Divine by Mistake

by P. C. Cast

  “I sent for your bag of medicines,” Alanna said.

  “As usual, you anticipate my needs.” He smiled dreamily into her eyes.

  Ugh. Newlyweds.

  Starting down the hall, in what I hoped was the right direction, I “psst-ed” and motioned for them to catch up with me.

  “Hey,” I whispered. “Where the hell are we going?”

  “To the quarters of your maids.” Alanna supplied that nonhelpful answer.

  I gave her an I’m clueless look and she seemed to remember I was me.

  “Oh, just keep going straight, like you are returning to the courtyard. Before you come to the door, turn left, and keep walking and the corridor will lead you to their quarters.” She paused. “When you smell it, you are near.”

  Carolan’s eyes narrowed at her description, and we increased our pace.

  I followed her directions. I turned left when I came to the exit that I recognized as the door that would open out on the center courtyard. We walked down a long, marble corridor that was decorated with colorful murals on one side and large windows that overlooked the courtyard on the other. The murals were predominately of lovely maidens frolicking gaily in flowered meadows, with me (or, rather, Rhiannon) astride Epi (bare bosomed, of course—me, not Epi) benevolently overseeing it all. As we hurried down the hall, I glanced out the beveled windows and was pleased by the scene of industriously working women. Maraid was in the thick of it all, walking from group to group (no doubt she was in organizers’ heaven). We rounded a bend in the hall—

  And the smell struck me. At first it was almost sweet, like sugar that had been scalded. Then it changed to a thick, purulent aroma that caused me to gag. I put my hand to my mouth and paused, looking at Alanna. She motioned to the unguarded door that was closest to us, and nodded.

  “I will enter first.” Carolan moved past us toward the door. “It may be best if you wait here.”

  “No.” I took my hand from my mouth and made my voice sound firm. “I’m coming with you. They’re my girls.”

  “I have already been in there—it holds no surprise for me.” Alanna’s voice sounded sad.

  Carolan nodded at us, and opened the door.

  The scene that greeted us was like a vignette taken from a weird horror flick. If it hadn’t been for the smell making it real, I would have thought I was having my first authentic nightmare. The room was enormous, and had obviously once been lovely. The ceiling was tall and intricately lined with creamy-colored crown molding. The walls and the matching sheer curtains, which draped over floor-to-ceiling windows and pooled in shimmery waves on the marble floor, were tinted a soft peach color that should have evoked feelings of harmony and comfort, but now it seemed to cast everything in a diseased off-color light. Soiled bedding and linens were piled all over the floor—on each pile lay a person. Other women shuffled between the piles of bedding with beakers of water and wet clothing, stopping briefly to help one of the sick drink or to wipe a fevered face.

  As I stepped into the room I forced myself not to retch, but I couldn’t keep my hand from covering my mouth. Vomit and other bodily wastes mixed with something that I didn’t, at first, recognize. Then I realized where I had smelled the odd scent before—MacCallan Castle. It was the scent of death.

  Alanna and I stayed by the door as Carolan hurried into the room. He went quickly to the pallet closest to us, and bent to touch the fevered brow of a young girl. Thick, down-filled blankets covered her, but I could see she shivered and thrashed about. I watched Carolan examine her—he drew back the blankets and began feeling her neck with one hand and taking her pulse with the other. His face was set in an impassive mask as he murmured soft words to her and opened the bag, which lay at his feet.

  He pulled out something that looked like a crude stethoscope and began listening to her chest. I felt helpless and inept standing there, watching him move from pallet to pallet, examining the patients and calling for water, fresh linens or cool compresses.

  I wanted to misquote Bones and yell, “Damnit, Jim, I’m a teacher not a miracle worker!” But I knew no one would get it. I glanced sideways at Alanna and decided I was going to have to start telling Star Trek stories, if for no other reason than just so someone would be able to appreciate my wit.

