Desdra swung down the shallow steps of the Hall, saddlebags draped on each shoulder and weighing down her hands. Behind her, two more apprentices as laden as she hurried by. The woman looked as if she had not slept, and her face, usually so bland and composed, was etched with strain and impatience, and heavy with anxiety. I edged around the court, hoping to converge on her path as she began to distribute the saddlebags to the mounted men and women.
"No, no change," I heard her say to a journeyman. "The disease must run its course with Capiam as with anyone else. Use these remedies as symptoms warrant. That is the only advice I have now. Listen to the drums. We'll use the emergency codes. Do not send open messages at any time."
She stepped back as the healers urged their runners out of the court, and I had a chance to approach her.
"Joumeywoman Desdra."
She swung toward me, not identifying me even as one of the Fort Horde.
"I am Nerilka. If the Hall's supplies are drained by the demand, please come to me-" I emphasized that point by touching hand to chest"-for we've enough to physic half the planet."
"Now, there is no need for concern, Lady Nerilka," she began, mustering a reassuring expression.
"Nonsense." I spoke more sharply than I intended, and then she did look at me and see me. "I know every drum code but the Masterharper's, and can guess at that. He's apparently on the mountain road home." I had her full attention now. "When you need more supplies, ask for me at the Hold. Or if you need another nurse…"
Someone called urgently to her, and with a quick nod of apology to me, she walked off. Then the eastern drums began a fresh dispatch of bad news from Keroon. I walked back with the knowledge that hundreds were dying in that tragic Hold, and that four smaller mountain holds did not answer their drum roll.
I was halfway across the Field when I heard the unmistakable sound of a dragon trumpeting. A chill hand clutched at my innards. What could a dragon be doing at Fort Hold -now? I ran back to the Hall. The massive Hold door was wide open, and Campen stood on the top step, his arms half raised in astonished disbelief. A small group of anxious Crafthall Masters and two of the nearer minor holders were grouped below him on the steps; all now turned away from Campen and toward the blue dragon that dominated the courtyard. I remember thinking that the dragon was a trifle off-color. Then all else was forgotten as, incredulous, I watched my father striding up the steps, shoving holder and Craftmaster aside.
"There is a quarantine! There is death stalking the land. Did you not hear the message? Are you all deaf that you gather in such numbers? Out! Out! To your homes! Do not quit them for any reasons! Out! Out!"
He shoved the nearest holder down the steps, toward the runnerbeasts, which the drudges were only just leading to the stablehold. Two Craftmasters stumbled into each other in order to avoid his flailing arms.
In moments, the courtyard was clear of its visitors, the dust of the precipitous departures already settling on the road.
The blue dragon trumpeted again, adding his own impetus to the scrambling retreat of holder and Master. Then he leapt skyward, going between before he had cleared the Harper Hall tower.
Father turned on us all, for my brothers had come to investigate the unexpected arrival of a dragon.
"Have you run mad to assemble folk? Did none of you pay heed to Capiam's warning? They're dying like flies at Ruatha!"
"Then why are you here, sir?" my rather stupid brother Campen had the gall to ask.
"What did you say?" Father drew himself up like a dragon about to flame, and even Campen drew back from the contained fury in his stance. How Campen escaped a clout I did not then understand.
"But-but-but Capiam said quarantine…"
Father tilted his handsome head up, and extended his arms, palms up and outward, to fend off a proximity none of us was at all likely to make.
"I am in quarantine from any of you as of this moment. I shall immure myself in my quarters, and none of you," he said, shaking his heavy forefinger at us, "shall come near me until-" he paused dramatically "-that period is over and I know myself to be clean."
"Is the disease infectious? How contagious is it?" I heard myself asking, because it was important for us to establish that. "Either way I shall not jeopardize my family." His expression was so noble I nearly laughed.
Nor did any of my siblings dare ask further about our mother and sisters.
"All messages are to be slipped under my door. Food will be left in the hall. That is all"
With that, he motioned us aside and stomped into the Hold. We could follow his progress across the Hall and to the stairs by the angry pounding of his boots on the flagstones. Then a sort of muffled sob broke the spell.
"What of Mother?" Mostar asked, his eyes wide with anxiety.
"What of Mother indeed!" I said. "Well, let's not stand here, making a spectacle of ourselves." I cocked my head toward the roadway where small groups of cotholders had gathered, attracted first by the dragon's arrival and then our tableau on the Hold steps.
Of one accord we retired into the Hall. I was not the only one to glance up at the now closed door to the first level.
"It isn't fair," Campen began, sitting down heavily in the nearest chair. I knew that he meant Father's early return.
"She'd know how to cure us," Gallon said, fear in his eyes.
"So do I, for she trained me," I said curtly, for I think I knew then that Mother would not return. And it was also important for the family not to panic or give any show of apprehension. "We're a hardy lot. Gallon. You know that. You've never been sick in your life."
"I had the spotted fever."
"We all had that," Mostar said derisively, but the rest of them began to relax.
"He oughtn't to have broken quarantine, though," Theskin said very thoughtfully. "It doesn't set a good example. Alessan ought to have kept him at Ruatha."
I wondered about that, too, although Father can be so overbearing that even Lords older than himself have given way to his wishes. I didn't like to think that Alessan was ineffective, even if he had courteously deferred to Father's wishes. Quarantine was quarantine!
That night I fell easily into an exhausted sleep but, too restless to sleep well, I awoke very early again. It was so early, in fact, that none of the day staff was about his duties, and I picked up the note tucked under my father's door. I nearly tore it up when I'd read the message. Oh, the stock of febrifuges he wanted, and the wine and food staples were understandable, but he instructed Campen to bring Anella, and "her family" as he put it, into the safety of the Hold. So he would leave my mother and sisters in danger at Ruatha yet ask his oldest son and heir to bring his mistress to safety? And the two children he had sired on her.
Oh, it was no scandal really. Mother had always ignored the matter. She'd had practice over the Turns, and indeed once I had overheard her say to one of the aunts that relief now and then from his attentions was welcome. But I didn't like Anella. She simpered, she clung, and if Father couldn't pretend interest in her, she was quite as happy on Mostar's arm. Indeed, I think she hoped to be wed to my brother. I longed to tell her that Mostar had other ideas. Still, I wondered if her last son was my father's issue or Mostar's.
I chided myself for such snide thoughts. At least the child had a strong family resemblance. With my belt knife, I separated the slip of hide into its two messages and slid Campen's portion under his door. I bore the discreet half down to the kitchen where sleepy drudges were folding up their pallets before starting their chores. My presence provoked tentative smiles and some apprehension, so I smiled reassurances and told the brightest of the lot what to put on Lord Tolocamp morning tray.