Ghost's Dilemma Page 9

  "I'm sorry. I didn't think," Gerry murmured, but he sounded unconvinced. Ghost slipped out of his arms.

  "Why don't you get the bowls down and dish out the stew?" Ghost said. His chest hurt so much he could barely breathe, and his lips felt numb as he formed the words. Gerry had said what Ghost did as a witch was his decision, but now Gerry thought he had made the wrong choice. Gerry thought he was a killer. "We'll eat, and I'll see who I can reach tonight. Afterward, I think I need to sleep. I have a lot to do tomorrow if I'm going to make this work. Are you still going to talk to Mother and Conn tonight?"

  "I think I will, yes," Gerry replied, and the careful distance in his voice was vast enough to make Ghost's heart sink even more. "Ghost, don't think I don't trust you. But bringing about a death shouldn't be easy. I just wonder if maybe the Witch made some of what you can do seem too easy, or if being raised apart the way you were had something to do with it. But I think you follow your oath the best you know how."

  "Thank you. I think," Ghost said. He felt icy-cold inside, but his cheeks were on fire. "I suppose I'm on my own with this anyway. I'm the one who gets to listen and make the choice to offer to kill them before the illness does. Witch's business, right? No one will point a finger at you as long as you can pass off the blame. You can just say I did what I had to do."

  "I said I would trust you when it came to witch's business, didn't I? I suppose I have to make good on my word." Gerry sounded as bleak as Ghost felt, and for a moment, Ghost wanted to apologize. He yearned to tell Gerry everything was all right, and Gerry didn't have to understand.

  Instead, Ghost watched in silence as Gerry put the bowls of stew on the table. He realized in a hot rush he was angry at the condescension in Gerry's words, at how easily Gerry implied he had no empathy for people, no real understanding of what the healer's oath he had sworn meant. What other oaths did Gerry think Ghost had misunderstood? Their mating vow, maybe? Ghost remembered Gerry asking for his promise at the Witch's house that first day, and how Gerry had made Ghost feel like a person. Now Gerry had taken his confidence away with a few cruel words.

  Ghost had needed all his courage to sit next to the two people who had asked for his tincture. He had given them the drops and watched as their breathing slowed. He had not moved, not until they were still. He had no doubt the Seeker's rest would be needed again and no words to explain to Gerry why death could be a part of healing.

  They ate in near silence, Gerry's fingers drumming on the tabletop. Ghost's appetite was nonexistent as he pushed the stew around in his bowl. He watched from under his lashes as Gerry ate, and Ghost missed the ability to hide behind his long hair, worn bound back now to show his witchmark. Gerry didn't glance up until the bowl was empty, but Ghost couldn't meet his eyes.

  Gerry stood, placed his bowl in the stone tub, and left without a word. Only then did Ghost look up from his bowl of stew. He scraped the uneaten food into the slops bucket. He washed and dried the bowls and cups before putting them on the shelf.

  Having stalled all he could, Ghost opened the drawer of his formulary cabinet and unwrapped his mirror with less than steady hands. Reaching the proper state of mind to send out his call took longer than usual, and even then, the pressure behind his spiral was sharper and angrier than normal. The night was quiet, far quieter than Ghost would have liked. He would have welcomed even Sri and her bitter mental sneer rather than this painful silence in his home and in his heart.

  Ghost was close to admitting defeat when he felt the tug of contact and saw the blue crescent signaling Zereda's presence. More than mere relief coursed through him. The soft slur of her mental voice was the closest thing to comfort he could hope for this night.

  "Little brother," Zereda began. "Did you find her?"

  "She found me, actually, sister." Ghost sighed. "She asked me if it'd started. The epidemic. As if she'd been expecting it."

  "Odd, little brother. She is not a seer as we are. Could you tell where she was?" Zereda's mental voice was strained.

  "She's in the Northlands. She said the problem started in the South, but the answer was there. She said something about having an answer, but the trick was going to be getting out. And she ended the contact without any warning. Fast enough to hurt when she broke our link."

  The strain in Zereda's voice was stronger. "There is no choice, little brother. This was earlier this morning, yes?"

