All Fall Down (34 page)

And you hold on as well
, I thought then, looking up at the dark stone ceiling and seeing again the shape of Lord Shaine on his bed, his pallid face, the fearful slackness of his mouth.
 

When I returned to the kitchen, the water was at full boil, and I instructed the girls to wash the two new pans I had brought out in it, and then dip the cheesecloth in it as well. Afterward they draped the dripping fabric across the openings of both the pans, preparing them to receive the sludgy batch of mold broth I had prepared. Because the liquid was so precious—and because I was taller and stronger than either of the girls—I lifted the pan from the trivet myself and brought it over to the table where the prepared receptacles waited. Slowly I tilted the pot so the liquid could pour out. Somehow I found myself holding my breath as I did so, so fearful was I of splashing even a single drop. But it all transferred easily enough, and I was relieved to see that most of the bread had been broken down enough that it passed through the cheesecloth. Only a fine grit remained on the surface of the fabric, which meant that almost all of what I had prepared could go straight into the mouths of the people who needed it.

I repeated the procedure with the second pan, and then instructed the girls to boil three pewter mugs, one for each of us to carry into the hall. Although I would administer the broth myself—I did not want either Elissa or Alinne to deal with recalcitrant patients—still I knew it would go more quickly if we didn’t have to keep returning to the kitchen to replenish our supply. Likewise we cleansed a quantity of spoons, as many as we could find, so that each plague victim could have his or her own utensil and not risk further contamination.
 

But first Elissa must have her dose, which she took meekly enough, although she couldn’t help wincing as I had her swallow two large spoonfuls of the concoction. Her face screwed up in disgust, and she coughed a little as she tied her linen mask back in place.

“That’s awful!” she exclaimed, once she recovered her breath.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” I said cheerfully. Somehow now that I was done with the brew, I felt immeasurably lighter. Although Inyanna had said the gods did not meddle in human affairs, but only stood back and observed them, I wanted to believe that because I had done as she bade me, she would allow the medicine to work, and drive back the sickness that had threatened to take away all within Donnishold’s walls. At any rate, I had done the best I could. Now only time would tell if those efforts had been for naught.

And then it was Alinne’s turn, and her reaction was much as Elissa’s, although I guessed she exaggerated somewhat for effect. After spluttering a bit, she, too, retied her mask, and then we all went out to the hall, bringing our little pot of hope with us.

Because they had done so much for me, and because they had yet to show any sign of the disease, I gave doses to the women who had been acting as nurses first. Made of sterner stuff than the girls, they swallowed the medicine without complaint, although I saw one give a brief shudder afterward before she stoically replaced her mask and moved on to provide fresh handkerchiefs to a young woman from the dye hut who was coughing incessantly. And from that point it was only a matter of going from bed to bed and cajoling or persuading everyone to take their dose—or in the cases of those so far gone that they barely knew who they were or why they were there, simply pouring the medicine down their throats. By my count there were some forty souls gathered there in the hall, and each of them was given the gift of the precious liquid. By the end I was down to a few inches in one of the pots, and the other was quite dry, but it would be enough. All who were left were Lord Marten and his family, and Lord Shaine and the watching Raifal.

I told Elissa and Alinne that I would go upstairs to tend to those few remaining, and that they should remain in the hall. “And if anyone should show a reaction,” I added, “come and fetch me at once.”

“What kind of reaction?” Elissa asked, her eyes widening above the linen mask. It was obvious that she had expected once everyone had their medicine, then the cure would begin and we would have nothing else to worry about.

“Some people are sensitive to certain substances—I’ve known some who could not eat nuts, or who cannot ingest honey. So there is always a chance that someone might react in the same way to the mold. They may develop hives, or become nauseous, or even have convulsions. Although I hope it will not come to that.”

