Nerilka's Story (7 page)

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, calloused, 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 Tuero 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.”

“Good to hear, lord, good to hear.” Sal’s words were directed more to the runners than to Alessan.

“But—” Alessan grinned apologetically to the two men “—before we can start collecting blood for the serum, we have to have a clean and totally uncontaminated place in which to work.”

Pol began rolling up his sleeve. “There isn’t much my brother and I wouldn’t do to help you, lord. We’ve scrubbed before, we can scrub again.”

“Good then,” Alessan said with a grin. “Because if we don’t do it right the first time, journeywoman Desdra will make us do it all over again until we have! She’ll be here tomorrow to check on our labors.”

When we reached the courtyard before the Hold door, Tuero, a man named to me as Deefer, five fosterlings, and four of the convalescent farm holders were constructing a strange device from cart wheels.

“We’ll have several of these centrifuges with which to separate the miracle serum from the blood,” Alessan told us. The brothers nodded as if they knew exactly what he was talking about, though some confusion and surprise showed on Sal’s face.

Oklina met us in the Hall, leading out the procession of drudges with their buckets of hot water, cleaning rags, and brooms. She carried containers which I recognized as those generally used to store the strong cleaning fluid. We all rolled up our sleeves and I noticed that Alessan’s hands were red already, though there was only a fainter tinge of red on his upper arms. Then we all set to scrubbing.

We scrubbed until the glowbaskets were lit, scrubbed even as we munched with meatrolls in one hand and tried to ignore the faint taste of astringency that the overpowering aroma of redwort invariably gave to anything in its vicinity. We scrubbed until the first sets of glowbaskets had to be replaced.

Alessan had to shake me several times before I left off the scrubbing motion and realized that the others had quit this labor. “You’re all but asleep and still scrubbing, Rill,” he said, but he spoke with such a kind sort of raillery that I gave him a rueful grin.

I had barely enough energy to follow Oklina up the stairs to the first-story inner room that she assigned me. I remembered that I bade her good-night as I closed the door. I knew I should plan a few words to say to Desdra on her arrival the next day, so that she would not expose me as Tolocamp’s mutinous daughter, but the moment I fell across the bed, I fell asleep.

Chapter VIII

3.21.43–3.22.43

I
WOKE, STARTLED
, as people do at finding themselves in a strange place, and had to reassure myself that I was not back in my room at Fort Hold. It was silence that I heard so palpably, a silence that confused me more than did the slightly strange surroundings. Then I isolated the difference—no drums at all. I rose and dressed, and began my first full day at Ruatha.

I was in the Hall, drinking klah and eating a quick breakfast of porridge when Desdra arrived on Arith. We all went out at the commotion for the little dragon was once again draped with many bottles, the large apprentice size and the smaller ones for the all important serum.

I had no chance to speak with Desdra, for Alessan singled me out with the two brothers and took us off to the field to begin the next step in making the serum.

Either the animals were apathetic from their recent illness or they had been well-handled, so we were each able to lead in two at a time. A second and third trip filled all the stalls in the beasthold, then Alessan demonstrated how to draw blood from the neck vein. All the creatures kindly submitted to this bloodletting. Sal and I began to work as a team, and when I saw that he had little stomach for inserting the needle-thorn, I took over that job as he held each runner’s head.

It was full noon before we had finished with the twenty-four beasts. After each drawing, the blood was decanted into the great apprentice jars, then transported to the Hall and secured onto the cartwheel centrifuges. Though I was not the only one dubious about the device, much less the process, Desdra’s attitude towards the manufacture was so reassuringly calm that we didn’t question anything. As soon as she had checked the fastenings, she motioned the crews of men to begin spinning the wheels. The men changed places at the flywheels frequently, always keeping the speed of the whirling at the same pace. I thought briefly what a mess one loose jar could make of the Hall, and all our cleaning to be done again, and then decided that such ruminations were unsuited to the general air of hope and industry in Ruatha.

Oklina passed among us then, with a hearty soup and warm bread rolls. When Desdra finally joined us, many of us crammed at one long trestle table and others leaning against the walls, she explained the urgency of our monumental task. Only a mass and instantaneous inoculation of threatened runners would prevent the plague from recurring. Everyone in Ruatha Hold would have some part in this enterprise, for the plague must not be permitted to have a second chance at decimating the continent. The news created a hushed silence.

While awaiting the results of the first batch, Pol, Sal, and I went back to the beasthold to see how our patients did. Dag was already mixing them a hearty meal of warmed bran with a fortified wine and some herbs, which the old handler said would strengthen the new blood. Then we groomed them well, taking the mud and burrs from their tails and manes.

