Page 70 of Queen of the Shadow

“Take her out of here and lock her somewhere.” Scáthach handed Aife to Uathach. “Then please find Cuchulainn some clothes and return.”

Uathach nodded and clamped a hand around Aife’s arm, taking her from the room. Scáthach waited until the door closed behind her daughter before she lit the half dozen candles in the standing iron candelabrum near the bed, stoked the fire, and then found a pitcher of clean water on a dressing table. She lifted it to pour into the wooden mug beside it but hesitated and sniffed the mug first. The scent was terrible, so acrid that it stung her eyes. She tossed the cup into the hearthfire.

In a large wooden chest, she found clean nightdresses and tore a strip from one of them. Then she took the pitcher and the strip of fabric to the bed.

Cuchulainn lay on his side, his back to her. His legs were drawn up to his chest. Shivers still shook him periodically, but not as violently as before. He’d stopped retching. Scáthach sat on the bed pallet beside him.

“Sentanta, it’s me.”

His body jerked at the sound of her voice. “No. That’s a lie.”

“Look at me, Sentanta.”

He shook his head. “No. I saw you. Before.”

“You did not seeme.” She spoke calmly, in a matter-of-fact way as if they discussed nothing more stressful than the weather. “Aife drugged you. I suspect you also have a serious head wound. Those two things together made you believe you saw me, but I only just arrived.” She touched his back. He trembled under her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

Slowly, he turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder. She was shocked at how pale and sweaty he was, and how wide and wounded his eyes were.

“It’s really you?”

“Does anyone else call you Sentanta?”

“Only the Queen of Shadow,” he said.

She smiled. “You can call me just Scáthach.”

He started to smile and then his face crumbled. Tears leaked silently from the corners of his eyes to mix with the sweat that slicked his face. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “You are notjustanything.” He rolled over to face her, grimacing as he sat. He quickly swiped a hand across his face. “Amage and Tabiti, did they get away?”

“They did. A local healer is tending Amage. Tabiti led the charge into the fort to rescue you.”

His eyes darted around the room and his breathing increased. “Tabiti? Is she here?”

“No, Sentanta. It is only me.” She lifted the pitcher. “You should drink this. I’d pour it into a cup, but the only one in the room is tainted.”

His hands shook so much, she had to help hold the pitcher to his lips. He drank greedily until she gently took it from him.

“It might make you sick again if you drink too much at one time.” Scáthach dipped the strip of cloth into the pitcher, wrung it out, and then asked, “May I touch you? May I clean your wounds?”

He nodded once.

“I’m going to check your head first. I can see one wound there, just above your right temple.” She pointed to it and the trail of crusty blood that had mixed with sweat and tears and stained the side of his face rust. Gently, she felt his head. He sucked in a sharp breath when she found a blood-scabbed cut on the back of his head. There was another egg-sized swollen spot above that wound but it hadn’t bled. “Not too bad,” she told him as she began to clean the blood from his face. “It’s a good thing your head is so hard.”

Cuchulainn closed his eyes as she washed his face. “Will Amage recover?” he asked.

“Yes. She had a single arrow wound in the back of her leg. Unlike your spear wound, the tip of the arrow was not covered in shit.”

He almost smiled. “Fortunate for her.”

“Exactly.” She glanced at the furrowed wound atop his shoulder, surprised to see it had been cleaned and coated with salve. “Were you wounded anywhere else except your shoulder?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. Then almost inaudibly he added, “My wrists. They were bleeding.”

His wrists were lacerated, still seeping blood. She dunked the cloth into the pinkened water. She cleaned the nasty rope wounds as she talked to him. “Leannan was distraught when Tabiti returned to camp without you. She will be glad to see you.”

He opened his eyes then. “Is she here? At the fort?”

Scáthach smiled and reached for his other wrist. “No. She’s back at our camp in the woods. I don’t allow her to go into battle. I don’t want to risk her.”