(eng) Mercedes Lackey - Valdemar 19 by Oathblood

Author:Oathblood [Oathblood]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Just before nightfall, they finally found shelter of a sort. They took refuge in a ruined barn, with just enough of its roof intact to give a place for all of them to escape the rain. By then, Kethry had more bad news. She was not normally prey to female troubles, but the twisting of her guts and a deep ache just behind her navel told her that this session of moon-days was going to be one of the bad ones....

While Tarma struggled to light a fire, she rummaged in the saddlebags for herbs to ease her cramps. And came up with a sodden mess of paper packets. The seam on the top of the bag had parted, letting water trickle in all during their ride.

Behind her, she heard her partner sneeze.

Sneeze? Tarma? She never—

Sheka,“ the Shin‘a’in swore, her already harsh voice with a decidedly raspy edge to it. Kethry whirled, alarmed.

A tiny fire smoked and struggled to burn already wet wood, and the face Tarma turned up to her partner was red-eyed and red-nosed. The Shin‘a’in sneezed again, convulsively, and sniffed moistly.

“Oh, ell,” Kethry swore. “Oh, bloody hell.”

Tarma nodded, and coughed.

There was nothing for it; wet and sodden as the herbs were, they were all she and her partner had to take care of their ills and the sprained hocks of their horses. She emptied out the saddlebag, carefully; separated the packets of herbs while Tarma tried to find them something dry to change into and started two pots of water boiling on the fire. Herbs for the poultices went right into the wet bandage; for this, at least, it wouldn’t matter that they were soaked. As Tarma bandaged the warsteeds’ sprains, she made two sets of tea, blessing her teachers for forcing her to learn how to distinguish herbs by taste.

And, given that everything else had been going wrong, Kethry made very certain that the metal pots were no closer to the flames than they had to be—and that they were quite dissimilar.

Eventually, Tarma found an odd assortment of dry clothing, most of which was ill-suited to the chill of the air. Still, it was dry, and with enough clothing layered on, they might pass the rest of the night a little warmer, if not in comfort.

The tea, as might have been expected, was lukewarm and weak, but it was better than nothing. And meanwhile, Tarma’s sneezes and coughs grew more frequent, and her guts twisted.

They sipped their tea, nibbled the soaked remains of one packet of their travel bread. Neither of them had the heart to check further to see if the rest of their rations had suffered from the leak.

“Cand you casd some kind ob sbell?” Tarma asked miserably. “Healig, or somedig?”

“Not while I’ve got—cramps,” Kethry replied, pausing for the pain to ease. “Anything I do will backfire. I can’t hold the concentration.”

“Ad I sbose Need wond do anydig, since id’s nod life-threadenig?” Tarma sneezed convulsively, and wiped her nose with a leftover bandage-rag.

“That’s right. I can’t believe this,” Kethry said, teeth clenched against a spasm of her stomach.

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