“Get up. Come with me, please,” Menders pleaded.
“I can’t. I can’t go out there,” Katrin answered.
“Katrin, he’s dying! There is not going to be another chance,” Menders said, his voice rising with anger. “It’s a last request. I’ll help you get down the stairs. Please!”
Katrin turned away from him, her head hung low.
Menders wheeled away from her, going out of the suite as quickly as he had come in.
When he got back to the sickroom, Borsen was worse.
***
Later that night Katrin awoke to the sound of Menders’ footsteps nearing her bedroom door. He crashed in and wrenched aside the hanging blocking the private part of her room.
“Borsen is asking for you – still,” he said bitterly. “There is something he wants to tell you. He can’t rest because he wants to talk to you. Would you please have the decency to get up and go to see him?”
Katrin shrank away from him, shaking her head. Sunny moved protectively closer to her.
“Katrin!” Menders sprang forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her viciously. Sunny growled but a look from Menders made him slink off the bed onto the floor.
“Borsen is going to die and he knows it! It’s in his bowels now! It’s eating him alive! He’s a wreck and he won’t be conscious much longer. He’s asked for you all night long. He cries when you don’t come. He’s dying a horrible, painful death! How can you just lie around here when this is happening?”
Katrin began to cry, still shaking her head.
Menders stood upright and stared at her, the expression on his face horrifying.
“All right,” he said coldly. “I am going to leave in five minutes to go back down there. It’s six blocks away. I have a cab waiting. We can carry you down the stairs if you can’t manage on your own. You don’t have to walk down the street. There’s a cab right outside in the Courtyard.
“After everything Borsen has been to you... no, I’m not going to beg. If you aren’t ready to go in five minutes, I will go without you. I don’t think there is anything you can do that will ever mend things between us if you fail Borsen now.”
Katrin heard him go.
She leapt from the bed suddenly, dragging a dress on over her gown, pulling her wig on, not even bothering to look in the mirror.
Menders descended to the ground floor, where Villison was waiting, pacing frantically.
“She didn’t come?” Villison blurted in dismay.
“I’ve given her five minutes,” Menders said furiously. “I’m not going to lose another minute with him because of her.” He took out his watch and held it in his hand. Villison groaned and paced back and forth.
Rapid footsteps started down the stairs above them – Katrin. Menders and Villison dashed upward to meet her.
The footsteps stopped in mid-flight. After a pause, they began to climb upwards, slowly. They could hear Katrin’s panicked breathing rasping through the entire Stairwell. The door to her suite closed and the lock was turned.
“I won’t lose another minute,” Menders said coldly, turning and racing back to the cab.
***
Menders sat at the side of Borsen’s bed. Stevahn was stretched out beside Borsen, his arms around him, his mouth against his ear. Eiren had nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Menders tucked her into bed in one of the spare rooms, sitting with her until she slept.
Hemmett was asleep in a chair in the corner of the room, years of being a soldier making him capable of sleeping anywhere, anytime. Franz was asleep on the floor beside the bed. Years of being a doctor made him capable of sleeping anywhere, anytime.
Varnia was expending her sorrow by scrubbing out the soiled linens from the bed. Menders could hear her rapidly turning the handle of the wringer in the laundry downstairs.
Stevahn whispered from time to time. At this point, the big man didn’t care who heard, snatching any moment when Borsen was conscious to talk to him. Borsen must have moved or opened his eyes, because Stevahn was speaking to him again.
“I’m here, light of my life,” he said. “Everyone else is asleep except Varnia, who’s downstairs, and Menders. He’s here sitting by the bed. It’s very late.
“I’ve been remembering all those months when I was a fool and stood in my office window watching you while your building was being renovated,” Stevahn went on. “I used to marvel at you. I still marvel at you, every day. I only wish I’d had the sense to tell you how I felt sooner, so we would have had more time. All that time wasted when we could have been together. Nothing else matters now.”
