All Fall Down (30 page)

The girl fled, pewter candlestick clutched in one hand as if it were the only thing protecting her from the darkness that sought to swallow us all. Perhaps it was.
 

I sat there, Shaine’s head cradled in my hands, as I fought the fear rising in me. Yes, he had the plague, but he was not coughing. He had the less virulent sort. Master Wilys had survived the thing, and Shaine would as well. I tried not to think of Grahm and Drym, dead of this thing, and with twenty years of vigor that should have been on their side. Obviously I had no way of knowing who would live and who would die, but I knew I would do anything to keep the man I loved alive.

In a very short amount of time, Elissa reappeared with Raifal and the red-headed slave whose name I had never learned. Because they had spent a lifetime in servitude, they did not waste time with expostulations or exclamations of dismay. They merely took up their fallen lord and took him down the narrow stairs, on into his suite and then his bedchamber. I hurried ahead of them, pulling down the bedclothes so the bed would be ready to receive its occupant. Once they had set him down there, I thanked them hurriedly and set about removing his boots.

“Stir up the fire, Elissa,” I commanded, and she hastened to comply. It had burned down to almost nothing, but the coals were still hot enough that it blazed up again quickly enough, showing me her white face, and how she shivered in her nightdress with only the dark shawl to ward off the castle’s chill. I hoped that was all which ailed her, but I asked anyway, “Do you feel ill, Elissa? Any fever?”

“No, mistress,” she said immediately. “Only it’s so cold, and I had no chance to put on proper clothes. Should I?”

“No. I can manage here on my own. Go on upstairs and keep watch on Lady Auren. If she sleeps, try to sleep as well. You will be the better for it.”

She did not have the strength to protest, poor child, but only nodded her head and then fled the chamber. I returned my attention to Shaine, who had begun to toss and turn, the fever flaring even hotter. I had had no chance to make more of my willowbark tea, but I set about the procedure grimly, attended by an overwhelming sense of futility. It had helped Master Wilys, but that meant little, for far more than the single man who had survived had already perished.
 

But I would allow no further thoughts of defeat. As the water in the trivet over the fire heated, I pushed the covers away so I could examine Shaine further. The lump in his groin was large and well-developed, a whitish bulge surrounded by an angry sea of red. How it had gotten so large so fast, I had no idea. And I wondered then whether he had been experiencing symptoms for some time and had only concealed them so he would not be sent away from Auren’s bedside. It would explain some of his odd shortness of temper earlier, when normally he would not have reacted to my suggestion in the way he had.
 

Even the lightest touch of my finger on the plague boil was enough to have him twitch violently away from my touch. At once I lifted my hand and stared down at the loathsome bulge, all the while trying not to pay attention to the expanse of well-muscled thigh below it, nor his organ in its nest of dark hair only a few inches away. Of course he was not the first man I had seen thus, but it was a far different thing, I was finding, when such sights belonged to the man you loved, whom you had hoped in the dark, wakeful hours of the night might make you his. But I had no time for such things. First, I had to make sure he lived.

Steam drifted up from the pan of water over the fire. I rose from Shaine’s bedside to cast the leaves upon the water’s surface, and somehow made myself wait as they steeped. I worried that he would fight me over swallowing the hot liquid, but to my surprise he did not resist at all. His head lay slack against my hand as I propped it up and poured some of the willowbark tea down his throat. Then he did cough, just a little, but I knew it was only a reaction to the tisane and not the deep, racking spasms of someone infected with the pneumonic form of the disease.
 

As if from a great distance, I heard a male voice say my name. “Mistress Merys!”

I did not look up, but only continued to wipe the sweat from Lord Shaine’s brow. “What?”
 

“Mistress, we have many ill—we need you in the hall—”

“I cannot come!” I snapped. “Can you not see that I am attending to your lord?”

“Yes, but—”

“I will come when I can. If he will but sleep, then I will come. In the meantime, have Tresa and Lisane brew more willowbark tea for those who have fevers.”

“But Harl is having fits—”

“I said I will come when I can!” I burst out, and then there was silence, followed by slow steps and the slam of a door.

