The Blight of Muirwood

“Be gentle,” Colvin warned, carrying the tray over.

Pasqua took Lia’s good hand with both of hers. “Look at you, child.” She swept part of her hair back and caressed her cheek. “When that filthy man carried you up the hill, you looked a corpse though you were breathing. So much blood and injury. I do not think I can bear to let you out of my sight again, hunter or no. Are you hungry? Can I feed you?”

“Just the broth,” Siara said. “Anything stronger she may not be able to handle. Broth first. How is your pain, Lia? Do you need more valerianum to help you sleep?”

Lia shook her head violently. “No, I do not want to sleep.” She looked at Colvin, her heart aching with the thought of him leaving with Ellowyn in the morning.

“You need rest,” Siara said. “But even more, you need friends with you. Should we move you to the kitchen? There are many who want to see you.”

Lia wanted to see everyone, but she also wanted to be alone with Colvin. Maybe her conflict showed on her face, for she saw him approach with the tray and set it down. “I am not leaving your side until dawn.” He touched Pasqua’s shoulder deferentially. “With your permission of course.”

Pasqua looked up at him grudgingly and then nodded.

Lia sighed, her thoughts painful. She nodded at him as well.

Colvin pulled away the coverlet and gently scooped Lia into his arms. Even the slow and tender motion made her wince with pain, but she clenched her jaw to keep from crying out and tried to breathe through her nose as he started to walk. The kitchen was a short distance and Siara Healer led the way to pull open the doors while Pasqua followed with the tray. Lia rested her head against Colvin’s cheek as he tried not to jostle her. The pale sky was turning black outside, the smell of the sea hinted in the air. There were knight-mastons walking the grounds with torches, patrolling the borders, keeping them safe. A feeling of protection had settled over the Abbey. All was calm and quiet.

The smell of the kitchen greeted her and she blinked with the light and the rush of voices and sounds. Pasqua’s bed had been installed beneath the awning of the loft and barrels and chests and baskets had been relocated elsewhere in the room. She saw Pen-Ilyn sitting on a bucket with a tray of sambocade in one hand, shoveling the dessert into his mouth like a starving soul. He smiled and nodded at her, hurrying even faster now that Pasqua had returned. Colvin crossed the tiles to the bed and helped set her down after Sowe turned the sheet and stacked up the pillows.

Sowe took her hand, smiling warmly and then kissed her. Edmon was her shadow. His face was drawn and pale. He had the look of a slight fever about him and he moved with a visible wince.

“I am surprised to see you on your feet so soon, Edmon,” Lia told him, giving him a look of compassion.

“Not as surprised as I am. Sowe could have been a healer instead of a cook. Blue woad is an amazing plant though the skin around the wound is a little blue, but the bleeding stopped at least. And I will have a lovely scar where Dieyre stabbed me. I am sure I will never tire of telling the story of how I got it.”

Lia sighed, seeing the flash of old humor in his eyes. “You are lucky to be alive.”

His eyes became serious. “I do owe that to you in a way, Lia. Forgive me, but my emotions are a bit close to the surface, seeing you like this. Seeing what you have suffered. I can bear my lot. But it grieves me to see you in such pain. I lost what I was going to say…”

Sowe gave him a bashful look and prompted him, “How you survived. How Marciana saved you.”

“Ah, there it is. It is a short story. Do not worry – I will not make it longer in the telling, but I wanted you to know. When you and Colvin left on the boat, Dieyre wasted no time and drew his sword and said he would take Ciana with him. I was shocked and angry, though I should not have been. I was a fool thinking I could stop him and Ciana for trying to stop me, but I am rash, as you know. He disarmed me with hardly any effort, a fact which still wounds my pride. He cut me here,” he gestured to his torso with a wince, “and then smashed his fist into my face to knock me down and I am certain he was going to run me through and murder me. Colvin had told me that in the Bearden Muir when the sheriff’s men attacked him, that you stood in the way. Well, Marciana protected me with her own body and spoke so earnestly with Dieyre that she talked his temper down. He made her swear she would go with him peacefully if he did not slay me. I could see he was tempted. His eyes told me that he wanted me dead. But I was bleeding and maybe it was good enough. Maybe he thought I would just bleed to death. Ciana honored her part and rode off with Dieyre. I managed to stuff a rag into my wound and lurch on the road. The Medium saved me then, for I found a horse – one of the strays from the Dahomeyjans and rode to Muirwood. A great big black. Beautiful animal. I do not know how I made it on the saddle, but I did and collapsed outside the gate and was carried here.” He reached out and stroked Sowe’s hair absently.