  "Yes. I'd been in the village, doing what I could. I came home to wash before speaking to the elders. They've given me a warehouse to use for the sick."

  Ghost's anxiety rose as he listened to Zereda. "She tried to reach me, not long ago. But before she spoke to you, I believe. She was looking for you, little brother. I heard fear in her voice, but the Witch I know is rarely frightened." Zereda paused. "You need to find her."

  "She's in the Northlands, and it's close to winter. Travel north is impossible now." Ghost watched the blue crescent in his mirror grow sharper. "The passes will be blocked by snow. No caravan will be traveling this way, either. The last ones left already."

  "You will move faster without a caravan, and witches' ways remain open. Not every traveler goes over the mountains, little brother." Zereda's voice carried gentle humor. "The time has come to share one of the secrets of our sisterhood, since the Witch has not done so. Tunnels with metal carriages run under the mountains ringing the Heartlands. Is your formulary a copy of hers?"

  Ghost's stomach clenched. "Yes. She prepared it herself."

  "Then we are in luck. Look for an entry for velox iter, which will tell you where to find the carriageway. The station will have instructions on how to charge the carriage and make it travel. The journey to the Northlands should take less than a hand of days." Zereda's voice was confident.

  "And what about the sick here? What about my oath? 'Above all else, and before the gods, I will do no harm.' I said the words, Zereda. I can't leave them with no one to look after them." Ghost felt the heat in his spiral heralding the Seeker and the touch of Sight. He pushed it away as best he could.

  "Natali will come tomorrow at first light. You will know her by the starburst on her brow, as purple as the sunset. She will stand in as the witch for your village. You, Ghost, are the only one who has a chance of finding the Witch and any solutions she holds." Zereda was implacable.

  "The Northlands is vast. I don't have the first clue where to look." Ghost offered only a token protest. He couldn't refuse to search for the Witch. She had searched for him not so long ago, she and Gerry, along with Mother and Conn. "And I don't know what to tell Gerry. I can't just vanish. He's more than my alpha. He's my mate."

  The words fell like stones even as they left Ghost's lips. He was no longer certain Gerry would care if he vanished. Or perhaps Gerry would try to forbid Ghost from leaving. He wasn't sure if his duty to the Witch and the village outweighed his obligations to his mate. But the Witch held answers. Ghost might not have to offer his tincture to anyone else.

  "The Seeker will guide you," Zereda replied.

  Ghost's stomach roiled from nervousness. Something had triggered this epidemic, and while the Witch thought she had a solution, Ghost could seek the catalyst. He had Tal to contact. He would have time on the journey.

  "One last thing, little brother. A guess, and no more. We have an insect here, a small annoyance, buzzing about and nipping at the flesh it can find. Sometimes, in the wake of its bite, there is a fever, followed by hemorrhaging from the mouth and nose. If a stomach flux were somehow added, well. The resulting malady sounds far too much like what you are seeing in the sick." Zereda hesitated. "I have heard rumors of relics in the West Reaches. Centrifuges can spin and combine the smallest of particles, such as phages or viruses, and place them in bacteria. You may find such rumors worth considering."

  "Thank you, sister. I'll consider the rumors with care," Ghost replied. "But now, I need to go. I need to prepare if I'm going to leave tomorrow after Natali comes. This has to succeed, Zereda. If I don't find the Witch, I won't be
able to come back, if I even survive the trip. I'm leaving my village in a crisis and walking out on my alpha and mate. I won't be forgiven."

  "I know, little brother, but you are the only one who stands a chance of finding the Witch. Use the bond between you." Zereda's crescent faded away, and Ghost looked at the mirror, seeing only the reflection of his spiral, angry and bright.

  With a sigh, Ghost wrapped the mirror up to be packed. The gods' light and Seeker's kiss were both fed. Those he would take, as well, along with his formulary. His head ached, and Ghost reached for the hemp, wanting the deeper sleep the herb could provide. He wouldn't have a chance to make things right with Gerry before he left, and his departure would only make matters worse. He would look as though he was running from something too large to handle, a public admission he was not a proper witch. He didn't bother to add honey to the infusion after he brewed it, barely registering the bitter taste as he contemplated the ruin of his life.