Stevahn stroked Borsen’s hair, which was matted with sweat. Eiren had braided it back carefully when it became impossible for him to sit up so it could be brushed and cared for. He’d thanked her very quietly and somehow she’d managed to maintain her composure.
“I know we promised never to leave each other, until death,” Stevahn said after a few moments of silence. “I just never thought you would have to go so soon. Please stay with me. Please stay with me.”
The room was quiet again as they waited. Menders reached out and put a hand on Borsen. Life was still there, but far away and ebbing.
***
Katrin stood at the top of the Tower Staircase, fully dressed and wearing her winter coat. She gripped the handrail, drew a deep ragged breath and began to run down the stairs as fast as she could.
She managed three flights before she tripped and rolled on the landing. She shuddered as she tried to pull herself upright.
Her ankle buckled under her and she fell again. She couldn’t stand on it. She must have injured it when she fell.
The Stairwell was dim here. Katrin sat up, pulling her skirts back from her ankle. She could feel it swelling already. Her breath was starting to come short. There wouldn’t be time for her to get to the bottom of the stairs before the fear came!
She began sliding down the next flight of stairs on her backside, like a little child. The fear was growing now. She could feel her heart pounding. It banged in her ears.
At the next landing she tried to stand and wrenched her injured ankle. She cried out and bent over it. The lantern over the landing had gone out. She was in the dark, alone.
Terror leapt out at her. She huddled there, shivering and moaning softly. Far above, she could hear Sunny yelping and scrabbling wildly at the door she had closed between them.
An hour later, Villison was walking his patrol, which included the Tower Staircase. He braced himself for the climb and started upward.
Harsh, ragged breathing reached him as he climbed to the fourth floor. To his horror, Katrin was lying on the landing, curled into a ball, sobbing and gasping for breath.
“Here, sweetheart!” He dashed up to her and knelt beside her. “Tell me you didn’t fall all that way, please!”
“Going to Borsen,” she choked, barely able to breathe. Villison was going over her arms and legs, fearful of finding broken bones. When he felt over her right ankle, she cried out.
“Katrin, this is sprained or broken,” he said. “We either have to get you down to the Guardroom or back up to your suite. It has to be iced and bound up – I’d go for Doctor Franz, but he’s got his hands full with Borsen. I could find another doctor…”
“Upstairs,” Katrin gasped. “I can’t be out here! I can’t! Get me back upstairs!”
He got a shoulder under her right arm and they started up the stairs together.
“I tried!” she burst out. “If I hadn’t fallen, I would have gotten to the bottom. I tried, Vil!”
“I’ll make sure Menders knows, Katrin,” Villison said, stepping up yet another tread. “We’re almost there. Just a few more steps, dear.”
***
Stevahn dreamed of a groundquake and woke to find the bed shaking. Franz and Menders were on their feet, their hands on Borsen’s shoulders. Hemmett was kneeling on the mattress, holding Borsen’s legs down as a massive convulsion contorted his body.
&nbs
p; “His tongue’s going back,” Menders said almost calmly. Stevahn saw him slide a finger into Borsen’s mouth, holding it there despite the massive clenching of Borsen’s jaw muscles until Franz could get a wrapped tongue depressor between Borsen’s teeth.
Stevahn rolled over, wrapping his arms around Borsen’s waist. Borsen’s skin was so hot it should have been flaming. Stevahn could feel it through the nightshirt and sheet. He could see Varnia at the foot of the bed, doggedly wrapping steaming towels around Borsen’s feet.
Eiren squeezed in beside him, a dripping towel loaded with ice in her hands. She held it to Borsen’s head.
The convulsion seemed to go on forever as they struggled with Borsen’s thrashing body. Eiren determinedly held the cold pack in place, while Franz did the same with cold compresses on Borsen’s wrists. Finally, the seizure slowed and then stopped. Franz didn’t bother with his stethescope, pressing his ear to Borsen’s chest.
