and other belongings.

“Thank you, Graf,” I said. “Make sure it’s left outside—we’ll claim it after the person who brings it is safely gone.”

“I know his lordship will wish to speak to you as well,” he went on. “But perhaps it would be better if you ate first.”

I thanked him again, and he disappeared around the corner. Shutting the door, I turned to see Brit already occupied with building up the fire. He looked up at me, dark eyes somewhat nervous.
 

“How long do we have to stay in here, mistress?” he asked.

Well could I understand his worry. The thought of being trapped in here for days with little occupation did not appeal to me, either, but there was no help for it. I simply could not run the risk of exposing the rest of Lord Shaine’s household to the plague while there was even the remotest chance we might have carried it back with us.

“At least four days, Brit,” I replied, somewhat wearily. It somehow sounded even worse when said aloud.

He winced but had the good grace not to make any complaints. At least we were both still alive—no thanks to the plague, or Dorus, for that matter. When we arrived here, I’d had a heavy knitted scarf wound around my neck to keep out the cold, so the bruises I felt there but hadn’t yet seen were safely hidden.
 

As promised, the food arrived—heavenly game pie and a complicated sweet made with cake and nuts and swirls of honey. We both made short work of it, and I had to smile at my own lack of table manners. My mother, I’m sure, would have been appalled.
 

Accompanying the food had been a jug of water newly drawn from the well, along with a flagon of hard cider. Replete, Brit and I drank slowly, savoring the moment. At least now we were both warm and well-fed, as comfortable as our situation could make us. And I felt well enough. Now that my feet had unthawed and my stomach had stopped protesting its empty state, I could assess the rest of my well-being and ascertain that, so far, I could detect no symptoms of any illness.

I was about to ask Brit how he fared when a knock at the door forestalled me. Brushing the crumbs from my breeches, I went to the door but did not open it. Instead, I put my face up to the crack and asked, “Who is it?”

“Lord Shaine.”

A flush rose to my cheeks, and I was suddenly glad that the door stood between us. “My lord.”

“Graf told me what you encountered.”

Oh, but I had only told him the barest bones of the story. I had seen no need to fill his head with horrors—and I saw no reason to do that with Lord Shaine here and now. “Yes, my lord. We were too late. All we could do was get out of there as quickly as we could in the hope of avoiding contagion.”

A silence from the other side of the door. It was hard for me to gauge his reaction without being able to see his face.

“And so you left everything as you found it?”

I swallowed. At the time what I had done had seemed the most logical course, but now I wondered what Lord Shaine would think when I told him I had fired the house and everything—
everyone
—in it.
 
“Alas, no,” I replied slowly. “There was no way Brit and I could have given everyone a proper burial—and the state of the house, the contagion—” I sighed, and said in a rush, “We burned the place to the ground, my lord. I could not leave them there to rot, and I could see no other way.”

This time the stillness that resulted from my words stretched out for so long I began to wonder whether he planned to reply at all.
 

 
“You did what you thought best,” he said finally, and I heard the weariness in his voice even though I could not see his face. “Perhaps, when this is all over, you may have some angry distant relatives to answer to, but—”

I hadn’t even thought of that. Still, I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to live in that house after fifty some-odd corpses rotted away in it. At least the land was still valuable—or would be if enough people could be found to work it. That, however, was none of my concern. I said as much, to which Lord Shaine replied,

“You may be right. And of course I will defend your actions in the event anyone challenges them. But enough of that.” He paused, then asked, with a subtle shift in tone, “And how goes it with you?”

One hand went to my bruised throat, and again I was thankful for the heavy wooden door that separated us. “I am well enough, my lord. Both Brit and I so far are not showing any symptoms. But of course I won’t know for sure for several days.”

“Of course,” he repeated. “Is there anything you need, while you wait?”

I longed for books, for a piece of half-finished embroidery—anything that might fill the empty hours. But to handle something was to risk infecting it, and I knew I could not take that chance.
   

“No, my lord,” I said at last. “We will have to be patient. I don’t want to—to touch anything until I know for sure.”

A silence in which he might have nodded. I had no way of knowing for sure. “We will keep constant watch on you, Merys.”
 

His words had the air of a farewell about them, and I fought the disappointment I felt rising in my breast. Of course I could not expect him to stand here and talk with me all day. He had his own concerns and duties to attend to.

So I said merely, “Thank you, Lord Shaine.” And I pressed one hand up against the lintel of the door, wishing I could see his face just for one moment.

But I did not get that longed-for glimpse, of course. He said, “We will talk again,” and after that came such a prolonged silence that I knew he had gone, and that Brit and I had been left here to ourselves once more.
   

 
I will not recount those days here. They were wearisome enough to live through the first time. Suffice it to say that Brit and I told each other tales of our respective lands, dozed a good bit, spent long hours staring at the fire, dragged out our meal times so they would fill as much space as possible. But in between were the empty hours and minutes where we did little but sit and wait, wondering when and if our bodies would betray us.
 

That day never came. After four days had passed, and neither of us had yet shown any sign of disease, I deemed it safe for us to finally leave our self-imposed isolation. To be safe we burned the clothes we wore and the bedding we had used; we turned our backs on one another to hide our nakedness until we could gather up the new garments that had been left for us outside the door. And then, finally, we walked back out into the fresh air once more, and stood there for a long while, reacquainting ourselves with the feel of the breeze in our hair and the pale winter sun on our cheeks.

Lord Shaine approached us then, and smiled. “It is good to have you with us again, Mistress Merys,” he said formally, and his gaze shifted to Brit, who stood off to one side, fidgeting and looking worried. “And Brit—you have a home here for as long as you need it. No one will challenge your freed status. Master Breen wondered if you would be interested in assisting him in the mews?”

