The Healers' Road

by S E Robertson

  ***

  By mid-morning, her preparations were complete. Keifon had slept fitfully, shivering under their combined blankets, as she bustled in and out of the tent. She had left the water barrel inside, along with a crock of broth ordered from Masa and two of the vials from Keifon’s kit: one to lower fevers, one to calm coughs. She considered waking him up to administer them, but it was best if he was able to sleep. She bundled up in her winter gear and hoisted Keifon’s valise. She assumed that he wouldn’t mind if she borrowed it, under the circumstances.

  They hadn’t come into this town for rounds yesterday, having made camp late in the day. But foot traffic had already trampled a thin track of frozen mud into the road between the campground and the town. This town was large and organized enough to have its own cobbled square in the center. Facing the square were several houses, better-appointed than most that she’d passed on the way in; a meeting house; and an Eytran church, if she interpreted the snow-drifted statues correctly. Agna approached the church and knocked on its door. A hooded priest answered, peering into the cold wind, and directed her to the local herbalist’s house.

  The herbalist was younger than she’d expected, a man not much older than herself. He seemed grateful for the help, and jotted down some directions along the town’s few streets. Agna followed the list, remembering the herbalist’s name to weave into her introduction – Hello, I’m the new Benevolent Union healer from the caravan. Rasil the herbalist sent me. How are you feeling today? She tried to keep her voice bright. She checked on a pregnant woman near delivery. She checked on a few villagers with the same fever that Keifon had, most of whom were being watched over by relatives. Agna returned to the herbalist’s house, pulling her scarf over her face as she waited on his stoop.

  He returned not long after, trudging through the snow. “Hey there, healer. Any trouble today? How were they?”

  Agna reported as the herbalist led her inside. “All as could be expected. No delivery yet, the fevers at three or four days seem to be breaking, the earlier ones are getting worse.” She bit her lip, wanting to tell him about Keifon’s sickness, wanting reassurance.

  “Ah yes. Four days is what I’ve seen so far.” He unstrapped the case of supplies on his back. “I’ve seen a few more with the same fever, today. It’s been spreading from the north, as far as anyone can tell. With any luck it will be past this area soon.”

  “I hope it will be,” Agna replied. “So... have you found any way to treat it?”

  “Ah, no. Not really. Time, rest, all of the usual. Treating the cough if it makes them more comfortable. Oh yes, if you’re with the caravan you’ll see more of it, I’m sure.”

  “Yes, that’s true...” Agna waved off his offer of tea. “Thank you, but I should be getting back.” She took a deep breath. “The other Benevolent Union healer, traveling with me. He has the fever, too. I’m... worried about him.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. I’d wondered, since they always send two people. Will you be here for another day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then don’t worry about us tomorrow. Take care of your partner.”

  Agna blushed under her scarf, but couldn’t protest his choice of words. “All right. Thank you. I should be going now.”

  “Well, godspeed then, and good luck.”

  “Thank you. And same to you. Good luck to your town and your people. We’ll see you next year.”

  “Hope so.” He opened the door for her, and Agna stepped out into the wintry dark. She followed the frozen track one step at a time. Passing by the last of the houses, she realized that she’d said we’ll see you next year. Agna hurried her steps up the hill and back down. It was a polite thing to say, no more. Her replacement would return here next year, no doubt. She didn’t have time to think about this. She had to get back and make dinner and tend to Keifon. If the fever held on for four days, they would have to break camp, travel and begin their next camp while he was ill. She would need to hire help.

  Agna dragged herself back to the camp and gratefully collapsed to the tent floor. Keifon woke as she came in, pushing himself up on one elbow. He was flushed, and when she stripped off one mitten to feel his forehead, his temperature was still high. “Did you get some rest, at least?”

  He shifted away from her touch, avoiding her eyes. “Mmhm. Most of the day. I’m sorry. I’m just...I’m tired.”

  “No need to apologize. We know about being sick. Don’t we?”

  That got a weak smile out of him. “Yeah. Um... can I ask you a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m kind of dizzy. Probably need to eat something. The broth was good, but...could I have some more?”

  “Oh! Right.” She had forgotten about making dinner for herself, too. At least she hadn’t taken her boots off. “I’ll go get more from Masa.”

  “I’ll pay.” He sat up, reaching for his pack, and Agna stopped him with an arm across the chest.

  “Oh no, you don’t. Back.”

  He settled down, sighing. Agna fished her own money bag out of her trunk and picked up the empty crock. It had been a long day. It would be nice to buy dinner for herself, as well, and not have to cook. She could afford a day’s indulgence. She set off through the trampled snow to Masa’s wagon.

  When she got back, Keifon was awake and coughing weakly. Agna passed the crock to him. Keifon huddled under his blankets to sip the soup that she had bought. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

  “You can’t help it.” Agna lit the brazier. Now that she was here to keep an eye on it, they could heat the tent safely. That would do him some good, too. She settled in with her own dinner: Masa’s roasted root vegetable casserole. “I saw a few patients with this fever, too. The herbalist in this village said it’s been around.”

