"I'm supposed to be the alpha, you know," Gerry teased, and he was glad to hear the little snort from Ghost.
"And I'm a witch. We take care of people too. And for the most part, we're not supposed to place people in danger." Ghost's voice had steadied. "I guess we're two of a kind, aren't we? I don't think we should let the godsman know."
It was a weak joke, but Gerry was grateful for the feeble humor. He did his best to keep his own voice light. "Oh, I don't know. We could start a whole new custom." He smirked when Ghost gave him a quizzical glance. "Mother says most witches are alphas, when you come down to it."
Ghost snorted. "Between what Mother says and what the Witch used to say, we don't even have to think. Our former alphas are thinking for us." Ghost tilted his head for a kiss. "Let's sleep a bit. I have to go to the village, but I can sleep a while longer."
"Aren't you going to tell me how the vision went? Did you find the Witch?" Gerry let Ghost wriggle free and settle down among the pillows. He pulled the quilt up over them both as he lay down beside Ghost.
Ghost frowned a bit and shook his head. "I Saw her, but nothing was clear. If I'm right, she's in the Northlands. I'm on my own. I can't wait for her to get here." Ghost turned on his side and burrowed closer to Gerry. "I have to believe I'll find a solution. I can't talk myself into failing. So, I'm going to sleep and go to the village in the morning and figure this out." He closed his eyes, a clear signal he desired to end the discussion.
Gerry smiled at the return of his fierce witch. "Sounds like a good plan." He nuzzled Ghost's hair and hummed a mellow tune until Ghost's breathing evened out.
Chapter 7
The mysterious contagion was ravaging the village. Ghost ran a hand through his hair, his fingers catching in a tangle, and he pulled them free with a weary sigh. In a mere quarter-moon, one street had become more than a hand of streets, with no pattern Ghost could discern. Five more patients had died. If the deceased had no family, the guards who worked the warehouses took the bodies for burial. Ghost knew they would not be the last.
Ghost stretched to ease the tightness in his back as he walked home from the last house needing help on this street. High sun was well past. All Ghost could do was offer the infusion of herbs to ease the purging and lower the fever. In the worst cases, where the patient had begun to hemorrhage, the Seeker's kiss brought some relief from the aches from prolonged vomiting. But with a growing number of sick villagers, Ghost needed to conserve the relic to ensure it lasted the day before needing to be fed.
Ghost stumbled over a loose stone in front of a small house, and as he caught himself, he heard a feeble cry. He stared for a moment at the door, unable to recall if he had ever visited this house. Set back as the building was from the street, the house was nearly hidden from view. Another cry galvanized him, and he hurried inside.
He found an old man in the kitchen. How he had not fallen was beyond Ghost's comprehension. Dried blood covered the front of his tunic and fresh trails of crimson spattered his beard. The man clutched a wet cloth.
"She wants me to help her wash," the man said, his voice weak and ragged.
Ghost took the cloth and placed his arm around the man's waist. "Show me. I'll help you." He let the man guide him into the small bedroom.
A woman huddled in the bed, so still Ghost feared she had already died. Her eyes opened, and Ghost could see the blood in them where small vessels had ruptured from the force of her vomiting. She lacked strength enough to turn her head, but her eyes softened when she looked at the old man.
"She got sick. I did what I could, until I got sick too." The old man shrugged off Ghost's arm and sat on the bed. "We both know there's no hope. I just don't want to leave her alone."
Ghost swallowed hard and looked for words. "I'm a healer, but when I can't heal... When you feel his approach, I can ease the way. I have a tincture, the Seeker's rest, which will bring a painless death. You'll fall asleep. I can offer the tincture, but you have to choose to accept its respite."
"Will we die together?" The old man took the woman's fragile hand, stroking the wrinkled skin as he watched Ghost.
"Yes." Ghost waited while the old man turned to the woman.
"What do you say, sweetheart? One last walk together?" The man's smile was gentle. The woman's fingers twitched, and the man turned back to Ghost. "Please. Help us die. We're ready. We're not afraid."
"Come then." Ghost helped the man settle next to the woman, her eyes never leaving the man. He left them long enough to get two cups of water, adding three drops of the tincture to each cup. As weak as they were, he didn't need more. "This is a little bitter, but you won't hurt any longer. I promise you, on my vows as a witch. You'll have a peaceful death."
