Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

  “All right, all right… just let’s get you to the doctor first.”

  In moments he felt Franz’s hands on his face, gently drawing off his glasses and carefully opening his left eye. Even the shaded light was excruciating.

  “I’m sorry to have to do this Menders, I can’t see a thing without more light,” Franz said, regret in his voice. “Ermina, could you run down to Cook and ask her to fill some clean towels with ice? Bring them back here.”

  Menders could hear her pattering away down the hall.

  “Let me look. Brace yourself.” Franz’s voice was very serious. “I’m going to have to shine a light into your eye.”

  Menders gritted his teeth, gripped the edge of the table Franz had perched him on and nodded. Even so, he cried out at the pain and fought to get away from Franz’s hand on his head.

  “Damn!” Franz swore as he looked at the eye. After several agonizing moments while tears flowed down Menders’ face, he mercifully removed the light just as Ermina opened the door.

  “Here’s the ice – Grahl’s teeth!” Ermina gasped.

  “It’s worse than it looks,” Franz said quickly. “It isn’t uncommon. He needs something for pain. Could you run back to Cook and ask her for the ramplane syrup?”

  “You aren’t dosing me with ramplane, you idiot, it’ll knock me cold!!” Menders blustered angrily. Then he heard Franz bolting the door.

  “Now you listen to me,” the doctor replied heatedly. “You have a serious hemorrhage in that eye, caused by infection and the sudden contraction of the eye muscles when the light hit it. Your entire eyeball is flooded with blood. It’s bright red and swelling. Combined with the infection from your injury this is a very serious situation.”

  “How the hells could that happen? I’ve borne light like that before,” Menders growled.

  “Not when you’ve had an infection. Your eyes are not normal.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know!”

  “Listen to me, you stubborn bastard, do you want to go blind?”

  Menders felt an icy claw of fear sink into his heart. Blind! No, impossible… how could he care for Katrin if he were blind?”

  “Now, before Ermina comes back you have to hear this. I’ve made a mistake by not doing this before with that eye infected, but it seemed to be healing. Now I have no choice. You have got to get in bed and stay there until this eye is completely normal again.”

  “What? For how damned long?”

  “A minimum of two weeks.”

  “I can’t stay in bed for two weeks!”

  “Menders, stop roaring and trying to scare me and listen,” Franz said in a very low voice. “Your eyes are very delicate at the best of times. The injury you had was infected, but was responding to treatment. Now your eye is extremely compromised. What happens to one eye can happen to the other. Infections can spread. You have no choice. You must allow your body to heal or you could lose your sight.”

  Menders said nothing.

  “Now, I won’t bandage your eyes if you’re able to lie quiet…”

  “You will not bandage my eyes!” Menders was astonished to hear himself shouting. What the hells was wrong with him, carrying on like a lunatic? He had dealt with pain and serious injury before. He’d risked his life more than once and knew how to control fear, but something about facing a possible dark and uncertain future shattered his composure.

  “All right, I’m not going to try to explain any more, I’m just going to tell you one thing. Do you think that the Queen will keep you as Katrin’s guardian if you go blind? What do you think will happen to Katrin if you’re replaced?” Franz’s voice was cool and controlled.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Menders began to breathe deeply, clenched his fists and then released them.

  “At least we’re of the same mind now,” Franz said. “Ermina’s at the door. Shall I let her in?”

  Menders nodded. The door was unbolted.

  “Here’s the ramplane,” she said shakily. Menders could feel her touching his hand. “Doctor, his hands are ice cold!”

  “Yes, he’s frightened,” Franz said calmly. “Hand me that spoon, would you dear? And leave us alone.”

  When she had gone, Menders heard Franz say, “I don’t want to have to resort to holding your nose and incurring incredible injury from you. I think today you would do better with a dose or two of this, not only for the pain but so you can rest. I don’t know why you’re so terrified, but you are. Perhaps you don’t know why you’re terrified either. It doesn’t matter. This will help you through some of the time.”

  “Through all things, I have always been able to rely on my own resources,” Menders replied, forcing the words through chattering teeth. “But not if I can’t see. The idea terrifies me.”