  “My Lady?” A raspy voice caught my attention. I looked around, trying to identify who was calling me, and about halfway into the room I saw a hand make a vague motion in my direction and a head raised feebly so that I glimpsed long, dark hair.

  “Tarah?”

  Alanna nodded her head sadly.

  Well, that did it. I sure as hell couldn’t just stand there when a nymph who looked like a favorite ex-student needed me. I took a deep breath through my mouth and made my way to where she lay.

  As I came to her side, I took her hand in mine. It was cracked and dry, and the fragile lightness of her bones surprised me.

  “I am sorry, my Lady.” She tried to smile, but her expression turned into a grimace. “We are too busy for me to be ill.”

  “Shush,” I quieted her. “Don’t worry about it. Just rest and get better.” She closed her eyes and nodded.

  She didn’t want to let loose my hand, so I sat next to her and studied her face. It was pale and her lips looked dry, but what was most disconcerting was that the skin of her face and neck were covered with an angry-looking red rash.

  “Chicken pox?” I mumbled aloud to myself.

  “Yes, I believe it is the pox.” Carolan’s voice startled me. “Are you familiar with it?”

  “I think so. I had it when I was a child,” I answered him, still looking at Tarah’s drawn face. “But I wasn’t this sick.” I remembered hearing stories of people who had died of chicken pox, but these had always seemed to me like old wives’ tales. I had caught chicken pox when I was a kid, and I remember missing several days of school and being itchy, but nothing like this. These people were severely ill.

  “I, too—” Tarah’s weak voice trailed off, and I had to bend down to catch the rest of her words “—had the pox as a child.”

  “She says she had pox when she was a child.” I blinked up at Carolan in surprise. “That’s weird. In my—” I almost said world, but caught myself and changed words with a cough “—um, experience, people can only get pox once. They are unable to be infected again.”

  Carolan nodded in agreement then motioned for me to follow him back to the door. Before letting go, I squeezed Tarah’s dry hand and whispered that I’d be back soon.

  The three of us huddled together near the entrance, and Carolan spoke quietly and urgently.

  “I have only performed a rudimentary examination of several of the patients, but what I have already found concerns me deeply. I believe this is all the same disease, but it develops in three distinctly different stages.” He pointed at the first girl he had examined. “The beginning stage seems to be high fever with headache, backache and vomiting.” He gestured toward Tarah and continued, “Then a few days later the fever breaks and the rash begins. It appears to move from the face throughout the body and extremities.” He nodded his head in the direction of a cluster of pallets, all occupied by children. “The rash changes into blisters, which become filled with pus and putrefaction. The fever returns, bringing delirium. This stage is dangerous and deadly. These children are dehydrating. Some are developing fluid in their lungs. Some have throats that are closing. This is not the childhood pox that brings uncomfortable itching and is only fatal to the very young or very old and weak. Many of these women and children were young and strong—but they are dangerously ill.”

  “Smallpox.” The name washed into my mind from the recesses of my memory. Growing up in Oklahoma I was very familiar with tragic stories of tribes of Native Americans being wiped out after being infected with the disease. Almost without conscious thought, my hand lifted to trace the old inoculation scar on my left arm. A shudder of fear fluttered in my stomach.

  “What is this smallpox?” Carolan asked.


  “I don’t know a lot about it. In my world, or at least in the civilized part of my world, it has been entirely eradicated. But from what I can remember, this sounds like it might be a similar disease.” I gave him an apologetic look.

  “Anything you can tell me I can put to use.”

  I searched my memory, wishing the biology electives I had taken in college hadn’t been ten-plus years ago.

  “Under what you might call normal circumstances, which means if a race of people had been periodically exposed to the pox, it killed those who were very young, and those who were old and already ill. But let’s say a certain country and the people who lived in the country had never been exposed to the pox. It could devastate them, killing probably ninety-five out of every one hundred exposed. It is like a plague.” My remembrances only made me more worried. “Has this disease ever been seen in Partholon before now?”