The man took one cup, and Ghost helped the woman to drink from the other. She grimaced, but she swallowed all of the tincture, her hand still resting in the old man's hand. She closed her eyes and sighed. The man let Ghost take his empty cup, and Ghost saw the lines of pain soften before the man closed his eyes.
Ghost waited, watching as their breathing slowed and finally stopped. He used the wet cloth to clean them both as best as he could, rinsing the cloth in a bucket of cool water. He scrubbed his hands and left the house, stopping to ask a guard to take the couple for burial before he continued on his way home. His eyes burned with exhaustion and tears. Each death was a blow, and he wondered if he would ever get used to watching a patient die, or if he would always feel so bereaved.
Ghost had left clean clothing and a towel in the wash house. When he reached the yard, he made straight for the back. He tossed a couple of knots of hardwood on the fire beside the deep copper tub, watching the steam rise from the water.
A persistent tightness burrowed between Ghost's shoulder blades, and his eyes felt gritty. He scrubbed, rinsed off, and scrubbed a second time. Only then did he dry himself and dress. He was stiff, and the tightness between his shoulders had not eased, but he could almost be sure he would not carry the illness into his home. He stopped at the drying shed and left his Seeker's kiss to be fed by the witchglass. He rummaged among the bundles for more of the herbs he needed.
Gerry was not home, and Ghost remembered that Gerry had planned to investigate a possible sind lair too close to a farm. He went to his formulary cabinet and pulled out the scrying mirror, unwrapping the smooth piece of metal in the hopes he would be contacted. While he waited, there were herbs to blend.
The rote work left Ghost free to think about the Seeing he had forced. Ghost had Seen stones carved with witchmarks in a landscape filled with swirling white and gleaming ice. He had Seen the Witch in the snow as well, in a cloak made of pure white fur. He found it impossible not to conclude the Witch was in the Northlands, but why? Ghost couldn't fathom what she would want to find.
A sharp tug on his spiral turned Ghost's attention to the mirror, and he had to look twice at the symbol forming in the white swirl. A ruby triskele filled the mirror, and the familiar dry voice of the Witch echoed in his mind.
"Ah, there you are, little one. Has it started?" The Witch sounded impatient, and Ghost took a sharp breath.
"Has what started?" he asked. He willed the image in the mirror to clear, but the swirl of white didn't resolve into anything meaningful.
The Witch's mental snort was like having her there beside Ghost. "The epidemic. Has the epidemic started?"
"The sisterhood reached you, then. Did Zereda find you? She was the first I spoke to." Ghost frowned at the mirror. "Kerree says this isn't natural."
"Kerree's no fool. I don't have a lot of time, little one. Listen to me carefully." The Witch's voice dropped, as if she was afraid even this magical link would be overheard. "The problem started in the South, but the answer is here in the Northlands."
"I'd have guessed the West Reaches with Sri and her ilk, but I don't like Sri, so I'm inclined to blame her," Ghost said, his voice just as soft. Whatever had the Witch apprehensive made Ghost wary as well.
Ghost heard the snor
t again. "I tell him to listen and so he talks. While I'm glad you've finally found your tongue, this is not the time. I may have the solution, but the trick is going to be getting out of here. I'm going to try--"
The Witch's mental voice broke off abruptly, and Ghost's mirror cleared as though the other mirror had been covered in haste. He winced with the sudden withdrawal, and his spiral felt hot and itchy.
***
Ghost left his mirror uncovered as he walked over to the hearth and moved the kettle closer to the heat. The front door was propped open, and as Ghost looked up, he saw Gerry coming down the path.
"You look exhausted," Gerry said as Ghost opened the door the rest of the way for him.
"I'm fine," Ghost replied. "I'm making an infusion for my head ache. The plague is spreading rapidly, and I have far too many new cases. At least three hands' worth who have me worried."
Ghost sighed as Gerry wrapped his arms around Ghost and kissed his forehead.
"Go sit down. I'll make tea. You have a head ache because you didn't eat." Gerry reached for the tea pot. "Cut some bread for us both. Do you want the nut butter?"