  “Don’t get sick yourself.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “But... please rest tomorrow. At least part of the day.” Keifon pulled one of the blankets up around his shoulders. “I’d... I’d like the help, too. If you don’t mind. It was hard... moving around and things.”

  “You were supposed to rest.”

  “I know, but – you know, getting up to drink, and everything. I was so dizzy it was hard to even sit up. I–” He broke into coughing, and set down his soup. “Look, I don’t want to impose on you. But I can’t...”

  “All right, all right,” Agna broke in, sparing him from cataloguing all of his hardships. “The herbalist in town said it was all right if I didn’t come back tomorrow, anyway. I’ll stay. All right?”

  “Yeah. ...Thank you.” Keifon sipped the soup, and the two of them finished dinner in silence. There was no question of playing cards tonight. Keifon huddled on his bedroll, drowsing. Agna gathered their dishes and returned to the cold to wash them, then took her kit to the privy and the baths to clean up and change for the night. She returned, shivering, in her pajamas and boots and coat. “Do you need anything else, before we’re done for tonight?”

  “Um. I think I’m going to skip a bath today. If you don’t mind. I don’t think I can manage it.” The shame in his voice twisted in Agna’s stomach.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “All right. Just... just a minute, then.” He got to his feet unsteadily and slipped his cloak and boots on. She almost stopped him before she realized that he was headed to the privy. He would rather freeze than have her escort him, even part of the way.

  She warmed her hands against the brazier’s heat while she waited. It was strange. He was nakedly concerned about her overworking herself or getting sick. But he didn’t seem to want to ask for help, even though both of them were adept at treating medical situations. She supposed that she wouldn’t want to ask, either. When the bandits had – when she’d twisted her shoulder, it had been irksome to have anyone help her. It seemed as though things should be different now.

  Agna helped Keifon out of his cloak when he returned, although he turned away when she moved to help him pull off his boots. He c
urled up on his bedroll and muffled his coughing in his pillow. Agna had unrolled her own bedroll while he was gone, and spread her coat over it in lieu of the blankets she had lent to him. It would be cold, but she wouldn’t freeze.

  Keifon focused on her bedroll as she fastened the tent flaps and doused the brazier. “Wait, no. Don’t...” He began to pull one of the blankets from his pile.

  “I’m fine. You need it more than I do.”

  “Don’t do this. I can’t – I can’t argue with you. Just don’t.”

  Agna folded her arms, half a show of determination, half an attempt to keep her hands warm. “I’m fine.”

  He growled under his breath and braced himself against the ground. “Don’t argue with me about this,” he said again. “Please don’t.” He wiped his eyes, and Agna realized with horror how upset he was.

  “Hey – hey. It’s all right.” She helped him lie down and tucked the blankets around him. Keifon laid one arm across his eyes. “Look, I just want you to get better.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t – I’m tired, and I know I’m not making sense,” he whispered thickly. “Just please. Take care of yourself.”

  “I am. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not going without blankets in the middle of winter! I won’t let you do that.”

  Agna sighed. It was upsetting him this much; she could compromise. “All right. Give me my thick one, but keep the spring one. Is that enough?”

  Keifon pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking, and then nodded. “But if you get cold, you need to take another one, or light the burner, or something. Promise me.”

  His fixation on her welfare kindled a wobbling uneasiness in her middle. She could handle the sickness; she could assess symptoms, administer medicines, and advise him to take fluids and sleep more. But she wasn’t prepared for his insistence on protecting her, or the half-incoherent vulnerability of his exhaustion.

  She clenched her hands in her lap. “I promise. I won’t get too cold.”

  Keifon peeled off the topmost blanket and held it out to her. She scooted across the tent to accept it. A memory rose in her mind, garbled with old fever dreams. When she was small, her parents had banished Lina to a guest room when Agna was sick – how Lina had wailed! And when Agna had woken up in the night, needing water or air or reassurance that she wasn’t being chased by some nightmare beast, someone was there. Her mother, or her father, or Tane the housekeeper – someone was there, and had made it better.

  A little dizziness spun her off balance as she gathered the blanket and pulled her bedroll across the tent.

  “What are you…” Keifon’s eyes were shadowed and panicked in the lamplight.

  “Taking care of you. Shh.” Agna arranged her bedroll an arm’s length away, with the blanket and coat laid out on top. She crawled in under them and blew out the lamp.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I know.” She propped herself on one elbow to feel his forehead, and her fingers shook just a little. “Just sleep. It’ll be all right.”

  He murmured sleepily. “I’m sorry I’m so – I just –”

  “Shh. It’s all right. You’re not feeling well, that’s all. Sleep.”

  “Mmn.” Keifon curled up on his side. “Thank you.” They lapsed into silence. She listened to his breath, close and feather-light and deeply human, and eventually she slept.

  ***

  He woke four or five times in the night, muttering in Yanweian, too exhausted or delirious to translate. Once he clung to her hand and called her a name she didn’t recognize – Maya? – couched in words she didn’t understand. Once, from the husk-dry tone of his voice, she figured out that he needed water and held the cup for him. But most of the time, as soon as she murmured some incoherent reassurance or reached out to lay her cautious hand on his arm, he would sigh and relax into calmer dreams. For a while she would lie awake. But something always lulled her back to sleep. It reminded her of being little, of sleeping curled up with Lina during a thunderstorm, with the furry bulk of the housekeeper’s dog lying across the doorway.