  Carolan rubbed his chin while he thought. “It seems to me that I do have some records of a pox that has sprung up periodically in the people who live near Ufasach Marsh, and spread sporadically to the general public. But they are a strange, secretive people who do not look to outsiders for aid, so the references are few.”

  That gave me a thought. “Alanna, you said the maidens were complaining of being sick when they came back from a retreat. Right?”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “Where was the retreat?”

  “The Temple of the Muse.”

  “Isn’t that near the marsh?” I tried to visualize the map.

  “Yes,” Carolan answered. “The marsh makes a picturesque southern border for the temple grounds.”

  “I’ll bet if we check this out, we’ll find the retreat was where this stuff originated. Which means the Muses are probably dealing with the same illness there that we are dealing with here.” I dug through my memory (which tended to be cluttered with old pieces of half-memorized literature and poetry), trying to remember everything I could about smallpox.

  “Oh, God.” I hit my forehead, upset that the most obvious thing about smallpox had just now popped into my mind. “It’s really contagious. Through bodily fluids and contact. Like if you sleep in the same bedding someone who is infected has slept and sweated, or whatever, in—you get the disease. Or if you drink after them out of the same cup. Anyone who takes care of someone who has it risks contracting the disease.” I wondered briefly if they understood about germs. An image of Carolan calling for fresh water and soap and washing his hands between patients set my mind somewhat to rest.

  “Then you and Alanna must stay far away from those who are sick.”

  “You’re right.” I looked at Alanna. “You have to stay out of the sickroom…you’ve already been exposed too much.”

  “As must you,” Alanna said.

  “No, I can’t get it.” I brushed aside the soft fabric of my half sleeve to expose my faded scar. “When I was a kid I got a shot.”

  Carolan’s face was a total question mark. I sighed and made a motion with my hand of a needle sticking into my skin and something being injected into my arm, deciding quickly to give him the short version of the story and leave out my (now very fortunate) decision to say yes when the school nurse asked if we wanted smallpox boosters along with our annual flu shots at school. “It made my body build up something called antibodies against smallpox. If I’m exposed to it, my body will fight off the disease.”

  “It sounds like a miracle.” Carolan’s voice was awestruck.

  “Yeah, I wish I were a doctor so I could explain how it works.” I shrugged my shoulders helplessly. “Sorry, you got the English teacher not the doctor.”

  “The teacher is fine with me,” Alanna said sweetly.

  I smiled my thanks at her before turning back to Carolan. “Well, what do we need to do?”

  “The first step is to quarantine the sick.”

  “And everything they use,” I added. “And their families.”

  Yes.” He nodded in agreement. “I think it would be wise to limit contact with the sick to my assistants, and, perhaps, a few healthy volunteers, probably family members of those who have already been exposed to the disease. Then I must look through my records to see if I can find references to this disease.” He glanced sadly back at the room that was already filled with sick people. “The only thing we can do is make them comfortable and attempt to keep them filled with liquids.”

  “Boil the water first, before they drink it.” Sounded like a good thought. They sure didn’t need wine, and I had no way of knowing how clean the water supply was—I hadn’t gotten sick yet, but I hadn’t been drinking much of my water straight (I prefer my water in wine form). “You should also make sure that the dirty linens are kept quarantined from the rest of the temple, and they need to be washed in boiling water, with lots of harsh soap.”

  “Boiling water cleanses the evil from contagion.” He sounded pleased.

  However he wanted to put it was okay with me; I was just happy he agreed.

  “Yeah, as well as most germs.”

  Carolan raised his eyebrows at me, but he didn’t argue or ask for an explanation.

  “I am concerned about the origin of this outbreak. It would serve an ill purpose to have our warriors become sick as they are moving into position to entrap the Fomorians. If this pox originated at the Temple of the Muse, the warriors must stay away from that area.”

  “Wait, you’re right about that, but—now, correct me if I’m wrong—I don’t think I’ve ever heard of horses coming down with a pox. Have you?” My mind was whirring like a hamster in a wheel.

  “No…” Carolan was rubbing his chin again. “I can think of no instance of a horse pox.”