  Chapter 9

  Gerry walked up the familiar path to the blue door of Mother's house. The door was partially open, as it usually was, and Gerry walked into the kitchen. He noted the tidy state of the place. Mother looked up from the chair by the fire with a quizzical expression.

  "Lady smile on you," Gerry said as Mother rose.

  "Conn, come and see Gerry," Mother called. He waved Gerry to sit at the table. "I'll pour us some mead."

  Conn came out of the bedroom, dressed in loose linen pants and a light tunic, looking around as he spoke. "Hello, Gerry. Where's Ghost? He still in the village?"

  Gerry's throat tightened. The last thing he wanted to do was to tell Mother how he had left things with Ghost. "He's home. He wanted to check some things. He asked the elders today for a place to use as an infirmary, and they gave him the old warehouse at the edge of the market."

  "With the red doors?" Mother poured mead into three cups. "The building is hardly used these days anyway."

  "Exactly. It'll be easier for Ghost to have all the worst cases in one place, and he thinks isolating the sick may slow the spread of the disease. But I came to ask if you'd have time tomorrow to help us shift the sickest patients to the warehouse." Gerry accepted the cup, watching Conn get some dried dates for them to enjoy. "I understand if you don't want to chance being around the plague."

  "I had the sickness." Conn shrugged. "I was in the market trading eggs for some of the Southron goods, like these dates. Last Seaday, wasn't it?" He looked over at Mother and then back at Gerry. "The market was unusually crowded because the weather was so fine. When I came home, I felt a little strange. I felt like shit come nightfall, vomited a few times, and Mother said I was warm."

  "You were as hot as a stone in the sun," Mother said. "But your teeth were chattering as though you were freezing."

  Conn sat and sipped his cup of mead. "Anyway, I was fine by the next night. I think Fatherday was when you came down with it as well?"

  Mother nodded. "The disease was much the same for me. A headache, vomiting for a full day, and a fever. I rested, and I was fine the next day."

  "You rested because I all but tied you to the fucking bed," Conn said. Gerry heard the easy affection in his voice. "But anyway, I think we've already had whatever this plague is running through the village, although neither of us had any bleeding. Does Ghost know what's causing this disease?"

  "Not yet." Gerry nibbled a date and was startled by the sweetness. He had forgotten the taste of the Southron fruit. "He's trying to figure the damned malady out, but it's been tricky. He's lost a couple hands of patients already, and he took it hard."

  Mother must have picked up on something in Gerry's voice, because he looked at him with a sharp expression Gerry knew all too well.

  "If he took those losses hard, I'd think you'd not want to leave him. There's enough pressure on him because he's male and a witch." Mother's voice was soft, but Gerry heard the reprimand. "You're his alpha, Gerry. You can't walk away when the relationship gets uncomfortable."

  "We had a stupid disagreement." Gerry forced himself to meet Mother's eyes as he made the admission. "Two of the villagers he found were old and hurting. They knew they weren't going to survive. Ghost knew they would die too. He gave them a tincture called the Seeker's rest, which helped them to die peacefully. I wasn't sure how to deal with what he did. He killed them, strictly speaking."

  Conn made a small sound and wrapped his hands around his cup. He looked as though he wanted to speak, but his dark blue eyes were on Mother as he waited for his alpha, to Gerry's surprise. Conn of old would not have been so circumspect.

  "Do you think those two people would have been better off dying while vomiting up nothing but blood?" Mother looked at Gerry and sighed. "I watched my dam make the same offer to those she couldn't help. I watched her sit with them, and hold their hands, and speak to them until they fell asleep. Sometimes it was the first time in days they looked peaceful, without pain. They could meet death on their terms. Some refused the Seeker's rest, of course, and my dam cared for them with just as much tenderness until they died. After a while, you stop hearing the moans."

  Gerry felt the tightness in his throat again. "I know the guilt a man has to carry when he's taken a life. I wanted to keep Ghost from having to endure what I do."