They both looked similarly worried, if not downright alarmed in Elissa’s case, so I assured them that such reactions were very rare, and then hurried away, carrying the last of the mold broth with me, although I had transferred it into a smaller receptacle that I also rinsed with boiling water. No need to lug one of the heavy pans all the way upstairs when I only had half a flagon’s worth left at best.

It seemed I had climbed these stairs too many times already, although now they appeared somewhat different with the wintry morning light coming through the tower’s slit-like windows. Candles still burned in their sconces, however; most likely no one had thought to make the usual rounds this morning to put them out. I stood on my tiptoes and blew out the flames before continuing on my way.

All was silent at the suite when I paused outside the door. Uncertain as to whether this was a good or a bad sign, I raised my hand to knock, and then realized that the door stood slightly ajar. I saw Lord Marten then, sitting in a chair by the fireplace, his head in his hands. He did not look up as I said his name, but through the entry to Larol’s room I heard a faint cough. So perhaps I was not too late after all.

That hope died, however, as I entered the room and beheld the still form of Larol in his bed, covers pulled up to his nose, and the huddled form of his sister next to him. It had been she who was coughing, for even as I moved toward here she began to hack again, her thin frame shaking with each spasm.

“Alcia,” I said softly.
 

She looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. As if unable to utter a word, she only shook her head at me and turned away.

I knew she was angry with me for what she saw as an abandonment of her brother, for not coming up with the miraculous cure everyone had been expecting. And I had no words, nothing to say to soothe the pain she must be feeling. Perhaps I had the cure now, but it had come too late to help Larol, or Lady Yvaine.

“I have some medicine for you,” I told her then. “That is what I have been working on.” Whether my words were an explanation or an excuse, I did not know, but I felt I had to say something. And as she still spoke no words, I added, “And you need to go lie down. Let me tend to your brother.”

“As you did before!” she burst out finally, and then broke into another fit of coughing. “What good are you?”

What good, indeed? Well, I hoped time would tell that tale, but at the moment my only concern was to tend to the girl before she went the way of her brother and her mother. “Alcia, please,” I replied. “Your father does not want to lose you as well.”

That had an effect, as I thought it would. She straightened a little and shot me a glare of pure hatred before she rose, if somewhat unsteadily, and stalked past me out into the receiving chamber, and then on into her own bedroom. Still Lord Marten did not look up to regard what we were doing, and I could not spare him a glance at the moment. Time enough for him, as the only apparently healthy member of the family. At the moment, Alcia was my main concern.

As she had still been wearing her nightdress with a shawl draped over it, she merely flung the shawl into a chair and then climbed into bed. Once she was lying down, she began to cough again, but with her head turned away from me, as if she could not bear to let me see her weakness. Her distress of mind I could do nothing to ease, but merely hope that time might work its healing magic on her. In the meantime, I must tend to her ailing body.

“Can you sit up, just a little?” I asked. “I need you to swallow all of this.”

For a few seconds she did nothing, but then rolled over onto her back and made a show of wriggling up against her pillows so she was in a halfway sitting position. Even this mild exertion caused her to begin hacking and wheezing again, and I waited until the fit passed before I poured a measure of the mold broth into a spoon and held it out to her. It did not have much of an odor, but even so she wrinkled her nose—probably at its less than appetizing appearance. But at least she did not fight me, but opened her mouth and let me administer the medication. She spluttered a little and coughed again, but she managed to keep it down, although she sent me another one of those baleful stares. Perhaps she thought I was trying to poison her.

“Sleep now, and let the medicine do its work,” I told her. “That will be best for you, if you can manage it.”

Although she halfway appeared as if she wished to argue with me, she only nodded and slid down onto her back, then shut her eyes. I doubted she was asleep; more likely she thought that was a good way to dismiss me.

As it was. I had done what I could, and now I must let the medicine do its work and hope, as I had with all the others I had dosed earlier in the hall, that some good would come of it. Nor did I think it would be as simple as that—one dose would help them along the way to health, if what Inyanna had told me was true, but we would need more the next day, to continue with the treatment until the last sign of plague was erased from Donnishold. I would have to set all the able-bodied to work to make more yeast mixtures, and hope for the best.