  “How about a centaur pox?” I asked.

  “Your husband would be more knowledgeable than I, but I do not believe I know of any such pox that has ever infected the centaurs.”

  “Good.” I felt a load lift from me. “Then we’ll just be sure we have only centaur warriors go through the Temple of the Muse to attack Laragon from the east.”

  “That would be wise, but we still must be certain we contain this outbreak.”

  “Okay. Let’s get busy.” If I thought too long about what I was going to volunteer to do, I’d run screaming out of the room. This was one of the times it was better to act than to think.

  “Love,” Carolan spoke softly to Alanna, “you cannot aid us here. I will not have you put in danger of contagion.”

  “But you are exposing yourself.” She moved close to him and his arms went around her.

  “I must.” He kissed her forehead. “You know I must. But I cannot do what needs to be done here if I am worried about your safety. You can help me by sending for my assistants, and then going to the kitchen to oversee the boiling of water and making of herbal tea.”

  “And I need you to make sure the women are doing what they should be doing,” I added. “I’m sure Maraid is dependable, but she’s not you. And you have to round up the families of those infected, and keep your eye out for people who might be just coming down with the sickness.”

  I heard Alanna’s sigh as she gave in. And I knew she would—her sense of responsibility and integrity would never allow her to be selfish or childish. It wasn’t in her nature to insist she stay here with Carolan. Alanna and Suzanna were women who put the needs of others before their own desires.

  Not for the first time, I wished I could be more like them.

  She kissed her new husband on the lips and I heard their whispered adoration for each other. Then she turned to me and gave me a hard hug.

  “Keep watch over him for me.” She yanked one of my loose curls, reminding me of my own husband. “And keep watch on yourself, too.”

  “Not a problem. Oh, and would you find ClanFintan and explain to him what’s happened? And ask him if he would come here when he has finished with the warriors.”

  Alanna nodded and said, “I will see you this evening. I love you both.” She left quickly, as if she had to forc
e her legs to start moving before her heart could order them to stop.

  Neither of us said anything; we just watched her leave. Her quiet dignity touched our hearts.

  “Okay…” I clapped my hands together, purposely breaking the moment before either of us did something ridiculous like start bawling. “Give me something to tie back this friggin hair with, and I’m yours to command. Just tell me what we need to do.”

  “First, let us begin by arranging the patients in areas of most to least ill. Then we can get these linens and pallets changed and cleaned. And we must try and keep the patients hydrated and comfortable.” He pointed to a pile of what looked like clean strips of cloth. “And there is something you can use on your untamable hair.”

  “Aye! Aye!” I saluted his back as I grabbed the makeshift scrunchie and followed him out into the room. “Hey, is it okay for me to crack open these windows? It’s nice outside and nasty in here.”

  Carolan gave me a “yes” nod and I hurried to pull open the huge windows. Outside, the warm breeze held the heady scent of honeysuckle in bloom. I tried not to retch as the sweet smell mixed with vomit and disease.

  I could already tell this was going to be a really long day.

  CHAPTER 3

  While I was going to college I worked part-time as a unit secretary for a large Catholic hospital near the campus of the University of Illinois. As a rule, unit secretaries don’t do much dirty work. They’re just what the name implies—a secretary for a nursing unit. I usually worked on a general-medicine floor. For a while I worked on the birthing unit (which was pretty cool). There were two major things I learned from my part-time-helping-to-put-myself-through-college job. Number one was I didn’t particularly like being a secretary. People were just too damn stuck up and they didn’t think secretaries knew anything, when usually a good secretary knew just about everything—or at least everything that was important. Lesson number two was that I absolutely never, ever wanted to be a nurse. Don’t get me wrong, I liked them. I respected them. I appreciated them. I just didn’t want to be them. Blood, feces, vomit, sputum, looking at people’s private parts (which were usually anything but attractive) and sticking things into bodily orifices while being surrounded by sickness and yuck—nope, it wasn’t for me.