All Fall Down Page 24

  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.

  He approached the bed. “Auren.” His voice was low, seeming to shake the room, but rich as wild honey.

  And then Auren’s eyes opened, and she smiled and sat up in her bed. “Is it you?” she asked.

  “It is. Are you ready?”

  She nodded, and smiled, and flung the thick waves of her hair back off her shoulders as she stood. “I had hoped you would come.”

  “I always do.”

  He held out his hand, and she took it, trust and happiness shining out so clearly from her dark eyes. Then they moved away, and it was as if they slowly disappeared, growing fainter and fainter until they were gone completely.

  “You see?” Inyanna asked.

  Confusion sharpened my tone. “I confess I do not.”

  She sighed then, and for the first time I heard a touch of steel in her voice. “Come, Merys, even a skeptic such as yourself surely must have recognized what just transpired. You saw my Lord Thrane come to escort the young woman to the next place.”

  “The next place?”

  “Don’t be dull. You know very well that of which I speak. You may call it heaven, I suppose. As I said, we concern ourselves with what comes next, and not the struggles of the world in which you are so engaged.”

  “That does not change the fact that a young woman—girl, really—who should have had her whole life ahead of her had it taken away, all by the caprice of a terrible disease.”

  I had thought my words might anger the goddess—if that was really who she was—but Inyanna only laughed then. “Is it so difficult for you to understand? Death is not hard for those who die. A few moments of pain, perhaps, but then it is all done, and they can move on. No, death is difficult only for those who are left behind.”

  “And what of us? The ones left behind, that is. So our pain means nothing?”

  “It may mean something to you, but it is transitory. What you mourn is the loss of what you had, not the person who is gone. Because that person is not gone, as I have just shown you. They have merely moved to a place where such things can no longer touch them.”

  If she had meant to reassure me, she had done quite the opposite. For even if I were to believe that she truly was the goddess, and that truly was Lord Thrane who had escorted Auren from this world to the next, still I and everyone who had known Auren would feel her absence each and every day we were alive. And if death truly were so simple, what did that say about my profession, and the work of all those who had gone before me and who were yet to come? Did we toil in futility, our efforts wasted because we lengthened lives that would have done better to end sooner, so that they might go on to this “next place” of which Inyanna had spoken?

  I said as much, and she laughed again and shook her head. “You misunderstand me,” she replied. “I did not say that you should not fight these things, because they are terrible and bring suffering even when they do not bring death. I only meant to tell you mourning those who are gone is an effort that should be spent otherwise, for sadness is misplaced when its object is bettered by that change. We do not seek to interfere, but rather to guide and inspire. And that is why I am here.”

  “Indeed? For I am not sensing much inspiration at the moment.”

  Another of those tinkling laughs. “This is why I have laid my hand upon you, Merys Thranion. For we gods have no need of worship, whatever your priests may say. But we do appreciate determination, and skill, and in those gifts you are doubly blessed. Have you never wondered how it is you can go amongst those suffering from disease, and yet never fall ill yourself? It was my protection, my doing, though you believed in me not. And I have tried to guide you in this, although you dismissed my suggestions as the vagaries of dreams, of troubled thoughts that had no meaning.”

  “Suggestions?” I repeated. Truly, her words had given me one of the answers I had sought in this life, even though I was not sure I liked knowing it had been the doing of a goddess I didn’t even believe in that I had survived this long.

  “The key to survival lies in your hands, Merys. It is sometimes from the simplest things, the most mean and lowly, that salvation comes. The gods did not bring this plague upon you—it was an unhappy accident of circumstances. The source of the disease lies many leagues hence, in the hot deserts of Keshiaar. When the conditions are right—or wrong, as some may see it—the carriers come forth, and spread the illness with them. So it came from the south into Purth, and from Purth thence to Seldd. And you, Merys Thranion, unwittingly brought it with you to Donnishold.”

  “I!” I cried. “How is that possible, when I took every precaution?”

  “Your masters are wise, and much of your teachings are helpful, but you still do not fully understand how such things can come to pass.” She spread open her graceful hands; on the palm of one of them I thought I saw the smallest speck of black, perhaps a flea or other small insect, before she closed them once again. “It came with you, riding along on the horses you brought from Lord Arnad’s estate. You could not have known, of course.”