“Oh, I would, my lord,” Brit exclaimed. His plain, honest face glowed. To be trained in the arts of falconry would one day accord him a high standing in another household. Lord Shaine could not have thought of a better place for him.

“Well, then,” said Lord Shaine. “Run along to Master Breen, and tell him I sent you. I must return with Mistress Merys to the house.”

Brit bowed his head and then turned and ran off in the direction of the mews. I could feel myself smile as I watched him leave. Poor boy, he had done his best over the past few days, but I knew the forced inactivity and constant worry about whether the plague boils would begin to show at any minute had worn on him.

Of course, it had worn on me, too.

But now I was free, with Lord Shaine watching me, and the wind in my hair once more. I had the absurd impulse to whirl about in the courtyard, to open my arms to the half-clouded winter day and embrace its beauty. But of course I did no such thing. Instead I followed Lord Shaine back into the keep, where I was immediately surrounded by Auren and Elissa, Merime, and even young Lord Larol.
 

“So are you truly all right, mistress?”

“Father said they were all dead. Is it true?”

“How could you not get sick, when everyone else did?”

For a moment I could only stare at their faces, confused by the babble of voices after my long isolation.

Lord Shaine held up a hand. “One at a time, I beg you. Mistress Merys has been through quite an ordeal, and we need to give her time to think things through.”

I shot him a grateful look and then smiled. “I’m fine. But the sad news is true as well. The plague took the entire household. My Order teaches precautions to take to avoid the spread of infection, and that is why neither Brit nor I took ill.” I looked past their inquiring faces to Lord Shaine and asked, “And have we had any other news of the world?”

“Some, and none of it good.” His mouth thinned. “A rider came to our gates the morning after you left. No, of course we did not allow him in,” he added, in response to my sudden worried look. “I spoke to him from the second story of the guard house. But the plague is spreading—it has gone forth from here and on into Myalme, where the devastation is great. Or so we are told.”

He fell silent, and I could see his brooding gaze take in the young people who stood by him, the slaves who lingered just within earshot but far enough away so as to be unobtrusive. The hall looked much as it always did—although some straggling greens still decorated the fireplace, the only reminder I could see of the Midwinter celebration—and I thought then of what an island of safety it was. So far we had survived. Could we continue to maintain our isolation and come through this unscathed?
 

“But we are safe,” I said firmly. We could not allow ourselves to be overcome by doubts and fear. We all had to remain strong.

“Yes, we are safe,” he repeated, and his expression softened a bit as he looked on his daughter and her betrothed.
 

The remainders of the Midwinter decorations jogged my memory, and I held out a hand to Auren. “My lady, in all the confusion, I quite forgot to give you your Midwinter gift. Would you come with me and receive it, although it’s quite late?”

“More presents?” she asked, her face lighting up. “It sounds like that celebration in Keshiaar, where they give presents for seven whole days! Have you ever heard of that?”

“I believe I read something of it once,” I replied with a laugh. “But you will have to do with only one from me, I’m afraid. And you, too, Elissa,” I added. “I have something for you as well.”

“Me?” she asked, her delicate face flushing.
 

In answer I held out my hands to both of them, and they gaily followed me up the steps to my tower chamber. I caught a glimpse of Lord Shaine’s approving look before we left the hall, and I knew he must be glad that I had found some way to distract them from the rumors of plague and death.

Auren and Elissa waited in Auren’s chamber as I bade them to stay there while I climbed the extra flight of steps up to the room Elissa and I shared. It would have been far too crowded in there for all three of us.
 

The gifts lay where I had left them, securely wrapped in an extra length of fabric and pushed up against the wall at the head of my bed. As I drew them out and pulled the linen away from them, I saw the brooch I had placed there as well, awaiting a time when I could give it to Lord Shaine. That opportunity had not yet presented itself, although perhaps I could find a time later tonight when we could be alone. But for now I slid it down underneath my pillow and gathered up the two girls’ gifts. Then I hurried back down the stairs to Auren’s chambers, where they both impatiently awaited my arrival.

Both girls showed their appreciation for their gifts, although in very different ways. Auren tore away the linen wrappings that held the hood I had made for her, took one look at the rich brown fur trim and elegant embroidery, and immediately leaped out of her chair, throwing her arms about my neck before I could stop her.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “It’s the best Midwinter gift I’ve gotten!”

Somehow I doubted that, although I knew her current enthusiasm was genuine. Auren lived in the moment; of course it was the best present she’d gotten, because she’d received the others days ago, and they had already lost their novelty.
 

I managed to disentangle myself from her clumsy embrace and said, “I’m very glad it pleases you.”

She reached out to stroke the soft fur that framed the hood, and then ran a finger over the leaves I had embroidered along the fur trim. “You do such lovely work.”

Elissa spoke for the first time. “Yes, mistress, truly you do.” She looked down at the embroidered handkerchief I had given her. Of course her gift was not quite so extravagant as Auren’s, but I suddenly got the feeling that the little piece of embellished linen was the fanciest thing she had ever owned. The light in her eyes dimmed a bit. “But I have nothing for you.”

Truly I had not expected anything, and I said gently, “Midwinter is about giving, not receiving, Elissa. That you are pleased with your gift is enough for me.”

Elissa’s words seemed to have affected Auren as well. “I wanted to give you something, mistress,” Auren said, “but I could not decide what would suit you best.”

Luckily I had always found Auren’s heedlessness to be a source of amusement rather than irritation. So I smiled and replied, “Did not your father already give me the greatest gift your family could give, the gift of my freedom? Surely I have no need of anything else.”