I had the added assurance of knowing I was buffered against catching the disease that I nursed, so sometimes Macabir's praise of my courage on this count embarrassed me. Then a journeyman healer walked boldly into the camp bearing sufficient serum to inoculate everyone, and announced that the camp was being struck. The sick would be transported to the Harper Hall, where the apprentice barracks were being cleared to accommodate them. The transients also would find overnight shelter before being sped on their way in the morning. And if they'd be good enough to take along some supplies ...
I volunteered, although Macabir repeated his wish for me to take formal training at the Hall. "You've a natural gift for the profession, Rill."
"I'm far too old to be an apprentice, Macabir."
"How old is old when you've a right knack with the sick? A Turn and you've done the initial training. Three, and there wouldn't be a healer who'd not be pleased to have you assist him."
"I'm free now to see more of this continent than one Hold, Macabir."
He sighed, scrubbing at his lined and weary face. "Well, keep it in mind if you find travel palls."
Chapter 7
3.19.43, 3.20.43
I left in the early evening light, , with a rough map to show me the way to three northern holds, quite close to the Ruathan border, where serum and other urgent medicinal supplies were needed. Macabir tried to persuade me to wait until the morning, but I reminded him that there was light enough with the full moon to travel those open roads, and the need was immediate. I wanted to take no chance that Desdra or someone from the Hold might recognize Lady Nerilka, disheveled and worn though she was.
I rode past Fort Hold, without so much as a glance to see if Tolocamp was at his window, past the cot ranks and the beastholds, and wondered if any one of the many people with whom I had spent my life up until two days ago saw me pass. Had anyone, indeed, with the exception of Anella and my sisters, missed me?
My folly was that I was more fatigued than I had suspected before the routine of nursing was stripped from me. I dozed half a dozen times in the saddle. Fortunately the runner was an honest beast, and once set on the track, continued for lack of other instruction. Reaching the first hold by midnight, I managed to inject the household before I collapsed. They let me sleep myself out, for which I berated the good lady when she fed me a huge breakfast at dawn, but she merely replied that the other holds knew I was coming and that was certainly better than wondering if they'd been totally forgotten.
So I rode on, arriving at the second hold by midmorning. They insisted that I stay for a meal, for I looked so tired and worn. They knew that there was no sickness at my final stop, and they were anxious for all the news I could give them. Until my arrival, they had been kept informed only by drum messages from my next stop. High Hill Hold, right on the border of Ruatha.
I finally admitted to myself that I was on my way to Ruatha. I had been unconsciously drawn toward that destination for many Turns, but had been thwarted so often by circumstance. Now, I reasoned to myself as I continued on the next leg of my journey, I had a skill to bring to that most tragic of Holds. Only dragonriders had been in to Ruatha Main Hold and rumors of the devastation were horrific. Well, I could nurse the sick, manage any area of Hold activity, and do what I could to expiate the guilt I still carried for the untimely deaths of my mother and sisters.
I was also beginning to realize that the plague had struck with a fine disregard for rank, health, age, and usefulness. It is true that the very young and the very old were more vulnerable, but the epidemic had claimed so many in the prime of life with so much living left to be done. If it suited me to clothe my action in the fine garb of sacrifice or expedience, as long as I performed the services required what matter the motives, hidden or open?
Arriving at High Hill Hold in the early afternoon, I was set immediately to work to stitch a long gash sustained by one of the holder's sons, despite my protestations that I was only a messenger. Their healer had gone down to Fort Hold when the news had been drummed out of Ruatha. Since I could tell them nothing of a man named Trelbin, they sadly realized that he, too, must be dead. Lady Gana said she was capable of dealing with minor cuts, but treating this wound was beyond her ability. Well, I had assisted at sufficient surgeries of this nature, so that I felt more confident in this instance than she obviously was.