  “Then do as I say and we’ll see about saving your sight.” Franz tipped the syrup down Menders’ throat. “Now it’s bedtime,” he continued.

  “I can manage to put myself to bed, thank you,” Menders snapped as Franz took his arm when he slid unsteadily to the floor and tried to walk to the office door.

  “You could if you could see.” Franz walked him toward his bedroom.

  Menders could feel the ramplane taking effect. His fear was being replaced by a feeling of simply not giving a damn. Before he knew it, Franz was divesting him of his clothes, festooning him in a nightshirt and pushing him toward the bed.

  “Go ahead,” the doctor said with amusement. “I promise not to tuck you in.”

  “You gave me enough to knock me out, you bastard,” Menders slurred, feeling the ramplane hit him like a hammer.

  “Serves you right for getting belligerent with me. Now, I’m putting an ice pack on your left eye. Leave it there. Lie still or I’ll just shoot you like an old horse.”

  The ice pack was a blessed relief. So was the ramplane. The savage pain was vanishing, replaced by dull throbbing.

  He woke hours later to heat and agony. He raised his hand to his eye and found a horrible swollen lump. Someone pushed his hand away.

  “You mustn’t touch it,” Franz said.

  “Here, darling, here’s some water,” Ermina said on the other side of him.

  He drank gratefully. His mouth was foul and dry. He could feel a crust on his face beneath the injured eye.

  “I’m going to clean your eye and get some medicine into it,” Franz explained. “It isn’t going to be fun, but you have enough ramplane in you to blunt the worst of it.”

  The cleaning was agonizing, though Franz was very gentle. Menders could barely work his uninjured right eye open. When he did, his vision was completely blurred.

  “Both your eyes are infected,” the doctor said quietly. “It’s very bad. Be still now, I have to put the drops in.”

  The drops stung terribly and after a moment Menders could feel them trickling into his nose. Franz gave him a handkerchief and told him to blow gently, that he must not sneeze if he could help it.

  Ermina wiped his face with a wet cloth. Desperate to escape the fever and pain, he swallowed another dose of ramplane and slipped back into sleep.

  This time he dreamed and the dreams were terrible. He could hear Katrin screaming and saw a dark shadow coming close to her while she held out her arms to him and cried. As he reached to lift her away from the darkness, a cane descended on his hand viciously, shattering his bones. Katrin’s screaming grew louder and more frightened and then he jerked awake and realized the screams were his own. Sweat was pouring off him and someone was pinning him to the bed while Franz held his head, calling to him and telling him that he was dreaming.

  He slid back into the darkness to find one of his tutors waiting for him, the one who’d seemed kind at first and who had turned out to be the worst of all. Menders came screaming out of sleep again, fighting against the hands that held him motionless and turned his face into the pillow so he couldn’t breathe and couldn’t fight as the tutor played his painful, sickening games.

  “Menders! You
must lie still!” a distant voice that seemed part of the dream said.

  “The ramplane’s got him off his head, I’ve seen it go through soldiers like that.” The deep voice vibrated in Menders’ ear and he realized that Lucen was holding him securely. He stopped fighting. The two men turned him over. He tried to help, but was as weak as a reed. The sheets and his nightshirt were drenched.

  “Menders, are you with us?” Franz asked.

  “Yes. Sorry,” he whispered.

  “Don’t be. I had no idea you’d have that reaction to the ramplane. Have you ever taken it before?”

  “Small doses, only for pain, not to sleep.”

  “Well, you can’t tolerate it. The fever is making you delirious. It’s broken for now, so you’ll have some time to be lucid. I’ll get some clean sheets and we’ll get that sweat off you.”

  Menders couldn’t see a thing and felt a jab of fear. His hand went to his eyes. They were bandaged.

  “Franz didn’t have a choice, you kept clawing at them,” Lucen said. Menders nodded very slightly. Both eyes and the space between them were enormously hot, heavy and throbbing.

  “Don’t move your head,” Lucen continued gently, his big hand touching Menders’ forehead. “If you need anything, just tell me and I’ll get it for you.”

