Page 31 of Connal

If only other mortals accepted their fate so easily, Fiacail thought as she rose from the table and went to stand behind the old woman. Resting her hands on her shoulders, she breathed in her scent, and caught a trace of something like rot. The sluggishness of Agda’s pulse and the clamminess of her skin confirmed her suspicions.

“You’re already dying,” she murmured, surprised.

“The healer said before the next moon.” Agda took hold of her hand and placed it against the soft mound of her belly, where a hard knot the size of an apple swelled just beneath the skin. “I watched my mam die of gut rot. She screamed for days and days. My thanks for sparing me the same.”

Fiacail quickly bit her neck, drinking of her blood before she snapped her neck, and caught her before she hit the ballast stone floor. She knelt down and held her, watching her eyes until the last flicker of life died in them. As Agda’s spirit emptied a rush of images poured into her, from the earliest, wordless memory of the old woman as a bairn in gentle arms to the conversation they’d just had. Among the many came the voices of the harbor master and Boec Arasgain, speaking about the MacMar. Those recollections joined all of those Fiacail kept in her head from the very first mortal she had slain.

“You shall ever live in me,” she said, and kissed her brow.

Chapter Ten

After spending the day assisting Duncan with his rounds Valerie had much more respect for medieval medical treatment. The healer had a surprising number of natural herbal remedies for a wide variety of common ailments, and demonstrated considerable experience in treating all types of wounds and injuries. Aside from some perplexing inexperience with young babies, Duncan seemed able to handle anything.

“You must be the equivalent of a naturopathic doctor in my time,” Valerie told him as they went back to the infirmary. “They prefer to treat patients with herbal medicines and homeopathy rather than conventional methods so the body can heal itself. My husband went to one for his indigestion and told me he’d never been better.”

“I cannae speak for other healers, but I learned much from a druid tribe we sheltered for a time long ago.” His steps slowed. “My thanks for your aid today, but you neednae return with me. You should go down for the evening meal.”

“I’m not in any hurry– Hey.” As Duncan suddenly staggered she caught his arm, and saw how pale he’d become. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“We dinnae suffer sickness. I’m but weary.” He forced a smile. “I need only rest.”

“Duncan, you look like you’re ready to pass out.” She put her arm around him and helped him to the infirmary, where she guided him to a stool. Without thinking she put her palm against his damp forehead.

A cacophony of cries and moans and weeping clamored inside her head as Duncan’s pain-filled thoughts streamed through her. He cursed himself for being unable to hide his secret from her, and worried she would say something to the laird or one of the clan. He also needed to throw up, so she grabbed an empty bucket nearby and held it in front of him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Valerie demanded once he’d emptied his stomach.

“’Tis my mortal weakness. When I touch someone ill or hurt, I endure their suffering for a time.” His shoulders hunched. “Close the door, please, my lady.”

By the time she came back to him she could think clearly again. The memory of the pain he carried inside him, however, left her sweaty and shivering, her stomach clenched in a tight knot. They had seen at least thirty people today, and while most had suffered only minor ailments, there had been a shepherd with a broken leg from a bad tumble, and a stable hand who had accidentally rammed a pitchfork tine through his foot while mucking out the stalls.

“You haven’t told anyone about this?” When Duncan nodded she rubbed tears of reaction from her eyes. “Why keep it secret?”

“If the clan learned I suffer the same pain, sickness and fear of anyone whom I touch, they wouldnae permit me work as healer,” Duncan admitted, rising and staggering over to the big mysterious black cabinet, which he opened by doing something to the complicated latch. From it he took out a small bottle, which shook in his trembling hand. “Someone must look after the hurt and sick.”

She took the bottle from him and uncorked it, but she had to hold it to his lips so he could drink. “How long does it take before you recover?”

“’Twill end if I sleep the night.” He started to sway on his feet. “Can you help me to the pallet?”

Valerie got him to the narrow rope bed, and used his tartan to cover him before finding a wool blanket. “What else can I do?”

“Dinnae tell anyone.” His dark blue eyes began to close. “Please, my lady.”

She stood by the pallet until he fell asleep, and then went over to pick up the bottle he’d drank from and sniffed it. It smelled like dirt-flavored alcohol, and she could see some kind of root stuffed inside the bottle. She replaced the cork and glanced at Duncan, who was breathing so slowly now his chest barely moved.

“I’ll just put this back, okay?” She waited for him to tell her not to, and then went over and tugged at the unlocked black doors.

Inside lay dozens of compartments in various sizes, like a giant curio cabinet. Some held bottles, small crocks, and crystals that glittered like jewels, while others had been fitted with little wood and iron doors. A few had small, bleached skulls and skeletons of animals she didn’t recognize, including one that looked like a baby mermaid. At the top ran a long, narrow shelf of cloth-covered objects bound with carved stones strung on some kind of dried vine with wrinkled golden berries. Valerie could smell herbs, salt, and something like rusting copper.

She peered at the neatly-lettered parchment labels Duncan had placed at the top of each compartment, but she couldn’t read the language in which he’d written them. “Is this Fae or something?”

One of the wood and iron doors creaked as it opened, and something inside glowed with a soft blue light that rippled as if reflecting off some water. She bent down to look inside, and the little door slammed shut in her face. A faint wisp of blue and green lights floated around her before winking out one by one.

Behind her the door to the infirmary opened, and as Valerie quickly closed the cabinet Fletcher stepped inside.

“Come with me, lass.” He gestured for her to follow him out into the hall, and once he closed the door he said, “Dinnae fret over him. ’Twill pass by morn.”

Valerie wondered if he’d seen her poking around the healer’s weird collection. “How do you know what happened to him?”