Despite his splinted right leg, Dag worked right along with us. What he couldn’t do for himself was accomplished by his grandson, a rascally, impudent, possessive lad named Fergal. He seemed suspicious of everyone, especially of Alessan when the lord came to see how the beasts had stood up to the bloodletting. The only person whose bidding Fergal would ever do without quibble was Oklina. Every other order he contested with questions that were sheer impudence. Dag, he adored. Obviously he thought the bandy-legged little runner handler could do no wrong. But, for all his insolence, Fergal was patently dedicated to the beasts. A very pregnant mare took most of his caring; swollen though she was in the last days of gestation, she had a way of cocking her head, ears pricking forward and whuffling at Fergal in a manner I thought most ingratiating.

“The first batch should be done soon,” Alessan announced suddenly.

I was amused that, of the group working with the beasts, Fergal and I were the only ones eager to see the result. Pol and Sal ensconced themselves on bales for a comfortable chat with Dag, politely declining the invitation to see the finished serum.

What startled me was the odd straw-yellow fluid that was the product of this centrifugal process. By the time we got to the Hall, Desdra was already drawing it from one jar, explaining how this should be done without stirring up the darker residue. Under her direction, we tentatively began to imitate her, drawing the clear fluid from the jar, placing it in the glass bottles, using a clean needlethorn with each insertion to reduce the possibility of contamination. Ruthlessly, Desdra employed everyone at the Hall at this task, even three of the strongest convalescents, constantly moving among us to oversee the task.

“We should have more bottles this afternoon,” Tuero told us. He meant to be cheerful but was rewarded by groans from all the workforce. “M’barak said he’d pass the word of our need during Fall.”

“How much of this junk do we gotta have?” Fergal asked. He glanced out toward the fields where his beloved runners grazed.

“Enough to inoculate the mares and foals of the remaining herds in Keroon, Telgar, Ruatha, Fort, Boll, Igen, and Ista,” Alessan said. I stifled a groan at the quantities that would be required.

“Ista doesn’t breed runners. It’s an island,” Fergal said belligerently.

“It suffered the plague, man and beast,” Tuero said when Alessan did not reply. “Keroon and Telgar are also producing this serum, so Ruatha doesn’t have to do it all.”

“Ruatha has that much, at least, to give Pern,” Alessan added, as if no other comments had been made. “We will insure that the best possible serum comes from our beasts. Let us return to our tasks.”

And so we persevered. Those who had not fully recovered were put to sitting at sinks to scrub glassware or securely stopper the serum bottles and insert them in reed holders. The youngest became messengers or, in pairs, carefully carried crates of serum down to the cool rooms.

My job was bleeding runners. It was almost a relief to leave the pervading stench of redwort to bring my patient-victim back to the field and collect another one. At least I had some fresh air. Dag had started marking the bled ones with paint so we wouldn’t inadvertently get two lots from the same beast. None of them were strong enough for that. My frequent walks also gave me a chance to observe ruined Ruatha, as Alessan called it. I could see that only a little time and effort would be required to put a lot of the ruin to rights, and I worked out the strategy going to and fro, planning all that I would do if I had the right to meddle in Ruathan affairs. A harmless enough pastime, to be sure.

The drums had begun midmorning, telling us what quantities were needed and which dragonriders would collect what amounts. Alessan explained that the quantities had to be listed accurately, but he really couldn’t spare Tuero to listen to drum codes.

“Then have Rill do it,” Desdra said bluntly.

“Can you understand drum messages, Rill?” Alessan asked, somewhat surprised. I had been taken so unaware that I couldn’t answer. I had even begun to think that Desdra had not recognized Tolocamp’s daughter in grimy, sweaty, short-haired Rill.

“And probably the codes as well, isn’t that right, Rill?” Desdra was quite ruthless, but at least she did not explain to anyone how she knew so much about my unmentioned skills. “She can fill serum bottles between messages. She needs a bit of sit-down time. She’s been going full pelt for some days now.”

I took that to mean that Desdra approved of my labors here and at the internment camp and was permitting me my whimsy. Fortunately, not even Alessan questioned how a drudge who had risen to volunteer healer understood such arcane matters. But I was indeed grateful for the chance to sit down. How Alessan kept up his level of energy, I do not know. I could see why Suriana had admired as well as adored him. He deserved respect, and he had mine for new reasons at every turn. I could also perceive that he was driven. Somehow, despite all the brutal odds against him, Alessan was going to restore Ruatha Hold, repeople its vacant holds, restock its empty fields. I wanted to stay on here, and help him.

I was also discovering that once back in a formal Hall, I automatically assumed familiar responsibilities, such as ordering drudges to tasks or explaining how to do a job more efficiently. Fortunately, no one questioned my right to do so when it was all in the best interest of the work at hand.