Stitching a seam on fabric, which does not complain and cannot squirm, is quite a different matter from repairing ragged and uneven flesh. I had sufficient fellis and numbweed among the supplies I carried to ease the boy's discomfort and I sincerely hoped that my stitches held. Lady Gana announced herself impressed when I had finished.
Later I explained about the serum, then injected everyone except their high hold shepherds, who never came near enough to populated areas to catch an infection. Lady Gana was still not quite sure that the wind did not carry the disease, so she insisted that I tell her exactly how to cope with it. I know she did not believe me when I told her that death was not caused by the disease itself, but by secondary infections occurring in a patient already weakened. That is why I couldn't really admit that I was not a trained healer. I would undo all the good I had done. Whether I was trained or not, my information was accurate.
Bestrum and Gana then sadly related that a son and daughter accompanied by a servant had gone to the Ruathan Gather and they had had no word from them. They obviously hoped that I was bound for Ruatha.
Bestrum was laboriously sketching a map for me to follow when we were interrupted by excited shouts and cheers. Leaning out the windows we saw a blue dragon, curiously laden, settle to the ground. All of us rushed out to greet him.
"My name is M'barak, Arith's rider, of Fort Weyr. I come in search of more apprentice blown glass bottles." The lad grinned engagingly as he pointed to the dragon's burdens. "Have you any you can spare Ruatha?"
However young, he had to be given the courtesies due a dragonrider, so over klah and some of Lady Gana's excellent wine cake, he told us that runnerbeasts also were dying of the plague, and needed to be inoculated. Bestrum and Gana took some pride in remarking that they had received their injections only that morning, and indicated me. I almost laughed as M'barak blinked, for I know he had assumed I was of this hold. Although I still wore coarse trousers and felt boots, Macabir had given me healer tunic and surcoat against the rigors of travel. I didn't look like a proper healer and I at least knew it, if the land holders did not.
"Were you just going back to the Healer Hall now?" M'barak began. "Because if you happened to be handy with runnerbeasts, you'd be of tremendous use right now at Ruatha. I can take you, " his eyes twinkled with mischievous delight ", and save you a long and tedious journey. Tuero could drum the Hall to tell 'em where you are. It's just getting people up to Ruatha right now, people who've been injected and aren't afraid of the plague. You're not afraid, are you?"
I only shook my head, a bit shocked at the way my pulses had leaped and my heart skipped at this unexpected invitation to go where I desperately wanted to be. During Suriana's lifetime, Ruatha had been the lodestone for my only chance of some happiness and freedom. I had freed myself of Fort Hold's Blood yoke and was now equally free to go to Ruatha, especially now that I had been given what was tantamount to an invitation. It would be a Ruatha sadly changed from the Hold Suriana had described, but I would be of more use there now, especially going as Rill, not as Lady Nerilka. It was employment and purpose I sought, wasn't it?
"If it's someone good with runners you need, I've two men here spending their waking hours carving scrimshaw for lack of something to do till spring comes in earnest," Bestrum said expansively. "Rill jabbed 'em with the rest of us this morning, so they've no call to fear going to Ruatha."
So it was arranged. As the two beasthandlers, brothers sharing the same phlegmatic temperament and solid builds, collected their necessaries, Gana kindly fetched out a heavy cloak against the biting cold of between. She bustled about with her drudges, organizing provisions
for three more mouths as well as collecting three great apprentice blown glass jars, which M'barak and I had to arrange so as not to crack together on Arith. This was by no means my first contact with a dragon, but certainly it was the most extended and personal. Dragons have a warm, very smooth soft hide, which leaves a spicy smell on your hands. Arith rumbled a lot, though M'barak assured me that it didn't mean he was annoyed with his unusual burden. We padded the great glass bottles; Fort had more than its share of these apprentice efforts, although I cannot remember what Mother did with them.
I made a final check on the boy's wound, but it looked unchanged and he was fast asleep, a smile on his face from the fellis. Then I took my farewell of Bestrum and Gana, who, though I had known them only a few hours, were profuse in their good wishes. I told them that I would ask about their children and the servant, and send back word. Gana knew there was slight hope, but the offer gave her comfort.
