Menders has suggested approaching her about the orphanage project that had to be abandoned during Aidelia’s reign. This might be an ongoing impetus for her. I feel it is absolutely necessary to prevent her backsliding. It is obvious that being able to help others goes a long way toward lightening her situation.
***
The next two years moved along more peacefully. Katrin remained a recluse in the Tower, but she tried to improve her condition. She kept herself clean, made herself presentable and curbed her drinking.
Even on days when she was obviously melancholic, she never said “who cares”. To Menders, after the many months where she had fired that phrase off to everything and anything that was said, this was an incredible relief.
Damage had been done to the bond between them. There was a rift, and he mourned it. He made a point of being as gentle and loving toward her as he could – not always easy on the bad days when she couldn’t seem to control herself, drank and would avoid everyone.
Eiren came to visit often and Menders went to The Shadows, sometimes as frequently as four times a week. He desperately wanted Eiren to come live with him in Erdahn, but she had been caught up in more family trouble. Her father suffered a severe bout of melancholia after the death of his wife. To make matters worse, one of Eiren’s sisters had been widowed by the most recent scrap with Artreya. She moved back to the Spaltz farm with her four children, very much at a loss as to what to do and how to live. Eiren had been dragged back into being a caretaker and the situation was such that she simply couldn’t pull up stakes and leave.
Katrin spontaneously spent time playing her spinet or painting. She devoted a lot of effort to plans for The Shadows Orphanage. Stevahn visited weekly in a business capacity, going over the operations of the facility. Varnia came along with him to give her weekly progress reports of the ten children who had been placed as the Orphanage’s first residents. Katrin took a lively interest in the children and made up clothing and toys for them.
She looked forward to Borsen’s visits and was openly happy when Flori came to see her. She spent time talking to Hemmett and sometimes could be heard laughing at Villison’s nonsense.
Sunny was always at Katrin’s side and even on her bad days, she never failed to care for him. She might be so burdened with sadness that she couldn’t speak, but she rose, prepared his food, took him out to get sun and fresh air in the Tower garden.
One autumn day Menders found her planting spring bulbs in one of the huge raised garden beds that had been installed at her request. He watched as she spoke to Sunny, telling him that there would be flowers there in the spring – snowflowers, the blossoms that often pushed their way through the winter snow.
“Menders used to call me Snowflower when I was a tiny girl,” she told the loving dog. “Maybe this spring we can go down the stairs and look for snowflowers outside. But if we can’t, we’ll have snowflowers here.”
Katrin was slowly climbing out of the darkness she had lived in for so long.
Erdahn, Mordania
2
“I’ve Been With The Ghosts Of Voices Singing”
S
tevahn finished putting the studs in his formal dress shirt and began working on his cufflinks. He and Borsen had found long ago that they could not shave or dress in the same room at the same time. Collisions led to bellows of frustration, which led to shouting matches neither of them enjoyed. They now dressed separately, particularly for formal occasions.
He could see Borsen in his workroom down the hall, sitting at his drafting table in his impeccable evening dress, whiling away the time it took Stevahn to dress by sketching.
Suddenly Borsen sat upright and shook his head, then rubbed the back of his neck.
“What’s the matter?” Stevahn called.
“Just dizzy for a second. It’s gone now,” Borsen answered, bending over his work again. Stevahn worked his second cufflink into place, shrugged on his jacket and checked his reflection in the mirror. Good enough, but Borsen would fuss around him, twitching his tie into place, tweaking his clothing here and there, making him look even better.
“I’m ready to go,” he announced. Borsen nodded, stood and shook his head again.
“How long since you’ve eaten?” Stevahn asked, watching him obviously trying to banish another dizzy spell.
“Too long, obviously. There, it’s better now.” Borsen walked toward Stevahn with a smile. “Are you wearing that? Your tie is under one ear.”
He collapsed in an unconscious heap at Stevahn’s feet.
Stevahn was kneeling beside him in an instant, rolling him onto his back and supporting his head in his hands. Borsen’s eyelids fluttered. Stevahn felt his forehead. Fever – burning fever.
“No!” he whispered, knowing what had struck Borsen down. Borsen blinked and then their eyes met. Stevahn could see that he knew too.
“Have you had it?” Borsen asked, his voice suddenly weak.
“Yes, years ago,” Stevahn answered, not adding that the same illness had killed his younger brother.
“Send for Doctor Franz – and Papa,” Borsen whispered. “Right away.”
“Let me get you to bed first.”
“I can’t fall farther than the floor,” Borsen managed to smile. “Time is of the essence, my dear.”
Stevahn ran to the landing and shouted for Varnia. She hurried to the foot of the stairs and looked up at him.
“Varnia, have you had putrid fever?” Stevahn asked rapidly.
“Years ago,” she answered, looking puzzled – then realization dawned. She swayed, clinging to the newel post for a moment. He could see her rallying her strength.
“We need Doctor Franz and Menders,” Stevahn said, trying to keep his voice calm and even. “Please, dear – I can’t leave him.”
She rushed away. Stevahn ran back to Borsen. He was shivering violently, still stretched out on the floor.