Despite a deceptively frail appearance, Oklina worked as hard as her brother, but the sheer press of her obligations appalled me, who had always had sisters to ease burdens. Whenever I could, I lent her a hand. She wasn’t a pretty girl, which the uncharitable might say was one reason I related to her so easily, for the dark complexion and strong features that became a man suited her no better than my family resemblance suited me. But she was an exceptionally graceful young woman, with a charming smile and great, dark, expressive eyes in which lurked a sort of secret bemusement. I often caught her gazing toward the northwest and wondered if she had fallen in love with some young man. She would make an excellent holder’s wife, young though she was, and I devoutly hoped that Alessan would not require her to remain at Ruatha, but would settle her with a kind and generous man. Ruatha might be poverty-stricken now, but the prestige of the Bloodline was still undisputed. Nor would this altruistic labor on the serum, so willingly undertaken by Alessan and Oklina, reduce them in the estimation of their peers.

And so we worked on, turning from one urgent and necessary task to another, ladling a quick cup of soup from the pot simmering on the main hearth, or chewing from a hunk of fresh bread in a free hand and a spare moment. From somewhere, fresh fruit had appeared—one of the dragonriders was dropping off supplies. Why ripe melon slices would cause Oklina’s eyes to tear, I could not then fathom. I doubted that she was so moved by the thoughtfulness behind the gift. Then I noticed that Alessan regarded the fruit with a soft smile of reminiscence, but he was off to work again so quickly, bread in one hand, the melon slice in the other, that I could have been wrong. Then another message came in, and I had to listen to record the message accurately.

Time had lost all order in the press of work. On my third day at Ruatha, all but a few of us had gone outside to eat a delayed and well-deserved evening meal when suddenly Alessan, Desdra, and Tuero, consulting the maps, lists, and charts, gave out whoops of exultation.

“We’ve done it, my loyal crew!” Alessan shouted. “We’ve got enough! And enough over the requirement to take care of any spillage and breakage in dispatching. It’s wine all round! Oklina, take Rill and get four flasks from my private store.”

He tossed her a long slim key, which she caught deftly in midair. She grabbed my hand and, laughing with delight, hauled me to the kitchen and then on down to the stores, beyond the cold room.

“He is really pleased, Rill. He rarely parts with bottles of his own store.” She giggled again. “He guards them for a special purpose.” Then her charming little face saddened. “And I hope he will again,” she added cryptically. “He must soon in any case. Here we are.”

When she had unlocked the narrow door and showed me the racked flasks and wineskins, I gasped in astonishment. Even in the dim light from the glowbasket down the corridor, I could see the distinctive Benden flask. Quickly I dusted off a label.

“It
is
Benden white,” I cried.

“You’ve had Benden white wine?”

“No, of course not.” Tolocamp would not have approved of his daughters drinking rare vintages; the foxy Tillek pressings were good enough for us. “But I’ve heard about it.” I managed to giggle. “Is it really as good as they say?”

“You can judge for yourself, Rill.”

She locked the door again, then relieved me of half the burden.

“Did you finish your training at the Healer Hall, Rill?”

“No, no.” Somehow I could not lie to Oklina even if it meant demeaning myself in her eyes. “I volunteered to help nurse, as I wasn’t needed any longer in my own Hold.”

“Oh, did your husband die of the plague?”

“I have none.”

“Well, Alessan will see to that. That is, of course, if you wish to stay on in Ruatha. You’ve been such a help, Rill, and you seem to understand a great deal about Hold management. I mean, we shall have to start all over again, so many of our people died. There are many holds empty, and while Alessan is going to approach the holdless in hopes that some are suitable, I’d rather have a few people about us whom we already know and trust. Oh, Rill, I’m putting this so badly. But Alessan asked me to sound you out about staying on here at Ruatha He has great respect for you. You have been such a help. Tuero—” Oklina giggled again “—plans to stay, no matter how he and Alessan go on about the salary and perks.”

That discussion had been running between harper and Lord Holder whenever they passed each other or worked on a common chore. Tuero had come to the Gather with other harpers to assist the Hold’s regular harper, another victim, as were Tuero’s companions. I couldn’t imagine Ruatha Hold without Alessan and Tuero bickering in the most amiable fashion.

When we returned to the Main Hall, the men had stacked some of the cartwheels and the large jars back against the wall. Alessan and Tuero were clearing space on the trestle table, where we had been consuming our hasty meals. Dag and Fergal came up from the kitchen with the stew; Deefer brought plates and cutlery; Desdra had an armful of bread loaves and a huge wooden bowl full of fruit and cheeses, including the one forwarded by Lady Gana I wouldn’t have thought that that would have lasted past my bringing it here. Follen arrived with the cups and the cork pull.

Outside I could hear the subdued revelry of the others who had now been released from their unremitting labors of the past two days.

So it was only the eight of Alessan’s loyal crew, an odd assortment to sit down at any table for any meal, but the knowledge of an almost impossible task timely completed made companions of us all, even Fergal. He refused a cup of wine with an insolence that I’m certain Alessan excused only because the boy had worked so hard. I’d wager that Fergal was as knowledgeable about such restricted treats as anyone else here. Fergal’s sort is born knowing. In spite of his impudence and suspicious nature, I did like the boy.