  Her tone was light, as if what she said was not of much import, but inwardly I reeled, thinking of how I had unwittingly brought so much death and destruction down upon the people I cared about. It was easy enough for a goddess to say that death was easy. I had not enough detachment to think such things for myself. And while I could not change what had already occurred, I knew I must do whatever I could to make sure no more deaths could be laid at my feet.

  Willing my voice to remain calm, I said, “You told me that the key to survival lies in my hands. What meant you by that
?”

  “You must see beyond what you have been taught, Merys Thranion of Lystare.” To my surprise, she stepped forward and took me by the hand. “See now, what you have overlooked.”

  And there I beheld the kitchen garden from my dreams, and the midden heap which sat in one corner of that garden, where the compost could be used for the crops. In winter, it did not crawl with flies as it might in the summer, and the pile was somewhat sparse—no strange thing, considering how haphazard meals had become of late. But beyond the dusting of snow I saw something pale gleaming against the dark heap. The end of a loaf of bread, now mottled with mold and far beyond its use. Merime would never have let such a thing come to pass when she ruled the kitchens, but she was far past such concerns now.

  Somehow that discarded chunk of bread made its way to Inyanna’s outstretched palm. “As I said, sometimes it is the mean and lowly things which can bring our salvation. Something smaller than you can see has laid you low, but here is the key to fighting it, now and forever.” She took the moldy loaf and placed it in my hands. “You know something of this, Merys. We have seen how the members of your Order have defeated the pox, which once laid waste to as many as the plague. You have seen how to make the cure for that disease. Within this castoff loaf is the means to defeat the plague just as surely. Remember all you have been taught.”

  For a long moment I only stood there, staring down at the bread, at the patches of green and blue that had spread across its surface. And then it was as if something in my mind shifted, and I recalled my days in the workrooms of the Order, carefully preparing the milder form of pox as an inoculation against the more severe smallpox. I thought also of the needle going into tender flesh, and all the lives we had saved.

  I raised my head and met her eyes, blue as a mountain lake. Again her mouth lifted in a smile, and for the first time I saw something unearthly in it, a mixture of compassion and detachment that could have its place on no visage other than that of a god.

  “You begin to understand,” she said. “I will not say that the road ahead of you is an easy one, but it has its end. And you have suffered, and lost, and yet I tell you that in the end you will be richer for it. Because while we do not meddle, we do observe, and if there is anything we can learn from the people of this world, it is that their capacity for love exceeds all else. Believe in that love, and let it guide you.”

  And then it was if I began to fall, and yet that descent was a gentle one, almost as if unseen hands guided me from that lofty peak down to the place where my body had waited all that time. For a second all was darkness, and then I opened my eyes, and I saw I still sat on the floor beside Lord Shaine’s bed. The first rays of the sun caught in the window in the far wall, and showed something pale against the age-darkened oak floor. I stared at it for a long moment, and then, somehow, I began to laugh.

  It was a hunk of moldy bread.

  Chapter 17

  My laughter was abruptly stilled, however, as I got to my feet and gazed down at the limp form of Lord Shaine, and thought of his daughter lying dead only a floor above us. Almost as if that thought had been a signal, I heard the sound of Elissa’s cry. My eyes burned with unshed tears at hearing that keen of distress once again, but I turned toward the doorway, bracing myself for that which was to come next.

  The girl burst into the room. “Oh, mistress—it’s—it’s—”

  “I know,” I said calmly.

  My words halted her, as she came to an abrupt stop a few paces away and stared at me as if I had gone mad. “You know, mistress?”

  “I do,” I replied. Somehow I knew that the best way to address her was simply, in words she would understand. “The goddess came to me—in a dream. She showed me all—and showed me what I must do next.”

  “She showed you?” Elissa’s dark eyes widened in wonder and fear, but I saw no disbelief in her face. These people lived closer to the gods than I; perhaps they had had the right of it all along.

  “Yes. And I would ask that you say nothing else in—in here,” I finished lamely, with a quick glance over my shoulder at Lord Shaine as he lay half-comatose in his bed.

  But she seemed to understand at once, for she nodded gravely. No doubt she thought it was the province of the physician to relay all such bad news, along with measuring out the proper doses of medicine and setting broken bones. And it was something I would have to do, but not now. Shaine was too weak, too caught in the illness, to be burdened with the news of the death of his only beloved child. How I would ever have the courage to tell him such a thing, I did not know, but that evil could be saved for a later date when he was better equipped to handle it.