Ghost blinked at Gerry. "I don't really have time to eat. I need to see the elders to ask for an empty warehouse to isolate the infected. I also need to get in touch with one of the witchsisters."
"And this is exactly why you need to stop and eat." Gerry set the nut butter on the table. "I'll go with you to see the elders. I can add my voice as your alpha. Not as though you need me, since you're speaking as our witch. But you won't be able to help anyone if you let yourself get exhausted and run down."
Ghost's stomach grumbled. "All right, maybe a piece of bread," he conceded. "I heard from the Witch too. She was sort of cryptic."
"Where is she? Did she say?" Gerry poured tea for them both.
Ghost added a small bit of honey to his tea. He took a slice of the bread and smeared some nut butter over it, licking a stray bit from his finger.
"She's in the Northlands. She asked if the epidemic had started yet," Ghost said. "She said something about maybe having a solution, but she cut off contact without warning. I'm hoping she contacts me again, or one of the other witches does. I can't lose any more patients, even though I know I will."
Gerry winced, reaching out to take Ghost's hand. "You lost people today? I'm sorry, Ghost."
"Seven so far. And another three who probably won't make the next quarter-moon." Ghost sighed and rubbed his eyes. "The worst part? The old and the very young are the most vulnerable. Everyone else seems to recover without too much trouble. But the ones who need me the most are dying, and I hate being so impotent."
Gerry looked troubled, and his thumb rubbed the palm of Ghost's. "The alpha in me needs to keep others safe. This, though. There's nothing I can do. I can't imagine how hard this is for you."
"The Witch said something about trouble getting the solution out, but she was cut off." Ghost opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.
"What? Tell me, Ghost." Gerry let go of Ghost's hand in favor of lifting Ghost's chin.
"The witches I spoke to earlier? One of them hinted this was not a natural illness. The Witch seemed to agree, and her agreement scares me." Ghost looked at Gerry, not trying to hide how troubled he was. "If someone wanted this outbreak to happen, what if they found the Witch?"
Gerry looked dubious. "How would they go about finding her? I thought seers were rare. If she didn't tell you, I doubt she'd have told anyone where she was headed."
"Seers are rare. The only other one I know of is Zereda. She's a friend of the Witch from way back, and she helped me when I started having visions." Ghost frowned. "She said she was blocked from Seeing where the Witch was. I only managed because I was the Witch's apprentice. We share a bond because the Witch gave me my witchmark."
"Then the Witch is probably fine. She can take care of herself." Gerry didn't sound convinced, and Ghost shook his head.
"I know she can take care of herself, but you can't always protect yourself from every danger." Ghost ran his hand through his hair, wondering how to explain to Gerry. "She's in the Northlands. I have no idea how they react to witches, or if they even understand what we are. I don't know if they have ruins or use relics. They're a mystery, and on top of an inexplicable illness, I don't trust another mystery. Then there's the way the contact was cut off, like she'd covered the mirror to hide it from someone. Or like someone had taken the mirror from her."
Gerry looked at the table for a moment, staring a hole through his bit of bread, and Ghost knew he was thinking hard. Gerry's fingers tapped a ragged beat on the table. When Gerry looked up, his expression was somber.
"What do you want to do?" Gerry asked.
Ghost was sure his own surprise was written all over his face. "What do you mean? You're my alpha. I should be asking you, or at least asking your leave to do whatever it is I want to do."
Gerry shook his head in negation. "Not this time. This is witch's business, and I don't claim any right to decide for you about this. I don't really care what the godsman said at our mating ceremony, or how the elders would feel about it. There are going to be times when I have to step aside as your alpha and let you choose your path. You're a witch, and I can't know what needs doing."
Ghost had not expected Gerry's answer, and he took a deep breath. "And if I ask you for advice?"
"I'll give it without hesitation." Gerry gave Ghost's hand a gentle squeeze. "But my usefulness might be limited if I don't think I know enough about the problem."
Ghost's thoughts were a jumble as he considered his options. Gerry's trust in his wisdom was heartening, but Ghost was far less confident he would choose the correct path to follow.