  She woke free of the fever, but Keifon’s cough racked him as soon as he woke. He was still in no shape to go out. Agna rubbed the sleep from her eyes and plotted her plan for the day. She could handle this. But the previous night had shaken her, though she would never admit it to Keifon. When she dealt with patients, she put their bodies in order and sent them on their way. She didn’t know how to stay there and be needed continually.

  It didn’t matter; there were things that needed to be done. She checked that the barrel of drinking water wasn’t empty yet, gathered her things, headed out to get dressed, lit the campfire and swept the new snow from their little yard. She could catch up on some sleep herself, do some reading, or write some letters. There wasn’t much to draw at this time of year, but she might have a chance to sketch a leafless tree or practice her shading.

  They were low on food; they’d planned it that way, buying a little at a time. Agna put together an omelet with onions and cheese for herself and considered what was left as it cooked.

  She poked her head into the tent. Keifon squinted against the light, so Agna let the tent flap close behind her. “Hey. Do you think you could handle something solid today? We have some oats and barley. I can cook it down into porridge. Would that be all right?” He laid a hand on his stomach, considered, nodded. Agna rubbed her hands together. “Coming right up.”

  He wanted water more than anything, and drank a few cups before taking the bowl. But it seemed to fortify him, and by the time they had finished with breakfast, he seemed a little steadier. She insisted that he take some of the medicine for coughs, and he acquiesced, swallowing the thick syrup with more water.

  “I’m sorry about last night.”

  “Hm?” Agna turned at the doorway, hands full of dishes. “...Oh. No, nothing to apologize for. You don’t feel well, and your mind gets strange when you’re feverish.” She paused, remembering one of the fragments. She shouldn’t bring it up at all, but her curiosity won out. “Though – what does Maya mean?”

  Keifon froze. “What— was I – talking in my sleep?”

  “A little.”

  “Oh… I, uh… Mya was a childhood friend of mine.”

  “I see.” Agna wished she wouldn’t blush. “That’s kind of sweet.”

  “Did I say anything else?”

  “It was all in Yanweian,” she shrugged. “I’m sure it was nothing.”

  “Hm.”

  She hurried out before he could say any more. When she returned, he didn’t resume the conversation, and so she left well enough alone. She lit the brazier and the lamp, positioning her trunk to block the direct light from Keifon’s eyes, then sat cross-legged on the tent floor to write her letters. Keifon slept, and after a while his coughing fits seemed less frequent.

  She mentioned none of this in her letters, at first. There was no need to worry her family and friends, making them think that she might fall ill herself. She told Rone about the western farmland, wondering whether he’d had a chance to see it during another season. She told Lina about the herbalists in the villages.

  She told Laris very little, responding to his last letter, and offering nothing about her own situation. She wrote about how she missed him, trying to be upbeat and affectionate rather than desperate and clinging. She wasn’t sure where the line lay, and started over from the beginning when she had written half a page. It was safe enough to say I wish you were here. She could not deny the truth of that.

  She wrote to Esirel about the bitter winter weather in Kavera, about the snow, about peering into the country homes and helping however she could. Eventually she wrote that Keifon had fallen ill, and that she was taking care of him. It’s strange, she wrote, and had to stop there. She wrote about the book she’d been reading, instead.

  Agna carried the letters to the master of records’ wagon. No letters had come in for her. She stopped by a few of the other wagons and tents to buy ingredients f
or dinner, just enough for tonight and tomorrow morning. She bought bread from Masa, because they could at least eat that on the road, by itself or with some of the cheese she bought from Menon the goatherd. It seemed like a reasonable plan. They would be on the road tomorrow and through the next day, and would reach the next camp the following day if the roads were in good enough condition. By then, Keifon would be nearly recovered. She hoped she could keep him warm enough on the wagon. – One thing at a time.

  Lugging her goods in a bag over her shoulder, she stopped by the guards’ headquarters and explained her situation. The guard captain listened, nodding gravely, and collared a young guardsman on break inside. Agna thanked them and insisted that they take some extra money. For the first time that day, she felt almost accomplished.

  A cloudy dusk had begun to fall when she returned to the camp. She checked on her charge one more time – still asleep – and swept the campsite before lighting the fire. She fed it the rest of their firewood and set about making a simple dinner for the two of them: the last of their grains cooked into a porridge for Keifon, and toasted bread layered with cheese and winter greens for herself. The greens had been expensive, but she had to try to eat healthy things, to stay well through the winter. She would insist that Keifon do the same, as soon as he had recovered enough to eat properly. She brought the food inside when it was ready.

  She set Keifon’s bowl by his bedroll and touched his arm. “Hey. Dinner.” He woke with a start, rubbing his eyes. Agna searched his face for signs of improvement, but he just looked tired and disoriented. “How are you feeling?” In reply, Keifon made a gesture she recognized as so-so. Agna laid a hand on his forehead. “About the same, I think.” His skin was hot and dry; the fever hadn’t broken.