  “Water,” Menders whispered. After Lucen held the flask for him he asked, “What time is it?”

  “Five in the afternoon. Same day you fell ill.”

  “Katrin?”

  “She’s well, playing with Hemmett up in the nursery. Don’t worry about her, Kata’s with them.”

  The door opened and closed and Menders could smell Franz – a wafting scent of tobacco and medicine.

  “Now, let’s get you civilized again,” he said. With a minimum of fuss Franz and Lucen changed the sheets. Menders’ sodden nightshirt was removed and replaced. Lucen began sponging the sweat from his face.

  “You’re proficient,” Menders breathed.

  “I was assigned to a soldier’s hospital at one time,” Lucen answered. “If you want a bed bath, I’m your man.”

  Menders couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll bear it in mind.”

  “Fair warning,” Franz said. “You’ll have these fevers for a while and a bed bath will be very welcome with enough sweat on you. How’s the pain?”

  Menders was about to minimize it, then simply said, “Awful.”

  “I don’t want to give you more ramplane,” Franz said.

  “I’d rather have the pain,” Menders answered.

  “I’ll do what I can for it. Do you want to see Ermina? Better do it now, because your fever is going to rise again.”

  After Ermina came in, Menders regretted agreeing to see her. She was beside herself with concern. It was more emotional drama than real worry and he ended up having to comfort her when he really only wanted to take whatever Franz could give him and try to escape through sleep. She kept touching him unexpectedly and fussing with his bedclothes, chattering away about nothing after she got over her crying fit. He tried to smile and be cheerful but she made him so nervous that he wanted to scream.

  He wanted to see Katrin, very much. His eye was oozing under the bandage, and he felt as if a wire was being drawn tight around his head. The heat in his face let him know that the fever was rising.

  “Bring Katrin,” he whispered abruptly, cutting Ermina off in mid-sentence.

  “Oh darling, she’s fine, she’s just had dinner and Kata is getting her ready for bed,” Ermina said, adjusting his blanket for the fifth time and unexpectedly touching his forehead, which startled him so that he blinked, sending shooting jabs of pain into his brain.

  “I didn’t ask how she was, I asked to see her,” he said, keeping his voice even. He heard Franz’s footsteps approaching the door, and knew that his voice had carried. His ears were starting to ring and he felt very sick.

  “But love, it’s getting late, and you’ll be able to have her visit tomorrow. Let this be our time…” Ermina began.

  “I want to see Katrin!” Sweat was breaking out on his forehead and he began to tremble.

  “You’re far too ill!” Ermina said bossily.

  “Gods damn it! Don’t tell me what I can’t do! I want my baby!” he shouted.

  “Go get her, Ermina!” Franz said sharply. “Have you no better sense than to argue with someone who is this ill?”

  She began arguing with Franz. Menders felt something snap in his mind.

  “Let me up! I’ll go to her myself, don’t tell me I can’t see her, I want her here! I want my baby!” he roared, fighting against Franz, amazed when he made no headway. He had no strength. He heard Ermina running away.

  “No, no, don’t thrash around!” Franz commanded. “You must lie still! Lucen’s gone for the baby, he’ll have her here in a minute. Here!” He leaned Menders over the side of the bed just before he vomited. “It’s all right, there’s a basin there, let it out.”

  “What will happen to her if I die?” Menders gasped when Franz eased him upright again. “You have to take her if I die. Please don’t let them have her.”

  “Shh. We’re going to do everything we can to keep you from dying but you have to help us. Lie still and try to rest.”

  Menders reached out, viper fast, and seized Franz’s shirt front. “I cannot lose my sight! I cannot!”

  “Like anyone else, you can and you will if you don’t stop fighting me!” Franz yelled.

  Menders let go. “Promise me. Promise that you’ll take her. Take her out of Mordania, say she’s your daughter. Don’t let them have her.”

  “Yes, of course. Calm down. Lucen’s coming with her now.”

  “If anything happens ….”

  “Yes, I’ll take her. You know I’d defend her with my life. Now here she is. Don’t frighten her.”