  "Did you tell him, or even listen to him?" Mother asked. "Ghost did nothing any witch would find objectionable. They deal in death daily. They're not as afraid of dying as we are."

  Gerry looked into his mead for a moment. "I told him it was witch's business. I dismissed his feelings and left him sitting there."

  "It's ironic how we can get it so spectacularly wrong at times with the one we love the most. Of course, some of us take a few tries to figure this out." Mother looked over at Conn, and the younger man ducked his head. "Eventually, we do figure things out, Gerry. You can mend this with your Ghost."

  Conn cleared his throat. "And to get back to why you came, I can bring some eggs tomorrow to the warehouse if you can use them. As a matter of fact, I have a pair of productive hens I can spare if you and Ghost want more eggs yourselves."

  "I'll say yes to both, although Ghost will probably send over some liver loaf or a batch of scones as a thank-you." Gerry held up his hand to still any protests. "I'm pretty sure Ghost understands gifts, but he feels like he should give something as well. Honestly, sometimes I think he really is an alpha. He's as stubborn as one, anyway."

  Gerry finished his mead and declined any more with a small wave when Conn offered the bottle. "I should get back home and see about mending things with Ghost." He stood, reaching out to clasp Mother's hand in gratitude. He hugged Conn, Conn returning the embrace. "Take care of him," Gerry murmured, meaning Mother, and Conn murmured acquiescence.

  Gerry didn't rush back to his house, though, despite what he had said to Mother and Conn. He needed a walk to clear his head. Ghost took matters to heart more than Gerry, and Ghost would likely see this as a lack of trust on Gerry's part. Add in Ghost's anxiety about failing in the face of this epidemic, and Gerry had a recipe for disaster.

  The door to the house was closed when Gerry got home, although he could see a thin wisp of smoke from the hearth fire's chimney. The kitchen was dark, the lamps extinguished, but the glow of the hearth was enough to see by. Gerry took his boots off and left them by the door, padding over the wooden floor in silence.

  The bedroom door was open, and Gerry could make out Ghost's body under the quilt. Ghost didn't stir, which meant one of two things. Either he was upset and pretending to be asleep to avoid talking to Gerry, or he had made himself one of his infusions to help him sleep. In either case, he would not be talking to Gerry.

  Gerry stripped and slid under the quilt before he grew chilled. He reached out and felt Ghost's knitted tunic. The linen breeches Ghost also wore formed a silent rebuke, and Gerry sighed. He had not been forgiven in his absence, and making amends would be even more of a challenge in the morning.

  Nonetheless, Gerry wrapped his arms around Ghost.
Ghost was so deep in sleep Gerry knew he had taken something. Probably the hemp he had used on Gerry to allow Gerry to sleep through the pain of a broken leg. Gerry's heart ached as he buried his face in the silken white hair and breathed in the scent of his Ghost. He hummed Ghost's song as he watched the moon cross half the sky. Ghost never moved once in his embrace.

  ***

  Gerry woke just past dawn. The bed was cold and empty. He sat up, scrubbing his fingers through his hair as he yawned and stretched. He tossed back the quilt and found his discarded breeches, not bothering to lace them all the way as he left the bedroom.

  Ghost was in the main room, speaking to a woman, a starburst in rich purple marking her forehead and identifying her as a witch. He looked up as Gerry emerged, his face impassive. "You're awake," he said.

  Gerry blinked a little. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realize anyone would be here. My apologies, good witch." He reached for his laces in haste.

  "This is Natali," Ghost said. "She'll be dealing with the patients in the infirmary. My sister, this is Gerry, my alpha."

  Natali smiled at Gerry. "Lady smile on you, good alpha. I won't trouble you long. Ghost is giving me certain instructions, and I'll be on my way to the village."

  "Mother and Conn will be by to lend a hand in moving the patients you want sent to the warehouse," Gerry said, addressing Ghost. He offered a quick and fervent prayer to the Moon, wanting Ghost to look back with more than the careful, neutral expression he reserved for strangers. "Conn's going to bring another pair of chickens for the coop, as well as extra eggs for the infirmary. I thought I'd wash up and see if I can get Moran and Torrance, and maybe a few others to help too."