"It's the first time in a hundred years that the Lord of Dark Haven has taken a bride here at the manor," Neirin said, smiling. "Quite an honor for us. And an omen, perhaps, of brighter things to come."
"Right now, the only omen I want is to smell lunch cooking," Carina laughed. "It's just mid-morning, but I'm famished!"
"I'll have the kitchen send up something," Neirin promised. His attention was distracted by a noise near the doorway. A young man pushed through the crowd, still brushing snow from his heavy cloak. He made a low bow when he approached Carina.
"Greetings, Lady Vahanian."
Carina looked at the newcomer. He was slightly built, perhaps a few years younger than herself, with close-cropped reddish-blond hair and a patchy beard. His skin was reddened from the cold, and his cloak was wet with snow. "My name is Adon, from the village of Westormere. They sent me here to see if I could convince you to come back with me. There's a fever taken hold, a bad one. Our hedge witches tried, but they can't do nothing for it, and some of them took sick as well." He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "Please, m'lady, I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm afraid for my village. There were three dead just this morning. There's no one else who can put it right."
"How far away is Westormere?"
Adon raised his head. "Not a candlemark distant, m'lady."
Carina looked at Neirin. "I could be back before sundown. If it's plague, there's no time to waste."
"I'd feel better if Lord Vahanian rode with you. He's out in the fields. Please, m'lady, wait until he gets back. Go in the morning."
Carina looked at Adon. "How many in your village are sick?"
"Almost all, m'lady. My farm's on the very edge, that's why I was well enough to ride. There are about sixty people in the town, m'lady. Might be about a handful that aren't feverish. Please, m'lady. They'll die if you don't come."
Carina looked back to Neirin. "I need to go," she said. "Please, make the people here as comfortable as you can while they wait. I'll be back before sundown."
"Please, Carina, you must take guards with you. Lord Jonmarc would never forgive me if I let you go without protection."
"Fine with me—sounds like I'll have work for them to do when we get there."
Less than a candlemark later, Carina, Adon, and ten of Jonmarc's guards were on the road for Westormere. Bundled in Carina's saddlebags were enough herbs and poultices to treat a wide range of maladies. The snow was deep as a tall man's knees, and even on the road, it was higher than the horses' hocks. Nothing moved in the forest except hares flushed from cover by the sound of their approach.
Though it was not quite midday, no one was about in the streets. Shops were closed and no guard met them at the village edge. Carina heard the bleating of sheep and lowing of cattle unused to remaining all day in their pens, their keepers too ill to take them afield.
"Come with me, m'lady," Adon said, helping Carina down from her horse. "I can take you to the houses of those who are the sickest. Then we can set you up in the tavern great room, and the rest can come to you there. No one's about, so I doubt the tavern keeper will mind."
Carina pressed two of her guards into service carrying her saddle bags of medicines. Four went to patrol the town, and the other four remained close to Carina, walking two ahead and two behind. In this small village, Carina felt embarrassed by the guards' presence, but she knew Jonmarc would angry if she were to go without protection. He would be upset enough when he learned about the trip, she thought resignedly.
Adon knocked at the front door of the first house, a wattle and daub home next to the bakery. A faint groan answered them as they pushed the door open. It was cold inside. The fire had died down to embers, and Carina sent a guard to fetch wood and build up the fire once more. Adon helped her light the only two lamps in the building, and Carina sent another guard in search of lanterns. Huddled in bed were a woman and her two children.
"I'm a healer," Carina said with a smile, hoping to win the woman's trust. "I'm here to help."
The woman and her children were hot with fever, their skin flushed, and their hair matted with sweat.
"It's grippe," Carina said, leaning back once her examination was complete. "Worse than what I've seen up at the manor, but I can help." She beckoned for Adon. "I can't do this alone. For this much healing, I'll need to draw energy from other people. It doesn't hurt and it won't harm you—you'll be a little tired, that's all. Will you permit me to draw from you?"
She saw a flicker of fear in the young man's eyes, then he set his jaw. "Do what you must, m'lady. Most of this village is kin to me. Whatever I have is yours."
Within another half a candlemark, Carina had reduced her patients' fever. The guards, many of whom had seen her heal at Dark Haven, willingly took turns with Adon lending her strength. Carina instructed Adon to warm broth on the fire, and to spoon what their patients could swallow into their mouths to build up their strength. After a time, she sat back on her haunches, grateful for a cup of kerif one of the guards pressed into her hands.
"I'll leave herbs with you," Carina said to Adon, part of the running narrative she kept up with the young man as she worked. "I'll show you how to make teas and poultices, so that you can keep the sickness from going down to their lungs. You've got to keep them warm—bring the sheep and goats into the houses if you need to. The cold will kill them."
In each of the village's small homes she found much the same—a family huddled in bed, wracked with fever, weakened from being unable to rise to get their own food. Fires burned nearly out, patients dehydrated from lack of water. Candlemarks passed and Carina, Adon, and the guards did everything they could to save those not already too far gone. It was not uncommon to find four or five people huddled in bed together, with some too sick to realize that one or more of their bedmates were dead. Carina had the guards wrap the bodies as best they could and carry them outside, storing them in a large woodshed until proper burial could be made.
"Here, eat this," Adon said, pressing a chunk of hard cheese into Carina's hands. She smiled gratefully, aware that the cold winter sun was already high in the sky and that she was beginning to feel lightheaded. "I've never seen a healer who could bring back someone from the arms of the Lady."
"I've had a lot of practice," Carina said, sipping the last of her kerif.
So many of the villagers were near death that the healing went slowly. Carina lost track of time in the dark, smokey houses.
"These are my mother and my two sisters," Adon introduced three haggard-looking women who joined them midday. Carina immediately set the women to work scavenging for root vegetables and dried meat to create a large cauldron of soup on the tavern hearth.
The winter sky glowed red, setting the bare trees in silhouette as Carina finished the last of her patients. Casson, captain of the guards, shook his head, hands on hips, looking at the sunset.
"It's late, m'lady. Too dangerous to ride back to Dark Haven tonight. Lord Jonmarc would have my head if I let you ride through the forest at night."
"You're very welcome to stay here," Adon said quickly. "The tavern keeper is my uncle. There's space enough for the men if they'll sleep two or three to a room, and a room for you, Lady Vahanian. It would be our honor." He grinned. "I shall be your host, minstrel, and servant."
"Bless you," Carina said, feeling her mood lighten for the first time all day. "I accept your hospitality with all my heart!"