"I need to talk to the witchsisters again, and I can only hope the Witch contacts me with the rest of what she wanted to say. I'll admit I'm worried about her. The way the contact ended was too abrupt and not like her at all." Ghost picked up the last bit of his bread and ate it, chewing as he thought. "Would you stop me if I said I wanted to go north?"
"I'd ask to go with you," Gerry said. His muddy green eyes never wavered as he looked at Ghost. The love and trust he offered without prevarication rocked Ghost to his core.
"If I said I had to go alone?" Ghost hated himself for persisting, but he needed to know. Gerry's answer would affect his decision, and he would be foolish to pretend otherwise.
Gerry sighed. "Then I'd have to let you go, wouldn't I? Or I'd have been lying when I said I trusted you to know what needs doing as our healer. You're this village's witch, even if you're my Ghost. I can't hold you back from what you need to do."
"I'm sorry," Ghost said, and he meant the apology. "I don't know if I'll need to go. I won't know until I talk to my sisters. And with this plague running through the village, I don't really want to leave. My first duty is to my village. Duty is part of taking the oath as a witch. I passed their tests and I took their oath. I need to honor my vows. Otherwise, I'm not worth much at all, am I?"
Ghost drank the last of the tea and realized he did feel better for having eaten. He stood and stretched.
"For now, I need to talk to the elders about getting a warehouse to isolate and treat the sick." Ghost regarded Gerry with a small smile. "Did you mean it about lending your voice to mine as my alpha?"
Gerry stood and held out his hand to Ghost. "Of course I did. I think they'll have to listen to the both of us, don't you?"
***
Ghost and Gerry walked in silence to the chamber of the elders, next to the gods' house. Ghost was busy rehearsing his request in his mind, hoping the words would not get tangled on his tongue. The warmth of Gerry's hand was welcome when Ghost reached for him.
The door from the antechamber to where the elders waited was open. Ghost and Gerry entered, Ghost peering out from under his lashes. Candles made of the finest beeswax lit the room and gave off a clean scent reminiscent of meadow clover. The walls were whitewashed timber, and the windows diffused the afternoon sunlight.
Ghost had never stood before the elders, and he suppressed a nervous giggle. The Eldest sat in the middle while the rest of the elders, usually eight in number, flanked him along one side of a long table of deep red Southron wood. One seat was empty.
"Speak," the Eldest commanded, his voice strong. He reminded Ghost of Merrah for an instant, the way his eyes seemed so much younger despite the deep wrinkles of his weathered face.
"I am Ghost, witch and healer to the village, having been apprenticed to the Witch and found worthy by the witchsisters." Ghost spoke the formal words without stuttering, although his mouth was dry in the face of the influential elders. "I come before you to ask your help in a matter involving the entire village."
The man bowed his head and turned to Gerry. "Why are you here?"
Ghost knew the man was well aware of who Gerry was, but the words had to be said aloud so anyone there to witness events would hear as well. Today, with the epidemic raging, no one watched from the back of the room, but the formalities needed to be observed.
"I am Gerry, an alpha of the village, so acknowledged by you, Eldest. Ghost is my sworn mate before the gods. I come to add my voice to his." Gerry's voice was strong and confident, and Ghost enjoyed a swell of pride in his mate.
The Eldest nodded. "Say what you have come to say, witch."
Ghost took a breath. "A malady is plaguing the village, the likes of which has never been recorded in the histories handed down to me by the Witch. The illness spreads without regard to location or any other obvious means, and this malady afflicts both men and women, young and old. I believe we are facing an epidemic."
The elders shifted in their seats, uneasy. One man dropped his head in his hands, and the elder seated beside him leaned forward.
"One of the elders has fallen sick," the Eldest said in a grave voice. "I am told he has a fever and has been vomiting blood."
Ghost's mouth was dry as dust. "The oldest and the very young are most susceptible. I'll be very honest. I can treat the symptoms of the illness, but I can't cure the patient completely. Eleven people have died already." Ghost took another breath, his hands feeling damp. "I'm seeking a cure. But in the meantime, I think the wisest course of action is to create a central spot for treatment. I'm one witch, and I waste time going from street to street to treat patients and look for more afflicted. Give me an empty warehouse to use. I'll ask the alphas of the patients brought to the warehouse to bring bedding and contribute to feeding the sick."
Ghost's Dilemma Page 7