“All right, here we go,” Stevahn said with careful cheerfulness. He lifted Borsen easily and put him on the bed, then rummaged out a heavy nightshirt for him and began to strip off his formal attire. Within a few minutes, Stevahn had him bundled up in bed, a heated brick at his feet and extra blankets tucked around him.
“I might not have long to be lucid,” Borsen said rapidly. “I’m going to have Papa make a couple of amendments to my will. It isn’t up to date. Everything goes to you and Varnia except for some personal items.”
“Borsen, don’t do this,” Stevahn whispered, despite knowing putrid fever was invariably fatal in adults.
“Please – I won’t have a lot of time where I can talk and understand,” Borsen continued firmly. “I saw it kill people many times when I was small. I always assumed I’d had it as a child, though I couldn’t remember it. We were always living in places where it was rampant.”
Suddenly he gripped Stevahn’s hand with both of his, hard. His eyes went wide with fear.
“Stay with me. Please stay with me so long as I know you’re there. Please,” he choked.
“I’ll stay with you,” Stevahn answered firmly, bending and putting his arms around Borsen. “I promised to stay with you all your life.”
Borsen sighed with relief. He wrapped his arms around Stevahn’s neck and held on.
***
“Has he been down by the docks?” Doctor Franz asked Stevahn. They were standing in the hallway as Menders talked to Borsen.
“I don’t… yes! He had to go and see about a shipment three days ago.”
“It’s rife down there. The outbreak is brand new, so he wouldn’t have heard about it,” Franz sighed. “I know he’s always avoided it, because we had no idea what he’d had and what he hadn’t.”
“What do we do?” Stevahn asked, his heart feeling as if it was encased in ice.
“Careful nursing, keep the fever down,” Franz said, obviously keeping his voice unemotional.
“My brother died of it,” Stevahn said quietly.
“The mortality rate among adult
s is… total,” Franz responded, his eyes finally meeting Stevahn’s. “You must brace yourself, Stevahn.”
“How can I do that?” Stevahn answered bleakly.
Franz put a hand on his arm.
***
“There is a painting, a small one, of Snowflake,” Borsen told Menders, who sat on the edge of the bed holding his hands. “I want Katrin to have that. There’s only one, so there’ll be no mistake.”
Menders nodded.
“I want Hemmett to have the belt and money bag I had made from that snakeskin,” Borsen continued. “He’ll like the joke. He could never wear the shoes. Save them for Vil’s boy, he’s always coveted them.”
Menders nodded again.
“I’m the one who took Cook’s Particular Spoon,” Borsen went on. “It’s hidden in the strongroom, behind the shelf. Give it back to her. I never got around to it.” He managed a grin, between violent chills. Menders couldn’t help smiling.
“And here I blamed Hemmett for that all these years,” Menders replied.
“I enjoyed keeping the mystery going,” Borsen smiled. I want Doctor Franz to have my painting of him.”
“Done,” Menders said.
“There’s a piece of jewelry – a ring – that I designed for you, for Winterfest,” Borsen said, his voice a little fainter. “Alahno, the jeweler at the store is working on it. Don’t forget about it. I mean you to have it, Papa. You’ll understand when you see it.”
Menders felt a burning behind his eyes, but remained calm. Borsen was managing, so he could do the same. Borsen deserved to have someone hear his last requests.
“I have a book of sketches of you. I want Auntie to have that,” Borsen continued. “It’s on my worktable at the store.”
Menders nodded.
“Please, keep Stevahn part of the family. Don’t let him fall by the wayside.”
“We never would, son.”
“One last thing.” Borsen gripped Menders’ hand tightly and looked at him intently. “If I live through this, but as an idiot, I want you to kill me.”
Menders froze. Borsen kept his brown eyes on him, despite the rapidly rising fever – the fever that wasted bodies and destroyed brains.
“I don’t want to live as an idiot,” Borsen continued intensely. “I don’t want to be a burden to Stevahn, Varnia or to you. If I survive, but I’m an idiot from the fever, I want you to promise you will end it for me. I won’t be able to do it for myself.”
Menders looked at him – his late arriving boy, his beloved son.
“I will,” he said roughly.
“Thank you.”
Borsen held up his arms and Menders gathered him close. He found he was rocking the small body, horrified as he felt how hot it was growing.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Borsen whispered in his ear. “I love you, Papa.”
“Thank you for coming to me,” Menders answered. “I love you, my son.”
Cherish this moment, he told himself fiercely. It is going to be very ugly soon. Cherish this. Remember everything, his voice, his arms around you, his hair against your cheek. Oh, my boy.
“Now, we’d best have Franz and Stevahn back,” Menders said when Borsen began shuddering from a chill, settling him back against the pillows and making sure he was covered. He wiped Borsen’s eyes for him. Then he rose and went to the door, letting Stevahn and Franz back into the room.
They began to fight what they knew would be a losing battle.
***
Katrin ran to the head of the stairs as soon as she heard Menders coming, looking down at him as he walked up as slowly and tiredly as an old, old man would.
