Ghost's Dilemma Page 4

  The illness was elusive, not an ordinary stomach flux at all. The malady was not tied to what was eaten, and the fever was wound around the stomach disorder in a way Ghost had never seen. He felt the increased warmth against his forehead, and he tried to look a little deeper, but whatever this illness was, it skittered just past where he could See.

  Ghost let go of Merrah and turned his head to Mai. "Do you think you could warm some water? I have something I'd like to try. First, I want to do something about this fever."

  Ghost opened his pouch and took out the Seeker's kiss. He twisted the tube until he heard two clicks and turned to Merrah.

  "This will sting a bit, but the serum goes right to the fever and the soreness." Ghost waited for the tired nod that gave him leave to proceed, and he pressed the glowing top of the Seeker's kiss, the tip against Merrah's arm. Merrah didn't even flinch, but she closed her eyes and Ghost could see the tension at the corners of her mouth ease.

  "Rest a moment and I'll make an infusion for you." Ghost stood, putting the Seeker's kiss back in his pouch. "Don't give up, Merrah. Mai needs you for a while yet." He felt the tingling behind his spiral, and he heard the ring of truth in his words. "There'll be a time to rest, but this isn't the time."

  Merrah didn't open her eyes, but she chuckled, a dry rasp in her throat. "You're as bad as the little girl who left. She liked a drop of blood, though. You've got kinder hands." She lifted her own thin and wrinkled hand from the bed. "Go make your tisane with the child. I'll stay."

  Ghost left the bedroom, already reaching in his pouch for the two pottery jars. In the kitchen, Mai's shoulders hunched inward as she heated the water. She didn't turn around, and Ghost realized she was weeping.

  He never quite knew how to comfort someone, and Ghost stood still for a moment. The Witch had rarely offered an embrace, leaving Ghost with little in the way of an example. All he had to rely on was instinct and what he had learned from the comfort of Gerry's arms. He placed the pottery jars on the scrubbed table and touched Mai's shoulder, hesitant.

  Mai turned, her face wet with tears. She stepped into Ghost's arms, put her face into his shoulder, and shook with silent sobs. Ghost held her, only a little awkward, making soft noises he hoped would soothe the grieving woman. He let her weep for a bit before he spoke.

  "I'm not sure what this illness is. I know what's happening to her, and I can do what I can for the symptoms, but I don't know the why of the malady." Ghost paused, patting Mai's back with a gentle hand. "The Seeker's kiss will help with the fever and aches. The infusion will settle her stomach and also help the fever. Once she's managed to keep down two cups of the mixture, she can have broth and bland foods. Eggs cooked soft, if you have them."

  Mai's voice was barely a whisper. "Thank you, Ghost. You're very kind. It means more to me than I can say." Her voice nearly broke, and she turned and reached for a clean cup, taking a ragged breath. "Show me what to do for her."

  Ghost patted Mai's shoulder. "This jar, with the blue wax. One pinch, like this." He pinched the herbs between his thumb and first finger and sprinkled the pinch in the cup. "This is for the fever, mostly. The jar with the red wax is for the stomach. The infusion's going to be strong, but with a little honey, it will taste pretty good. Two pinches of this one and then the hot water. Let the cup sit until you can smell the herbs, and add a little honey."

  "Merrah doesn't like food to be too sweet, and she takes her drinks good and hot," Mai said. "So, let's bring this medicine to her and see if she can keep it down."

  Ghost let Mai carry the infusion, and he watched as she held the cup for Merrah, her manner tender and loving as she fed her dam small sips until the cup was empty. Ghost could see the tension in Mai's shoulders. A clean bucket and soft cloth sat nearby in case Merrah needed to purge. But the moments passed, and Merrah leaned back against the pillows.

  Mai looked over her shoulder and gave Ghost a tiny smile. She turned back to Merrah and smoothed the blanket over the old woman. "You feel a bit cooler," Mai said. She took one wrinkled hand between her own two hands.

  "The medicine's sitting easy, child," Merrah said. "The drink wasn't too nasty, either." She looked up at Ghost with her bright bird's eyes. "A male witch. Such wonders I've seen with these old eyes. Now go, and fuss over someone who really needs you, little Ghost."

