Every Battle Lord's Nightmare (19 page)

            “Atty, is there anything else you need to bring to our attention?” Renken asked.

            She shook her head. “Nothing I can put a definite finger on. Everyone needs to keep their eyes open. Be aware of anything that appears out of the ordinary. Anything, no matter how small or insignificant you may think it is.”

            “In that case, I’m going to head over to the faire.” The ex-mercenary turned to leave, when Paxton’s comment stopped him.

            “Oh, so you’re just going to blow off the possibility of potential danger to go enjoy yourself?”

            Atty jumped on him for the remark. “Warren! He’s not one of the soldiers. He’s here of his own volition, and what he does in his spare time is his business, not ours.”

            “It’s okay, Atty.” Renken waved away her defense. Turning to the second, he calmly addressed the man’s comment. “I know and understand your concern for the Battle Lord and Lady. I share that same concern. But unlike you and Mastin, because I’m not a soldier, I can roam about the compound without the kind of scrutiny you and the others would draw. The only way to find out if anything’s going on is to mill among the crowds. Listen to what they’re talking about. Stay in the shadows and hope they don’t notice me. Or if they do, hope they think I’m not important enough to silence them.” He turned to where Atty sat next to her husband. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. I just pray it’s before all hell breaks loose.” Without waiting for anyone to respond, the man left the tent. But the flap didn’t lower. Twoson entered, going straight to Thrasher instead of the battle lord and handing the physician a leather satchel. The doctor opened it, removing a sheet of paper first to scan the message.

            “I’m glad to see you all here. I have news.” The portly man was breathing heavily. His eyes were bright as he glanced at Atty. “Four Trees has been decimated by disease.”

            “What?” Almost everyone chorused together.

            “It was a strain of the flu Dr. Jee had never seen before. It started out with a few patients, then spread like a wildfire. Within two weeks, nearly everyone had contracted the disease.” Twoson swallowed hard. “The number of casualties was…enormous. Three-quarters of that community are gone, Yulen.” He looked at Atty. “That smell we caught on our way to Oka City? That was the compound’s funeral pyres burning.”

            Everyone inside the tent was shocked into silence, except for Paas, who murmured a
Dearest Stephen, help us.

           
“Do they know what caused it?” Atty questioned.

            “They’re not certain, but a few months ago a man came to stay for a few weeks. Jee remembers he displayed symptoms of an illness, and he examined him to see if the guy needed any medicine. He didn’t stay long, but by the time he left, there were other cases similar to his. Within a couple more weeks, it was a full-blown epidemic.”

            “It sounds like the man was a carrier,” Paxton commented.

            “Who was man? Where did he go? Where did he come from? How did he contract the disease in the first place?” Atty murmured, almost questioning herself.

            Twoson’s gaze bore into Atty’s. “That last question, I can’t answer. But Jee gave me the guy’s name. It’s Berris Dullay.”

            “Oh, sweet heavens,
no!
” Dread washed through her with icy vengeance, numbing her with visions of what Wallis could be going through. “No! Wallis!”

            “We have to warn Wallis,” Mastin stated, getting to his feet.

            Twoson held up a hand to stop him. “It’s too late, Cole. By the time you send anyone there to let them know, the man may have moved on. The deed is done. I know several people who had already gotten sick before we left. I’m glad now that I personally stayed away from the man, even though he was a fellow councilman. I never trusted him.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “We can only pray that whatever the man is carrying doesn’t wipe out the compound.”

            “Then we have to warn other compounds!” Atty insisted.

            “Wait.” Mastin held up a hand. “Why didn’t we see any signs of this disease in North Crestin?”

            Twoson shrugged his massive shoulders. “Maybe Dullay hasn’t been there yet. Maybe he bypassed it for some reason, or plans to go later. Either way, Four Trees has already sent messengers through the hub to let other Mutah compounds know about the man. If he’s found, he will be made to answer for this crime.”

            “What about Normal compounds? What about Foster City and Alta Novis, not to mention New Bearinger and others?” Batuset demanded.