I went back out to the receiving chamber and looked down on Lord Marten for a long moment. At length he raised his head and said, in the monotone of one who has lost all hope, “I suppose she is gone as well.”

“Not at all,” I said gently. “She is resting, and I have given her some medicine. And I must give you some as well, for though there are no signs of the plague in you, still you have been exposed to it, and I would stop it before it ever gets a chance to start.”

He looked at me with dull eyes, uncomprehending, and my heart was wrung, for I had a flash then of how he had looked on Midwinter Eve, hale and hearty, pleased to see his beloved son engaged to the daughter of Donnishold. As Larol was the middle son, I knew Lord Marten must have another son elsewhere, most likely back at his estate, but I could see he had either forgotten such a thing in his despair, or believed his own household had succumbed to the plague as well. As to that, I could give no reassurances. It could not be expected that the people of his estate understood modern quarantine procedures. And even one such as I who did could still make a mistake, like the one that had proved so fatal to many who lived within Lord Shaine’s walls.
 

But at least he made no protest, not even when I retrieved a fresh spoon from my satchel and gave him a dose as well. I then bade him to rest as well, but he only shook his head and turned to look back at the dying fire. I did not have the strength to force him to his bed, so I quietly said I was going to check on Lord Shaine, but that I would return within the hour to see how Alcia fared. He did not respond, not even with a shrug, but I knew I had done what I could. At least he showed no sign of the plague, and I hoped the medication would do its work to kill whatever traces of the disease might have begun to bloom in his lungs and in his blood.

After that I left, and finally made my way back to the tower that housed Lord Shaine’s rooms—and my room as well, although I guessed it would still be some time before I could avail myself of the rest I so desperately needed. By that point I was putting one foot in front of the other through sheer willpower. I had been in similar sleep-deprived situations once or twice before, and now, as then, it seemed that I floated through a dream world, that everything around me had somehow lost part of its substance, and might disappear like mist in the sun if I stared at it too long.

In that otherworldly state I ascended the stairs and then opened the door to Shaine’s suite. In some detached part of my mind I wondered what I would do if I found him dead, as I had so many of the other souls housed beneath this roof, but I refused to acknowledge such a possibility. He would be alive. The goddess had spoken of love, and I would take her words as acknowledgment that the man I loved would somehow weather this storm along with the rest who still managed to survive.

When I opened the door to the chamber where he lay, I found myself holding my breath—and yet nothing seemed to have changed. Raifal sat wakeful by Lord Shaine’s bedside, his head nodding as if he struggled to stay awake, but the morning light pushing past the heavy curtains showed that Shaine’s color had improved, and I could see the rise and fall of his chest.
 

A flood of relief went through me, so great that I stumbled as I entered the room. At once Raifal looked up, and began to rise to his feet.

“No, stay,” I said. “You have done very well. His lordship looks…well.”

“Yes, mistress. He has slept most of this time, thank Inyanna.”

I must thank her as well. Perhaps it was she who had sent this healing sleep upon Lord Shaine, though I guessed she would deny such a thing if I were ever given the opportunity to ask her. But whatever the reason, it seemed that my desperate surgery had done some good. I had left off dosing him with more willowbark tea, even though his fever had concerned me, for I could not risk thinning his blood so soon after making such an incision. Even without that measure it seemed clear that his fever, if not broken, had lowered itself to safer levels. To reassure myself, I stepped close and laid a hand on his forehead; it was warm, but not hot, and I nodded. And then I lifted my hand at once, even though I would fain have left it there if I could.
 

“I have brought medicine for you and his lordship. Everyone else has already taken theirs, and so I hope there will be no more new cases, and that those who are already ill may have the signs of the sickness lessened. Here.” And I opened the satchel and brought out the flagon that contained the last of the mold mixture.