How glad I was then that my masters in the Order were not there to see me come to such a pass. For our teachings plainly told that a physician could never allow the needs of one patient to outweigh the needs of many, and yet here I was shutting myself out to those suffering in the hall below, simply because the man who lay in the bed before me was one I had come to love, who was more precious to me than the whole castle of them put together.
 

Hot tears filled my eyes, and I choked back a sob. “Forgive me,” I told Shaine, who lay there, heart racing as if he had just run up a mountain, his whole form shivering with a fever that the willowbark seemed unable to touch. “I must go to them, but how can I leave you?”

Of course he made no response, so I was left to console myself that somewhere within his pain and delirium he had heard me, and understood. Foolish, I know, but it was the only way I could force myself to stand and then descend the stairs.

What passed then was an hour—perhaps more—of going from person to person, watching the faces of those I had come to know and care about contort in pain or stare blindly in delirium, of watching some of them pass from this world, even as I fought to break the fevers that tormented them, or loosen the bile that choked them one by one. And those who had yet to fall ill watched with the weary resignation of the condemned man who knew that it would be his neck next in the noose.

Finally, though, I broke away, saying I must see to their lord, that they need only wait a few minutes and I would return to tend to them. Whether this was a lie, or whether I truly meant it, I could not have said. I only knew that I must be away, for in the time I had been gone he could have left this world as well, passing from me before I ever had a chance to tell him all that was in my heart. I took the narrow, treacherous stairs two at a time, my fear giving my feet a sureness they had never known before. And I burst into Shaine’s room, dreading what I would see, and yet knowing I had to look.

And then I did weep, for he was much as I had left him, his tall form limp and quiet on the bed, although I could hear his frenzied panting from where I stood. An incoherent cry tore itself from my lips, and I ran to him, dropping to my knees beside his bed.
 

“Dearest,” I whispered, for I knew then that he was dearer to me than anything or anyone I had known, the one thing in this world from which I did not dare to be parted. Surely it was safe for me to utter that word now, when his delirium would keep him from understanding what it meant.

“Merys,” he murmured, his lips dry and cracked from the fever. “Hurts.”

“I know, Shaine. I know.” Although I wished I did not have to look, I lifted away the bedclothes so I could inspect the plague boil. It had risen some more, but it did not seem quite ready to be lanced. And the coward part of me was glad, for I would have to cause him more pain in doing so. If we could only last until the morning light—and truly, it was so very late that the sun should be rising in another hour or so—then I would feel more fit to attempt such a procedure. As to who I could possibly find to help me, I had no idea. Elissa was biddable enough, but I misdoubted she would last more than two or three minutes into the operation, even if I drugged Shaine so he lay quiescent through the ordeal.
 

The weight of weariness fell on me then, so heavy it was as if a real physical force somehow burdened my shoulders and caused my legs to ache. I could endure without sleep if I must, but sooner or later either I or one of my patients would pay the price. I might fall ill myself, or make a mistake that could cost someone their life. Shaine seemed stable for the moment, and if anything changed with Auren, I knew Elissa would come to fetch me. Surely just a quarter-hour or so would suffice; I had bolstered myself with such brief respites while nursing patients through the influenza outbreak in Lystare a few years back.
 

That justification seemed to be all it required. I blinked, then tried to shake my head, but somehow sleep fell over me in a dark cloud as my head fell upon Shaine’s bed and my body slumped against the frame.
 

At first all was utter black, deep as a night without stars or moons, and then I saw a warm glow far off in the distance, one that might have heralded the rising of the sun, save that it came from the west. Within that golden light was a figure. As it came closer I saw that figure was the shape of a woman, one of my own age or thereabouts, save that she had a beauty which would have drawn notice even in the courts of my own king. Her hair was the rich, warm brown of the finest loam, and her eyes glinted with the pure blue of a summer sky. Her gown was also blue, the deep shade of a sapphire necklace I had once seen around the neck of the Duchess of Trelion.

The strange woman smiled at me, and held out her hand.