  Suddenly Katrin was placed in his arms and he felt her patting his face. He held her to him and let himself relax. His head had to be on fire, it burned so.

  “I’m going to give you something for the fever now, it’s going up fast,” Franz said from across the room. “No, you can keep holding her. Just keep holding her. That’s right. No-one is going to take her away. Now, open your mouth for me. It isn’t ramplane. It tastes horrible. I have some water here just as soon as you swallow it.”

  An intensely bitter trickle down his throat and then the blessing of water to wash the taste away. Katrin nestled against him and didn’t try to get him to play. She kept patting him and babbling in a soft little croon.

  “My Little Princess, little Snowflower,” he whispered. The medicine was making him drowsy, but he held her close.

  He woke with a jerk, drenched with sweat. Katrin was gone. With his eyes bandaged he couldn’t tell what time it was. He lay still and listened.

  Someone was in the room. His nose told him it was Lucen, wearing the old jacket he gardened in. Menders could smell soil and mulch. From the sound of his breathing, Lucen was asleep. The house was quiet, no noises from the kitchen, no voices. Menders sniffed. The fires smelled banked. It was late then, possibly past midnight. In the entryway the ticking of the giant old clock was a familiar heartbeat.

  He always checked on Katrin at night. He had every night since she was born. It assured him that she was safe, wanted for nothing, that the nursery was secure and the fire was keeping it warm.

  He sat up, his head throbbing and slid over the side of the bed to the floor. His nightshirt clung to him, drenched with sweat. He was weak and shaky. He’d been fine this morning, had been ready to go and throw logs around. Now he was staggering, as if a wet nightshirt was too heavy for him!

  Lucen didn’t stir as Menders made his way into the hallway. He could find his way around the house at night, even if there was no light at all. A trained assassin could walk a tightrope blindfolded. He would just go up and check on Katrin, then slip back into bed and no-one would be the wiser.

  Halfway down the hallway he collided with a hallstand. It fell with a clang and he
tumbled over as well, landing hard.

  “Grundar shit!” he hissed, trying to untangle himself and the clammy nightshirt from what seemed to be several fire irons and umbrellas.

  “What the hells? What are you doing?” Franz was suddenly there, big hands gently lifting him. “You’re supposed to stay in bed, you blasted idiot, not go crashing around the house like a clumsy ghost!”

  “I need to check on Katrin,” Menders said, feeling with his feet for the scattered contents of the stand before stepping around them and continuing toward the stairs.

  “You mad little bastard, she’s fine, safe in the nursery.”

  “No. I always check on her, always before I go to bed. I can’t not check on her.” Menders heard his voice rising.

  “You are far too ill to go up there,” Franz cried in exasperation.

  “I’m going. I always check on her.”

  “Menders, please listen – look out!”

  ` Menders’ foot had caught something scattered by his collision with the stand. He fell again, more heavily than the first time. All his feline assassin’s grace and agility seemed to have deserted him. Franz swore and was at his side.

  “You’re going back to bed if I have to pick you up and carry you there,” he said angrily.

  Menders wrenched away and heaved himself up, only to step on the hem of the nightshirt and fall again. Completely shaken and disoriented, he groped around him before reaching up to pull the bandage away from his eyes.

  All was dark. He began to crawl. He couldn’t fall again if he stayed down.

  “Gods, you stubborn…” Franz was behind him again. “Here, I’ll help you. Lucen, we’re taking him up to the nursery, there’s no point in fighting with him. We’ll chair lift him.”

  “I can walk!” Menders hissed in a defiant whisper, although his crashing around had probably awakened half the house.

  “I’ve never struck an unarmed and sightless patient before,” Franz snarled, “but by the gods, Menders, you’re tempting me!”

  With their hands under his arms, they supported him up the stairs to the nursery. It was warm - the fire doing its job. It was also quiet. They guided him to Katrin’s crib. He ran his hands over the bars and then down and across her mattress until he felt her, warm, snuggled under her blankets in her little nightgown with the soft lace ruffle at the neck. He straightened the blanket and stroked her hair, then turned to the fire. He sniffed and then held a hand out. It was burning well.