  Mai smiled, much stronger this time. "You're worth fussing over, and you know so, Merrah. You've fussed enough over me and my babes too. Now's just my turn." She stroked the old woman's hand before she stood. "I'll see Ghost out and I'll be back."

  At the door, Mai appeared relieved. "Thank you. Truly. If she can keep the medicine down and another one in a bit, I'll give her some broth. I'll get eggs for her too. Will you stop back and see her?"

  "I will," Ghost promised. "I'll stop tomorrow after high sun. But if you need me sooner, come for me."

  ***

  The following afternoon, Mai told Ghost how Merrah had managed broth the night before and soft-cooked eggs this morning. The fever was down and Merrah's color was better. Ghost was no closer to knowing why Merrah had fallen ill, but relieving the symptoms seemed to help her start to mend. Ghost left after telling Mai to keep up the infusion three times daily until she ran out of herbs and to come for him if Merrah took a bad turn. Mai would be quick enough to come, he decided. Ghost was gratified to have been of help, even if he had only treated the symptoms.

  A pang of longing and an urgent need to see Gerry overcame Ghost, and he quickened his pace to get home. As he passed the old oak tree marking the entrance to the market street, a shrill scream from a house to his right drew his attention. He ran to the building without stopping to think and pushed open the door.

  A young woman bent over an elderly man lying supine on the floor of the kitchen. Ghost needed only a glance to see the man was dead, his lips already blue beneath smears of dried blood. The house reeked of illness, and the young woman who sobbed over him appeared disheveled and exhausted. She looked up at Ghost, her eyes focused on the spiral of stones on his forehead.

  "He was fine. He was fine!" She sobbed and clutched the dead man's tunic. "He had a fever, and he vomited, but he was getting better. I was sure of it. Then he started to vomit again, blood this time. I don't know why he got up. I heard the crash. It's not fair! He was fine!"

  Ghost reached down to lift her to her feet. "Hush, come away. He was your alpha?"

  "I don't know what will happen to me now. I don't know what to do," the young woman sobbed.

  "The elders will decide," Ghost replied, feeling awkward in the face of her storm of tears. He looked around at the untidy kitchen, wondering if this chaos was normal or if the young woman had been overwhelmed by caring for the elderly man. "I'll ask my alpha to speak with them on your behalf. What was his name?"

  The young woman seemed baffled by Ghost's question. "I need to get him off the floor. He doesn't belong down there. The stones are too cold for him." She dropped to her knees again, and her hands fluttered over the body.

  "Let me help you," Ghost insisted. "I can carry him to his room if that's what you want. Do you want me to get someone to take him to be buried for you?"

  "No, leave him. I'll call the guard," she said, a fresh sob shaking her shoulders. "I'll take care of him. Thank you, good witch."

  Ghost turned to leave, but her soft voice stopped him. "If I had called you, would he have lived?"

  Ghost sighed. "I don't know. Why do you want to add such weight to your grief?"

  "Because I thought about coming for you and I didn't. He said he was fine." Her sobs broke out again and Ghost paused.

  "I don't know if I should leave you like this," he admitted, wondering if he was missing some subtle signal. "Is there anyone who can help you?"

  She shook her head. "Half this street is down with the vomiting and fever. Mostly the older ones, and the littlest ones. Hasn't anyone come to you about the sick?"

  Ghost was taken aback by her words. "What do you mean? How many peo
ple have fallen ill?" A curious pressure warmed his spiral, not quite the push of a vision, but more than the mild tiredness from having exerted his abilities for Merrah's sake.

  "I don't know. I haven't gotten out in the past two days. I was so tired, and he was better. I was trying to rest. And then the new vomiting started." Her forlorn voice drew Ghost back to her side.

  "I saw Merrah. Mai's dam. Do you know her?" Ghost asked.

  "I do. Did she have this? The fever and the purging and then the bloody vomiting?"