            “As far as we know, the man is only approaching Mutah compounds.” Twoson let out a ragged sigh. “Call me paranoid, but I think he’s deliberately targeting Mutah.”

            “But the man himself is Mutah!” Atty exclaimed. “Why would he be targeting his own kind? What would coerce him to do such a heinous deed?”

            She felt a hand squeeze her arm. “Not what, Atty. Who.” Yulen coughed weakly as Thrasher knelt next to him.

            “May I throw something else in the pot for us to consider?” Paas spoke out. “That man, Dullay, he was very adamant about not coming here. Do you think he may…” She stopped and shook her head. “Forget it. It’s too far-fetched to consider.”

            “Go ahead, Paas,” Atty urged. “Nothing can be too far-fetched.”

            “Well, I was wondering if he didn’t want to attend because he might have known something about this place. Or about the summit.”

           
“Yulen, drink this.” Thrasher’s no-nonsense tone broke the momentary pall that had descended over the group. The physician held a bowl to the man’s mouth, almost pouring the contents into the battle lord.

            “Fergus, what was that?” Atty asked.

            “A strong antibiotic. As strong as I dared make it. I also mixed in a narcotic to put you under, Yulen.” The man glanced around the tent. “I need you all to leave. I need to intubate him. I have to get out as much of that fluid that’s built up in his lungs as I can.” He lifted his eyes to Atty. “It’s not pretty, Atty. Although I wouldn’t have second thoughts about you staying here with him while I do this, in your condition I don’t want to take any chances of it splashing on you, or making you ill. You’ll have to leave.”

            “Atty.” Paxton stood and tapped her shoulder with his fingertips.

            Atty shook her head. “I need to stay.”

            “No, beloved,” Yulen gasped. “Listen to Fergus. Let him do his job. Don’t stay and make me worry about you, on top of everything else.”

            Paas moved toward the door flap. “I think Renken had the right idea. I’m going to the faire. See what I can dig up. Why don’t you come with me, Atty?”

            “How long is this going to take?” Atty asked the doctor.

            Thrasher shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve done this sort of procedure. And I don’t know how much fluid I’ll need to drain. All I can tell you is that it’s a delicate operation. I can’t rush it. Don’t worry. He’ll feel much better when I’m done, and he’ll be able to recover faster with that crap out of his system. Go take in the faire. I’ll send someone to let you know when I’m done, and you can come back inside.”

            She glanced at Yulen, who gave her a trembling smile. By the glazed look in his eyes, she could tell the medication Thrasher had given him was already taking affect.

            “Go, Atty. Check out the place.” He patted her arm. “I love you.”

            “No more than I love you,” she whispered, fighting back tears.

            She allowed Paxton to help her to her feet, and followed her second outside where Paas was waiting with Twoson and Mastin. Batuset quickly joined them.

            “I’m going to check on my men,” the battle lord told her. “I need to let Dardin know what we’ve learned.” He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before hurrying away.

            Atty turned to her friend. “You go ahead, Paas. Enjoy the faire,” she told the woman. “I’d like to hang around here a while longer. Make sure everything goes okay.”

            Mastin turned to Paas. “I need to check on the men, too. Take care of yourself while you’re roaming about. But if you’re not back in two hours, I’m coming to look for you.”

            “I think I’ll take in the grounds, too,” added Twoson. “I’m curious to know if there are any other Mutah here.”

            “Be careful, Twoson,” Atty bade him. The Mutah councilman gave her a little wave, turned, and walked away. Paas left in the opposite direction, leaving Atty alone with Paxton.

            “Atty, I really think it would be better if we didn’t stay here. He’s well-guarded, and I trust Dr. Gus knows what he’s doing. Yulen will be fine.” He gently patted her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s check out the vendors. If I know you, you’re probably famished.”

            She gave him a wan smile. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m starving. And I need to pee.” They both chuckled at the not-surprising revelation. “Let’s first find the public privies, and then see what the vendors are cooking up. I thought I smelled roasting warthog on our way in, and my mouth has been watering for a taste.”