“Merys Thranion.”

Startled to hear her speak my name as if she had known me all my life, still I rose from where I had been crumpled against Lord Shaine’s bed. My fatigue of just a few moments earlier seemed to have dropped away, and likewise I was surprised to look down and see that I wore my fine gown of wine-colored velvet rather than the crumpled brown working gown that had been on my back for the greater part of a day and a half.

 
“You have my name,” I said, “but I do not know yours.”

Her smile broadened, showing a dimple in the creamy skin next to her rose-pink mouth. “What is in a name? I have many, you know. But for simplicity’s sake, you may call me Inyanna.”

She must have been jesting, although there were many who would have said that for a mortal woman to claim the name of a goddess was not a jest, but purest blasphemy. I met her gaze directly and replied, “Surely you do not think I will accept that.”

“Accept it or not—it is the simple truth. You are a doubting one, Merys Thranion, and perhaps it will take more than simple words to convince you. But look about, and tell me what you see.”

Then I looked away from her face, and saw that we stood not in Lord Shaine’s bedchamber, but on a peak of the Opal Mountains, with all of Seldd spread out before us. Around glinted me fresh-fallen snow, and yet I felt no cold, not even through the low indoor slippers I wore. To the east the sun rose, spreading a false warmth over the land before us. All appeared peaceful enough, but I knew that within those dark clusters of villages and towns there must be many more struggling to live, many whom the plague had already claimed.

It seemed so real that I could reach out and touch it, and I told myself it must all be a product of my sleeping mind. “Is this a dream?”

“You can call it thus, if it will help. But it is much more than that.”

She waved a graceful hand, and the picture before me changed, and showed me the familiar shapes and colors of Auren’s room. I saw then the terrible struggle as she coughed and the air strangled in her throat. Elissa held a handkerchief for her, tears streaking down her cheeks. She glanced about wildly, as if she expected someone to come to her aid.

“I must go to her!” I cried.

“Why?” the woman who called herself Inyanna inquired.
 

I whirled on her. “Why? Because she is my charge. I should never have left her.”

“You left her to watch over her father. You are a very capable woman, Merys Thranion, but you are only one. And even one as capable as you cannot stop the inevitable.”

Even though I knew I must be asleep, still I took a few steps forward, urgency driving my feet against all reason. And then I fetched up against the edge of a cliff, as Inyanna’s voice came to me,

“Where would you run, Merys Thranion?
 
Even if you could somehow get down from this mountain, you would not be there in time.”

“In time for what?” I asked, my heart seizing with dread. The strange woman’s cool tones mocked me.

“You see.”

As I watched in horror, I saw Auren choking, gasping…and then falling, finally silent and still, against her pillow. Elissa let out a little scream and burst into noisy sobs before climbing to her feet and running from the room, calling my name.

“And what will she find, when she goes to seek me?” I demanded. Anger kept the sorrow at bay, allowed me to ask the questions I must.

“She will find you asleep, your cheek on the bed of the man you love. And she will wake you, and take you to see her mistress, and you will mourn the dead.”

This information was relayed in a cool, dispassionate tone, and Inyanna’s placid, vaguely interested expression never altered.

“You are a monster,” I said.

“A monster?” she repeated. “Hardly. What distorted views you mortals have, to think that all that passes in the world below is at our behest. We have greater things to concern us than your travails, especially since we know they are as nothing, compared to what comes next.”

“And what is that?”

Inyanna smiled again, my obvious ire apparently of little import. “Watch, and see.”

As little as I wished to turn back to the vision—or dream, or whatever it was—reluctantly I did as she bade me, and focused on the dim little chamber, one that had just begun to be touched by the rising sun. Auren’s body was a still, dark shape against the white linen of her bedsheets. Then I thought I saw movement in the shadows of the room, movement that resolved itself into the tall form of a man in old-fashioned long robes. Over all he wore a dark cloak, but the hood was thrown back to show the face of a man in his prime, noble and cleanly etched. Even in the dim illumination of the chamber I could see the glint of his grey eyes.