  In the meantime, there was much else that must be attended to, not the least of which was lancing the plague boil. He could not remain as he was. In my absence he had pushed away the covers, and the sweat beaded on his forehead. At least he was not coughing his way down to death as so many others in the castle had done and might be doing at this very moment, but time was still of the essence.

  “I need two things of you, Elissa,” I said, and at once she stood up a little straighter, even though I saw her worried gaze stray to where her lord lay sprawled on his bed.

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Perhaps she, too, was a gift from Inyanna, this slight, frail girl who yet lived and did as I bade her without question. I could not ask now, and I supposed it did not matter one way or the other. One should accept such gifts without questioning where they came from.

  “Send up one of the male slaves—Raifal, if he is yet well, or one of the others if…he is not.”

  She nodded again, and bit her lip. I wondered then if something had begun to grow between the two of them, as I thought I had noted a special closeness on Midwinter’s Eve. That was a type of healing I did not practice, and did not fully understand, and yet it was as powerful—and as important—as the medicines and surgical implements I wielded.

  “Once you have sent Raifal to me, I need you to go to the kitchens. Inspect all the bread, and set the moldy loaves aside.”

  “To send to the midden, mistress?” From her tone it was clear she thought this a foolish task, when all else in the castle was awry.

  “No. Keep it for me—and go search in the midden as well, in case any has been thrown out there that might be of use. You may start with this one.” And I handed her the partial loaf from my dream, which had not been a dream at all.

  Gingerly she took it from me, her eyes still wide with questions. But she had seen me right too many times before to say anything, although I saw her give it a dubious glance before she transferred it to her apron pocket, where it made an incongruous bulge. “As you wish, mistress.”

  Then she was gone, running down the stairs, leaving me behind with the feverish master of the castle.

  Once again I went to the fire and built it up, and once again I swung the trivet and its kettle over the flames to boil the water I would need. Only this time I would not be brewing tea, but setting my instruments in boiling liquid—the thin sharp knife to cut the flesh, and the forceps to hold the wound open while I washed the pestilence from within. I could only hope that Lord Shaine had the strength still within him to withstand such an operation.

  I went to the chair that had been placed up against one wall and dragged it over to his bedside. He still writhed with fever, but withal his face was still the one I loved, although black hollows smudged the skin beneath his eyes, and a sheen of sweat covered all visible skin.

  “You will live,” I told him then. “You will live, because you must. If all else should perish and fail, yet I would have strength if I had you next to me. We will survive this, and our strength will lend itself to those others who have need of it. You will live, because I love you more than my heart can bear.” And I leaned down and pressed my lips against his fevered brow, not caring for the disease that might come forth with his every exhalation. For had not Inyanna told me that her hand was upon me, and such things could not touch me?

&n
bsp; I heard then a half cough from the doorway, and I straightened, only to see Raifal paused there. In the chancy light of the rising sun it was difficult to tell for sure, but I thought I saw a flush spread over his face that had very little to do with fever and plague. Well, if he had seen, I could think of no one better to keep my secrets, and I knew in the end it mattered little. If all went as I hoped, then perhaps one day soon I would be able to confess the truth of my heart to Lord Shaine, and he would reveal the truth of his as well.

  “Are you well?” I asked, my tone a trifle sharp. For while I could tell myself it mattered little whether Raifal had just witnessed what had passed, still it was uncomfortable to know that such a moment of vulnerability might have been witnessed by another.

  He straightened. “Quite well, mistress. Dran and I have a bet going, to see which one of us holds out against the plague the longest.”

  I almost laughed then, simply from amusement that they should bet over such a thing, and also that Raifal should have recovered himself so much that he could make light of such matters. “Well, then, as long as both of you are resolved to win, then neither of you should fear catching ill. But come, for I will need you to assist me.”

  At my words he inched a little closer, but I could tell he was reluctant to approach his lord’s bed. “What is it you would have me do?”

  Most of the other slaves would not have had the courage to ask me such a question, but Raifal knew me, knew my mettle, and so he knew I would not take him to task for such impertinence. Besides, I thought it only fair that he should know what lay ahead of him.

  “Your master is lucky in that he has the bubonic form of the disease,” I said calmly, as I rose from the chair and went to retrieve my now sterilized instruments and lay them out on a piece of clean linen. “But even so, the sickness has concentrated itself in a boil in his groin, and I must lance it to release the sickness from his body. Once I have done that, he has a much greater chance of recovery.”

  Raifal gulped and appeared a little green at my reply, but he said nothing, only cocking his head to one side as he waited for me to continue.