  Ghost's thoughts were racing. He'd heard of illnesses that could spring up out of nowhere and spread like a wildfire, leaving far too many dead in their wake. The prospect of losing his village to a virulent outbreak made Ghost's stomach clench. He straightened up, looking down at the girl. "Merrah had fever and purging but not the bloody vomit. What about you? Were you ill?"

  She peered up at Ghost, red-eyed and teary. "I felt poorly for a day and purged a few times, but then I was fine. What does it mean?"

  "I don't know yet. I need to leave and find out what's happening. I'll come back in the morning to check on you. I want to ensure you don't get sick like your alpha. Are you sure you'll be all right staying here?"

  The girl ducked her head and stood, moving as though she ached all over. "I have nowhere to go."

  "I'll talk to my alpha. We'll make sure you have a place. Gerry can speak for you with the elders, and he'll be glad to help."

  "Go find out, because there's too many getting sick now. He was fine, I know it. This shouldn't have happened to him." The girl's haunted eyes tore at Ghost's heart. "He was all I knew."

  ***

  The girl was right. Half the street was sickened by whatever this was and three others had succumbed. Ghost hastened home because his Seeker's kiss needed to be fed, and he was going to have to prepare a great deal more of the healing herbs for those who had just become ill. For the very old and the very young who had reached the bloody vomiting stage, he could do little beyond making them comfortable. It was the Seeker's will if they survived or went into the arms of her dread mate.

  Ghost was glad to see Gerry was already home. As much as he needed the comfort and normalcy of Gerry's arms around him, he waved Gerry off. "I've been dealing with an outbreak of something," Ghost said. "Four have died already and a hand more are close to death. I want to change my clothing and wash before I let you near me. I don't know enough about this illness to know if I can pass it to you, and I won't take a chance."

  Gerry's eyes widened, but he stepped away. "Do you want to eat? Something simple so you can get to bed and rest."

  Ghost shook his head and spoke quickly. "I have to measure out more herbs, so I won't be sleeping any time soon. I need to check the market for ginger root tomorrow too. I know I'm running low and ginger helps settle the stomach."

  "You won't do anyone any good if you're exhausted," Gerry replied, but Ghost was already on his way to the wash house with his cloak and tunic in his hands.

  Ghost finished stripping in the warmth of the wash house, the bed of coals beside the copper tub keeping the water warm. He wet himself down and reached for the soap he had made from the large nuts Gerry called conkers. The Witch had called them aesculus hippocastanum in the ancient words. The bars were rough and scoured away grime and dead skin. Ghost was thorough as he scrubbed, mindful of the Witch's lectures on washing after treating an outbreak of anything. Ghost took great care to follow her advice. Such caution had served the Witch well, after all.

  As he scrubbed, Ghost considered whether or not he should use the scrying mirror, as the Witch had taught him, to consult with other witches about this contagion. A flux of the stomach was not uncommon, nor was a fever. To have them together usually meant the person had eaten something that was spoiled, but the illness resolved in all but the very weakest. The bloody vomit was what bothered Ghost. Hemorrhage was not a common symptom at all. Another witch might have encountered a similar case and could help him figure this out.

  If this was a plague of some sort, disaster was sure to follow. Harvesttide was past, but the weather was still warm enough to ensure the market was lively. The last few caravans from the South were rolling in, the drays pulling heavy wagons laden with exotic treats that would have to last until the weather allowed for trade to resume. Trade would bring the whole village together, and contagion could pass from person to person fast enough to make containing any outbreak impossible.

  Contacting the witchsisters would mean exposing himself to the witches who didn't approve of him, though, and Ghost was not eager to endure another round of their venom. He had passed all manner of tests and had done everything he could to prove he would honor the laws of the sisterhood. His ability to See, which was spoken of in the most ancient texts, should have been an asset. Yet some of the more resistant witches had used his talent as a seer as an excuse to speak against him. Abomination was the preferred insult, and the word still rankled.

  But in the end, Ghost was a healer, and his obligation was to the sick. His own feelings and sensibilities needed to be put aside. He decided he would give himself this night and one more day to look for answers himself. If he was still uncertain, he would turn to the sisterhood and let those few witches who hated him have their say. He was only seeking help for his patients and his village, making his behavior proper for any witch.