When Bestrum gave me a heave to the dragon's back, I thumped into place behind M'barak's slight but straight body and hoped I didn't hurt Arith. The two brothers got aboard with less fuss, and it was comforting to know that there were two behind me to fall off before I would be in danger.
Arith executed a little run before he jumped skyward, then his fragile, looking, transparent wings took the first mighty sweep downward. It was the most exhilarating experience I had ever had, and I envied dragonriders anew as Arith's strong wings carried us further aloft. I needed the cloak as well as the buffer of warm bodies in front and behind me.
M'barak must have known how I was feeling, for he turned his head and gave me a wide pleased grin. "Hold on now. Rill, we're going between," he yelled. At least, that's what I thought he must have said as the wind tore his voice away.
If flying dragonback is exhilarating, going between is the essence of terror. Blackness, nothingness, a cold so intense my extremities ached, and only the knowledge that riders and dragons experienced the same thing daily with no ill effect kept me from screaming in fear. Just as I was sure I would suffocate, we were sunstruck again as Arith brought us by that unique draconic instinct to our destination. Then I had far more to concern me than that fleeting passage through black between.
I had never been to Ruatha Hold, but Suriana had sent me innumerable sketches of the establishment and had described its amenities time and again. The great Hold, carved from the living rock of the cliff face, could not be altered physically, but somehow it was completely unlike Suriana's drawings. She had told me of the pleasant air about the Hold, of the hospitality and warmth and friendliness so different from the cool, detached formality of Fort. She had explained how many people, family and otherwise, were constantly in and out of the Hold. She had described the meadows, the racing flats, the lovely fields down to the river. She had not lived to describe the huge burial mounds or the charnel circle of blackened earth, the litter of broken travel wagons and personal effects that were scattered up the roadstead that had once been graced by Gather stalls, bright with banners and people and barter.
I was stunned, and only peripherally aware that the phlegmatic brothers were also shocked by the view. Mercifully, M'barak was a tactful young man and said nothing as Arith glided past the desolate Hold. I did see one encouraging sight: five people seated in the court, obviously soaking up the afternoon sun.
"Two dragons now, Brother," the man directly behind me said with great satisfaction.
Looking ahead, I could see that a great bronze dragon was depositing passengers at the wide entrance to the beasthold. The bronze took off as Arith hurtled across the plowed fields. We could see sun gleaming on his hide and wings, and then he just disappeared. Arith settled down in exactly the same spot the bronze had occupied.
"Moreta," M'barak called, gesturing eagerly. The tall woman with short, curly blond hair turned back to him. The Fort Weyrwoman was the last person I expected to encounter at Ruatha.
I shall always remember that I had that opportunity to see Moreta again and at that particular moment in her life, when her face was tinged with sun and an inner serenity that I was not to understand until much later. She had, of course, been at Fort Hold in her capacity of Weyrwoman since she had assumed that responsibility on Leri's retirement. But these were infrequent visits , on state occasions, so although I had been in the same Hall with her, we had never actually spoken together. I had had the impression that she was shy or reticent, but then Tolocamp did so much talking in that ponderous way of his that I doubt she'd have had a chance to speak.
"Hurry up!" M'barak's voice hauled me away from my impressions of that moment. "I need help with these silly bottles and I've people here who say they can handle runners. And we've got to hurry because I have to prepare for the Fall. F'neldril will skin me if I'm late!"
Two other men and a slim, dark‑haired girl moved out of the shadows to help. I knew Alessan on the instant and supposed the girl must be his surviving sister, Oklina. The other man wore Harper blue. The brothers dismounted quickly, and M'barak and I handed down first the provisions and then the great bottles, none of which had suffered any travel damage.
"If you'll slip down, Moreta can mount," M'barak suggested, with a grin of apology for his haste.
