"I don't. Deveren, please. Her name is Allika, though at this moment her name ought to be Miss Needs-A-Spanking." Allika's shrill cries had managed to find that special resonance and volume that engendered real irritation, fond though Deveren was of the child.
"Oh," replied the Blesser, "no child ever needs a spanking, do they, Allika?" The little girl was on the ground now, though still held in Deveren's secure grip. She glared first at the Healer, then up at Deveren.
"Want to spank Fox for holding me like that," she snarled.
Deveren's heart spasmed. He found Vervain looking at him strangely, her eyes wide, one slim hand reaching up to her throat. His gaze locked with hers. He searched frantically for a lie, anything to explain why Allika called him "Fox," but his tongue cleaved to his throat. Why should he be so alarmed? Fox could simply be an affectionate nickname, not the alias of the leader of the thieves of Braedon. Yet he stood, guiltily silent.
"Fox," Vervain breathed at last. "Sweet Health. Come in, the both of you."
"Miss Lally doesn't want to go in," sulked Allika.
"Miss Lally has no choice in the matter if Miss Lally doesn't want her little rag head ripped off."
Allika stared at him, latching on to the undercurrent of annoyance beneath the teasing words, and began to bawl.
Deveren picked her up hastily and hurried inside. The scents alone would have marked this a place of health. It was… clean. Wholesome. Deveren recognized several smells-fresh and drying herbs and flowers, mostly. But there was something else, something fresh and calming that he couldn't quite name. Rushes crunched beneath his feet, giving off their own gentle fragrance as he walked. The stone cottage was bare, almost severe in its lack of ornamentation. But the table upon which Vervain indicated Allika should be placed was covered with soft blankets, and the bench at which Deveren seated himself was comfortable and well made. Something was heating over the hearth fire. Deveren sniffed. That was what was emitted the general smell of cleanliness.
Vervain immediately spied the injury and gently touched the girl's arm. Allika winced and drew back. "Allika, you must let me examine you, or else I won't know how to make the pain go away," reprimanded Vervain in a gentle but stern voice.
Allika looked at her, then ducked her head. "Sorry." Instantly she clutched her abdomen and curled up on the table like a shrimp, wailing in agony. Deveren was by her side at once, trying to get the girl to uncurl.
"What happened?" Vervain moved to the heating cauldron and took a pair of tongs from the mantel. While Deveren replied, she fished out a hot, dripping cloth from the herbed water.
"Eight days ago she got bitten by a rat." To tell, or not to tell? Vervain might think him mad… but she needed to know. Something told Deveren that not all of Allika's sickness was due to the simple pain of an infected rodent bite. "I have reason to believe that the rat wasn't an ordinary creature. Something…" gods, it sounded so foolish, "… something evil."
Vervain shot him a look, but he couldn't decipher it. "Go on."
"My brother and I cleaned the wound and put salve on it. It should have been fine." He glanced down at the little girl. Sweat shone on her pale face, all scrunched up with agony now. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Unable to help himself, he smoothed her black hair. Allika…
"Clearly, it wasn't. Allika, give me your arm." The girl refused, and Deveren had to hold her down while Vervain wrapped the steaming cloth about the ugly wound. "Why do you think it was evil?"
"According to Allika, it was in a box with symbols of warding on it before it was let loose in the sewer. It was twice as large as a normal rat and had the Sword of Vengeance painted on its back. It…"
Vervain's eyes were enormous. Her full lips trembled. "What… what is her name?" she asked. "I told you, Allika."
"No. You are Fox. What is her name?" Vervain's voice was tense, as if it was having trouble escaping from a throat that was squeezed tight with apprehension.
"I don't-"
Across the whimpering girl's body, Vervain grasped Deveren's wrist in a grip that hurt. "Do not lie to me, Deveren. This is more important than you know. What is her name- Crow? Raven? Squirrel? Blackbird?"
Deveren stared open-mouthed. "She… I call her Little Squirrel. But how did you know?" Her hands crept up to her mouth and her eyes squeezed shut against tears. "Vervain…" said Deveren helplessly. First Allika acting strangely, now Vervain.
"I had a dream. A vision," she said at last, attempting to compose herself. "It featured a fox, a little chattering squirrel, and other animals-including a rat. The dream went on to depict the statue of Health weeping tears of blood. The head toppled to the floor, still weeping. It was… horrible. I knew that something dreadful was going to happen, but I didn't know what. Still, I began to prepare- lay aside special herbs, spend more hours resting and in meditation. Now you have come, Fox, with the Little Squirrel. And your enemy is a rat sent by Vengeance."
Deveren's legs felt weak. He groped for the bench and sat heavily. "She's different," he said, more to himself than to Vervain. "She used to be such a sweet little girl. Full of mischief, yes, but not of spite. Now she's angry, and hostile, and… oh, Vervain, I barely recognize her." He looked up at Vervain's tear-streaked face. "Can you help her?" he asked, his voice soft and pleading. "Her life is difficult enough as it is."
"And why is that, Deveren?" asked Vervain with equal softness, as though she already knew. "She's a thief," he replied, his gaze locked with hers. "And so am I." The words came effortlessly, simply. And Vervain merely nodded her understanding.
"I will do what I can. But I am afraid your chattering Little Squirrel may be a harbinger of something terrible- something beyond even a Healer's ability to heal. Remove the cauldron and stoke the fire."
Deveren did as he was told. Using a cloth, he lifted the heavy cauldron off the direct flames, smiling despite the desperateness of the situation as the wonderful fragrance teased his nostrils. He placed two more logs on the low-burning fire and poked it till it sparked and began to crackle. Meanwhile, Vervain undressed the child. Deveren turned to see if he could help.
Allika was like a mad thing, fighting the Healer every inch of the way. "I hate you!" she screamed, and catching sight of Deveren, snarled, "I hate you too, Fox!"
The words were like a blow. Deveren gasped softly. Vervain saw his distress and said, "She is not rational, Deveren. Pay no heed. It is the sickness in her speaking. Come help me get these things off her." As the two of them wrestled with Allika's filthy clothes, reduced finally to literally tearing them off the struggling child, Deveren saw that she was covered with tiny bites. Small insects scurried for the darkness as the warm, concealing clothes were lifted away.
"Poor little thing, she's absolutely crawling with…" the Healer's voice broke off. "Dear gods. Deveren, burn these. Every scrap of clothing that's touched her. We'll have to bum the blankets, too, and perhaps our own clothes."
Deveren didn't understand, but he recognized the Healer's absolute authority in this matter and did not question. He immediately tossed the filthy rags onto the fire. They began to smoke and an oily, unpleasant scent crept into the room.
"Don't burn me!" Allika's shriek of terror ripped Deveren's heart.
"No, child, just your clothes," assured Vervain. "Now we're going to clean you up-make you fresh again, hmmm?"
Allika began to cry. Not the vexed, petulant wails that Deveren had heard before earlier tonight, but deep, heart-wrenching sobs. Deveren held her down, gazing at her white, naked body covered with sores where she'd scratched herself raw. Vervain took another cloth from the pot and began to wash Allika. "Thank Health that my Tenders are home with their families." She spared Deveren a glance. "I was expecting something to happen tonight, you see. And I didn't want my little Tenders caught up in it."