  Satisfied with his decision, Ghost sluiced away the thin lather with the dipper. He realized he had forgotten to bring a towel with him. Putting his soiled clothing back on was out of the question. Ghost resigned himself to a quick and chilly run back to the house, naked and wet.

  "Sea take me for getting lost in my head again," Ghost muttered, turning around to grab his boots, at least, before he made his dash to the kitchen. He gasped as a thick towel wrapped around him. He turned to see Gerry's gorgeous form standing behind him.

  "You were so busy thinking about what you needed to do. I watched you walk off with no towel, no clean clothing, nothing. So I thought I'd come and save you having to run across the yard. I wouldn't have minded the view, but I didn't mind the view watching you wash, either." Gerry's smile lifted Ghost's heart, and his strong arms closed around Ghost along with the towel.

  Ghost gazed up at Gerry's handsome face. "It's mutual, you know. I liked watching you wash the very first morning, when the Witch had healed your leg. I was trying not to let you see me, but I was pretty sure you did."

  Gerry's laugh was as welcome as his embrace. "I did see you, you're right. You were so shy and skittish, but I couldn't take my eyes off you. Moon shine on me, I was surprised we made it to the table to eat the porridge. I was terrified the Witch was going to do something awful to me too. I hadn't even asked to court you or made my intentions known properly. I just sort of dragged you into bed with me."

  "Dragging me was the best way. I'd never have dared let you know I thought you were handsome. Or that you were so brave coping with the pain as well as you did." Ghost let his head rest against Gerry. "I'd seen other people treated for broken bones, and they screamed like the Witch was breaking the bone all over again. Although once or twice she actually did, when the break had started to set on its own and wasn't right. What a nasty sound, bone breaking."

  Ghost sighed. "But I guess we'd better get back in the house. After we eat, I need to blend more herbs for fever and stomach flux, and I want to look in the formulary. I'm so frustrated. I feel like I should have the remedy, but what I'm trying isn't quite right." He twisted around to glance at Gerry. "If I can't figure out what to do by tomorrow night, I'll need to contact the sisterhood to see what they know. I'd rather not deal with them, but I can't just hope I get the treatment right. This isn't only some outbreak of stomach aches from spoiled food. I'm worried that this sickness is a full-blown plague."

  "You could try to contact the Witch. You should have a way to send out word you want to speak with her and make it seem like a casual thing." Gerry released Ghost and opened the door to the wash house. "Th
is way, no one will have any reason to prod at you. But if the malady is a plague, no one should give you any grief."

  Ghost walked back to the house, wrapped in the warm towel, his pace brisk. Gerry kept up, one arm still around him.

  "Hmm, your idea might be easier," Ghost said. "But if I can't reach the Witch right away, I'll need to ask the sisterhood anyway. In the meanwhile, I've lost time figuring this out. Merrah is all right for now, but four others died today. Three elderly and a newborn. Not Sari's child, thankfully. Another babe not even a quarter-moon old. The dam never came to me because the alpha thought she didn't need a healer just to bear a babe, even though she was feeling sick. I might have been able to prevent the death if she had." He sighed again. "I wish I could figure this out. There's been no festival in the past quarter-moon. For so many to get sick, and with the same symptoms, there has to be a link. I can't see the pattern yet."

  "You've only started looking today, and you don't know you could have saved that babe. Don't be so harsh on yourself," Gerry said, following Ghost into the house. He closed the door behind them, waving a hand at Ghost when Ghost started to object. "Go put on clothing. You need food. Afterward, you can leave the door ajar if you want. But if you get sick, you won't be able to help anyone."

  Ghost had to admit Gerry was right. Ghost was worried he would be found lacking, and his incompetence would cause the village to demand a proper witch, a woman who would fit the standard image. Ghost could only do so much, though. No witch could do more, and he needed to remember this.

  "You're right. I'll get dressed, we'll eat, and then I'll sort out the herbs and check the drying shed for supplies. Tomorrow will bring its own troubles." Ghost felt better for Gerry's support and offered him a wan smile. "Food sounds good. I'll be right out."