So, for the first time, I traded places with Moreta. I would have liked to have sustained the contact then, for she had a manner about her that made one want to get to know her better. She appeared considerably less aloof than she had seemed in the Hold. As Arith began his preparatory little run, Moreta did look back over her shoulder. But it couldn't have been at me.
I turned and saw that Alessan had shaded his eyes to watch until the dragon went between. Then he smiled, his welcome taking me in along with the two brothers, and held out his hand in the friendliest way. "You've come to help us with the runners? Was M'barak frank about what is needed in ruined Ruatha?"
At first I thought he sounded bitter, but came to understand that he did not hide from the grim realities of his situation. He ever had a wry sense of humor, but Suriana, preparing me for my long expected visit to Ruatha, had warned me of that. What would she think of her foster sister coming here like this?
"Bestrum sent us. Lord Alessan, with his condolences and greetings," said the more grizzled of the two men. "I'm Pol; my brother's Sal. We like runners better nor other beasts."
Alessan turned his smiling light, green eyes to me, and all that Suriana had told me about him rattled through my head. But the sketches that she had also sent did not do him justice, or else he had changed dramatically from that young and rather reckless, looking man. There was now considerably more character about the eyes and mouth, and an ineffable sadness, despite the smile of his greeting, a sadness that would fade, but never leave. He was thin, had been fever gaunt; the broad bones of his shoulders pushed through his tunic and his hands were rough, callused, cracked, and pricked, more like a common drudge's than a Lord Holder's.
"I'm Rill," I said, to bring myself back to the present and to guard against unexpected queries. "I have always managed runners. I've some experience in healing and concocting all kinds of medicines from herbs, roots, and tubers. And I've brought some supplies with me."
"Would you have anything for the racking cough?" the girl asked, her huge dark eyes shining. Such a shining could scarcely be for me or for the provision of cough syrup, but I did not know until much later how these people had spent the unusual hour that had just ended moments before we arrived.
"Yes, I do have," I said, hefting my saddlebags packed with the bottles of tussilago.
"Holder Bestrum wanted to know if his son and daughter live," Pol asked bluntly, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot while his brother looked anywhere but at Lord Alessan.
"I'll look at the records," the harper said gently, but we had all noticed the shuddering expression that dampened the smile in Alessan's eyes. And Oklina had given a little gasp. "I'm Tuero," the harper went on, smiling to reassure us all. "Alessan, what's the order of business now?"
And so T
uero deftly turned our thoughts to the future, away from the sorrowful past. Shortly we had no time for anything, past or future. The present consumed us.
Alessan quickly explained what had to be done. First, the few patients still remaining in the Main Hall infirmary had to be moved to quarters on the second level of the Hold. Then the Hall must be scrubbed thoroughly with redwort solution. He looked beyond me, from whom he could expect assistance at such a task, to Pol and Sal.
"We must make sufficient serum to inoculate runnerbeasts." He turned and gestured toward the pasture. "We will take blood from those that survived the plague."
Pol stopped mid‑nod and glanced at Sal. I must admit that I was stunned by the look of the runnerbeasts. Many were weedy, with light bones and high haunches, rather thin, necked and far too gaunt to bear any resemblance to the sturdily conformed, rugged, firm, fleshed beasts that had been the pride of Ruatha Hold. Some were no more than great walking bone racks.
Alessan noticed our consternation. "Most of the beasts that my father bred died of the plague." His tone was matter, of, fact and we took our cue from it. "Those that I had bred for speed over short distances turned out to be resilient and came through, as did some of the crossbreds that our guests had brought."
"Oh, the pity of it, the pity of it," Pol murmured, shaking his grizzled head. His brother did the same.
"Oh, I shall breed fine strong beasts again. Would you know my handler, Dag?" Alessan asked the brothers. They both brightened and nodded with more enthusiasm. "He'd some of the mares in foal and a young stallion up in the hill meadows. They survived, so I've some of the old basic stock to breed from."
Nerilka's Story Page 7