            She accepted Paxton’s proffered arm and allowed him to lead her away from their campsite, to where the faire was in full swing, but not without one more wistful glance back at the blue and silver tent where her husband lay nearly comatose.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Forbidden

            Paas slowly strolled between the stalls, checking out what each vendor had to offer. She paused near a fruit cart to stare at the small, globular treats for sale, and her hand went to the few gold coins she carried in her pocket. Like her own tribe, the people of Alta Novis often traded goods and services for things they needed. But on those rare occasions when people came to the compound to sell their wares on market days, it was easier to exchange for gold coin. Every battle lord created their own currency from nuggets or jewelry, melted down and reformed into thumbnail-sized squares or circles, which were then embossed with the battle lord’s likeness or symbol to designate where the money originated. D’Jacques paid his soldiers in gold coin, and Mastin had given her a handful to use wherever she saw fit.

            She approached the stall. The vendor noticed her standing there and pasted a smile on his face. “Good day! How may I help you?”

            “How much for the grapes?”

            “A bag for one coin,” the man crisply replied. He held up a sack to show her. Paas pointed to the purple variety.

            “I’d prefer those. Are they seedless?”

            “Of course. Try one for yourself.”

            She picked up a large bundle, plucking one to pop into her mouth. As she’d hoped, it was firm, juicy, and sweet. “I’ll take these,” she said.

            The vendor handed her an empty bag to place her selection in as she gave him a coin. The man stared at the two letters stamped into the little square. “A.N.?”

            “Alta Novis.”

            “Ah!” The man’s smile broadened. He held up a fig. “Care for any of these? They arrived yesterday, freshly picked.”

            “No, thank you.”

            She ambled away, munching on the grapes. It had been a while since she’d enjoyed the treat. At least, not since she’d left her tribe and ventured west to where Mastin, and their love, awaited.

            She parked herself against a small fence railing to observe the people milling about. The faire was noisy, and most of the people there were already deep in their cups. She watched as soldiers with their horns of fermented drink stumbled and swore, and laughed uproariously as they passed by.

            As the sun swung westward, she stared up at the lengthening shadows sliding over the side of the mountain. Whoever designed the living spaces had wisely made them face south. That way the sun never shone directly into the homes, and the mountain itself shielded them from the frigid northerly winds.

            At the thought of wind, a strong, cold gust blew over the grounds. She shivered and drew her coat tighter around her. A movement on the cliff face caught her attention, and she peered at the lone figure climbing down a ladder. By the long brown skirt whipping about the person’s legs, Paas guessed it was a woman. The female paused to overlook the spectacle. For a long minute the figure remained there, watching, almost transfixed by the sight. Another burst of cold air swept over them, and Paas blinked in surprise. What she’d originally thought was the woman’s long hair blowing about her face and shoulders appeared to be something else. Paas squinted. It wasn’t a shawl…or was it?

            A snowflake dropped into her field of vision. Paas reacted, then glanced up to see more of the flakes falling from the gray sky. A glance back at the female figure revealed an empty ledge. Thinking the woman had gone inside her home, Paas turned to continue down the next aisle of vendors, when she noticed the woman had climbed down another ladder and now stood on a ledge overlooking the base of the cliff, near the main lodge.

            For some reason, the sight of the woman fascinated her. Maybe it was because she couldn’t figure out why there appeared to be wings sprouting from the woman’s back. Or maybe it was because the figure’s body language radiated longing or sadness.

            The woman suddenly jerked in surprise as a man strode purposefully toward her. His shouts of anger could be heard over the din of the faire. But instead of facing the man, or fleeing, she dropped to her knees and raised her arms up over her head. Her act of submission did not deter the man, and he began striking her with his hand. Slapping her about the head and face, then kicking her when she bent over as his rage increased.

            Paas ran for the cliff face and searched for a ladder she could use. She finally spotted one on the side of one structure, and she hurried to ascend it.