“Still with us,” he gasped with relief, stripping back the blanket and sheet so that they could start cleaning up the mess once again. At this point the bed was heavily padded against involuntary loss of bowels and bladder, so it was easier to keep Borsen clean and dry.
“Could we try a tub of ice water?” Stevahn asked hoarsely, cutting away Borsen’s fouled nightshirt with his pocketknife, not wanting to disturb him more than necessary.
“I’m afraid to try it,” Franz answered. “With another patient I would, but it could put him into shock or stop his heart. He’s too frail. We’ll leave the nightshirts off now. The covers should be enough to keep him warm. We’ll have to continually sponge him to try to –
Hemmett, grab him, he’s going again!”
They rode out another convulsion. Stevahn watched with horror as the clean pad under Borsen turned red with blood.
***
Menders walked wearily toward the Palace, needing to change into clean clothing before returning to Borsen’s house. His exhaustion was so complete that he was barely aware of his body.
He finally reached the Tower suite and staggered through the door.
Katrin was sitting up. It was obvious that she’d been drinking. He could smell it in the room, but she was upright and lucid. She looked up at him fearfully.
“Is he still asking for me?” she whispered.
“He’s having convulsions. He can’t ask for anyone,” Menders answered, his voice flat and expressionless. “The time to talk to him is gone. You had a chance, and now it’s gone. So why don’t you just pour some more wine down your throat? Then it won’t matter a bit when my boy dies.”
She tried to speak, gesturing toward her right foot, but he turned away. He couldn’t bear any more.
He went to his room and changed his filthy clothing, stuffing the soiled garments into the fire. Then he sank down on the edge of the bed for a moment, desperate to stop moving.
At the window, Eirdon’s twin moons were full, high in the sky – supposedly a portent of great things. The wind was rising, howling around the Tower, the true winter wind the Thrun called The Ghosts Of Voices Singing.
Suddenly Menders heard the voice of Tharan-Tul, shaman of the Tailors Clan, the man who had taught him to endure hardship and grief when he was a battered and exploited little boy.
“There will be a time when three arise:
Light Of The Winter Sun from the Royal House –
Light Brighter Than The Sun from the warrior caste –
Reflection Of My Friend from Thrun.
They will find Weaving Man,
Who holds the three strands:
Weaving them into one –
Teaching them to love –
Training them in sacrifice –
Leading them by his own life.
When the time of trial spins out
The chosen children shall rise to their tasks –
Light Of The Winter Sun shall rise from the way of death to rule with peace –
Reflection Of My Friend shall cherish the key that opens the lock of Truth –
Light Brighter Than The Sun shall become living love and sacrifice.
He had heard Tharan-Tul chant the Prophecy Saga when he was very young. He had not thought of it again until Tharak gave Katrin, Hemmett and Borsen their Thrun names and began calling Menders ‘Weaving Man’, replacing the Thrun name, Magic In The Eyes, which he’d been given by Tharan-Tul as a child. The Saga had haunted him since that time and he tried to tell himself he didn’t believe it. But now…
Borsen, Tharkul a’ Thrunar – Reflection Of My Friend shall cherish the key that opens the lock of Truth.
Suddenly alert, Menders rose and went to the window, looking away from the moons toward the constellation called The Weaver – the grouping of stars the Thrun called Weaving Man.
Nothing in The Weaver had changed. The three brightest stars glowed in a triangle at The Weaver’s heart, the same positions they had held since the night Katrin was born and the third star rose unexpectedly, baffling the scientific men of Eirdon.
Menders ran from his room, past Katrin, who cried his name in astonishment, down the many flights of stairs and into the street.
He raced the five blocks to Borsen’s house and burst in the front door.
Stevahn was collapsed on the sofa, broken down in agony at last. Menders grabbed his arm, pulling him upright.
“He is not going to die!” he cried, feeling wild exhiliration.
Stevahn stared at him as if he’d gone mad.
“He’s not going to die – there’s something he must do first!