She couldn’t speak. She waited.
Menders looked up and saw her there. He closed his eyes for a moment and then finished his climb up the final steps.
“It’s putrid fever,” he said softly, touching her cheek.
Katrin stared at him, her hands over her mouth.
“No,” she whispered. “No!”
Menders put his arms around her. She flung hers around him and held on with all her strength.
***
TO: EIREN
FROM: MENDERS
BORSEN ILL WITH PUTRID FEVER. PLEASE COME AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE TO SAY GOODBYE.
FROM: EIREN
TO: MENDERS
LEAVING IMMEDIATELY. WILL TAKE CAB FROM DOCKS. DO NOT LEAVE HIM TO COME FOR ME.
***
Stevahn rose stiffly, slowly straightening his kinked back and legs. Borsen was asleep at last, after another bout of high fever that nothing would bring down. Doctor Franz managed to give him a dose of ramplane, giving Borsen some relief from the massive muscle spasms that racked sufferers of this terrible disease.
“Best get something to eat now,” Franz said wearily to Stevahn, washing his hands thoroughly. “He’ll need you with him when he wakes. It won’t be long. I don’t dare give him a large dose of ramplane.”
“How long until the bowel involvement begins?” Stevahn asked, filled with dread.
“Another twelve to twenty hours,” Franz answered.
Stevahn made his way down to the kitchen and forced himself to swallow food methodically. Varnia, her eyes painfully red, poured coffee for him and rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment before gathering up fresh towels and linen and starting upstairs with them.
“Stretch out beside him for a while,” Franz said when Stevahn returned to Borsen’s bedside. “You look done in. You’re going to need every bit of strength you have later.”
Stevahn took his advice, lying close to Borsen, putting an arm over him, pressing his face against Borsen’s long silky hair.
***
Hemmett rushed into his townhouse, startling Flori and their housekeeper, Alisa Gunter. The women were sitting by the front room fire chatting and laughing about some event of the day.
“Flori, have you had putrid fever?” Hemmett asked, hurriedly taking off his uniform overcoat.
“When I was five, right before you met Mama,” she answered. Her eyes widened in fear. “Who has it?”
Hemmett felt a surge of relief. Flori worked with Borsen daily and would be sure to contract putrid fever if she had never been exposed before. She was old enough that it would be extremely dangerous, if not fatal.
He sat beside her and took her hand.
“It’s Borsen, sweetheart,” he said. “I have to go there now to help them.”
“I’ll get some things for you to take along,” Alisa said, rising quickly and hurrying into the kitchen.
“Oh Papa! He seemed fine this afternoon,” Flori protested, her forehead creased with anxiety.
“It moves very quickly. He was well one minute and fainted the next,” Hemmett replied. “You can help us a great deal if you will make a list of everyone you can remember being around Borsen’s workroom in the last three days. Can you do that?”
“Of course. Should I bring it up to Borsen’s house?”
“No – Vil will come by for it in about half an hour. Flori, I very seldom forbid you anything but I am very serious. I do not want you going to Borsen’s house. There are enough people there to take care of things. I don’t need to be worried that you’ll try to go up there on your own at night.”
Flori’s face quivered for a moment. In the two years she’d been working with Borsen, she’d grown very close to him.
“I know,” Hemmett said. “He’s my little brother. He wouldn’t want you to see what is going on now. If you can make up that list so we can locate the people who were in contact with him, we might be able to prevent an epidemic. It’s very important that you do this – and it will give him peace of mind.”
She nodded. Hemmett held her close.
***
“For the gods’ sakes, give him more ramplane!” Menders growled at Franz.
“I can’t! Not for a couple of hours or it will kill him outright,” Franz answered. “He’s not like you or me, Menders! This is a delicate constitution we
’re dealing with. His heart slowed so much after the last dose, I thought I’d killed him. If I give him enough to lower the fever, he comes close to dying, never mind giving him enough to kill the pain completely.”
Menders turned away, his fists clenched.
“If you think it doesn’t torment me to see him in such pain, you’re mad,” Franz snapped, stomping away down the stairs.
“Shh, it’s all right,” Stevahn whispered in the bedroom, where he was holding Borsen upright in his arms. He constantly massaged Borsen’s arms and legs, which rippled with agonizing muscle spasms. Borsen groaned involuntarily and shuddered with pain. Eiren sat on the other side of the bed, sponging his burning forehead.
“Where’s Papa?” Borsen asked during an apparent lull.
“Right here, son,” Menders said, going rapidly into the room.
“I need to see Katrin,” Borsen said rapidly. “I need to tell her something. Could you ask her to come?”
“Yes, I will, right away,” Menders replied, rushing to the door. He shuddered as he heard Borsen’s soft groans and cries of pain as another muscle spasm began, then dashed down the stairs.
Menders managed to snag a passing cab outside and made good time to the Palace. He raced up all the stairs into the Tower.
Katrin was drunk. It was obvious she’d been drinking for hours.
“Damn it!” Menders said, going to her. “Borsen is asking for you!”
“I’m sorry.”
Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series Page 70