“For the Gods’ sake, Menders!” Stevahn shouted, his voice breaking with pain, his face distorted with misery. “He’s been convulsing since you left! No-one survives putrid fever once convulsions set in!”
“He will! Go back to him, he’ll need you!” Menders shouted exultingly.
A light of hope sparked deep in Stevahn’s blue eyes. He stood slowly and started up the stairs.
Menders sank down on the sofa, the feeling of elation and joy completely gone. He tried to remember the words of the Saga that had come to him, but they were gone as well.
If he’d given Stevahn false hope, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
***
Borsen was aware of there being no more pain, of being lighter than he ever had been, even when he was a starveling child. He rose rapidly from his body, as if impelled by a force he couldn’t see.
He was lifted high above Erdahn. He could see the Harbor and farther, the world turning beneath him as he was blown along by a windstorm toward The Light At The Top Of The World.
Suddenly he was caught in loving arms and pulled away from the power that had torn him from his body. He wondered if it was Stevahn holding him – but these arms were softer. He knew them.
“Mama!” he whispered, looking up into beautiful white eyes.
“It is not yet time for you to join us, my little son” she answered. “This illness is the work of forces that seek to destroy. There is work for you to do in the world for many years to come.”
“Mama, I want to stay with you,” he pleaded.
“I am always with you.” Her voice was magnified as if there were hundreds of her, all speaking at once in a melodious whisper.
“Why must I go back?”
“You must sacrifice part of yourself for the benefit of many, as I sacrificed myself so that you would live,” she smiled. ‘You must love your Balancing Man. There is more as well, much more. You have much yet to do, my little man. There is much joy and much suffering to know. Come, I will take you home.”
They spun back across the sky, The Light At The Top Of The World growing distant behind them. The Ghosts Of Voices Singing wrapped round them, singing of life, joy, love and sacrifice.
The pain in Borsen’s body grew as they spiraled down toward Erdahn – across the great city, past the Palace, down to his house, through the window, to the bed and the gaunt, broken frame he had been pulled from.
His moth
er bent, gently settling him back into his body.
“Always remember that you are Thrun, my little son,” she whispered. “Remember that you are from the first people of Eirdon.”
“Stay with me!” he begged, clinging to her.
“We are always with you,” she smiled. “If you listen, you will hear us – and wherever the shining stone you love is, there am I, my little man. Time to wake up now. Time to live.”
She rose away from him.
Borsen opened his eyes.
***
Hemmett jumped as a wild gust of wind blew the east window of Borsen’s room open with a bang.
Doctor Franz started, then continued sponging Borsen’s unresponsive body. Eiren held a steaming towel to Borsen’s feet, trying to to draw the fever away from his head.
Hemmett wrestled the window closed just as Stevahn walked into the room, an odd light in his eyes.
Franz jumped back suddenly, then bent back over Borsen.
“Look who’s here,” Franz said, his voice shaking.
Hemmett looked around and saw that Borsen’s eyes were open and moving from one face to another, squinting as he tried to focus.
Stevahn took Borsen’s glasses from the nightstand and slid them into place. Borsen smiled at him.
“Borsen, who am I?” Franz asked. Stevahn sank down on the side of the bed and put his hands on either side of Borsen’s face, gazing into his eyes.
“I’ve been talking to my mother,” Borsen said to Stevahn in the slightest whisper. “I was being taken to The Light At The Top Of The World by something bad, but she stopped it and brought me home.”
“Say something that makes sense,” Franz snapped.
“All right. That’s the ugliest shirt you own. It makes you look as yellow as a Surytamian and when I’m able, I’m going to burn it in the middle of the Promenade – Doctor Rainer Franz,” Borsen whispered, turning his eyes toward Franz.
Hemmett burst out laughing. Eiren sank down on the floor at the end of the bed and began to laugh and cry at once.
Love and Sacrifice: Book Two of the Prophecy Series Page 71