Leesha let out a choked sob, and Jizell was there in an instant, holding her tightly as she cried. 'There, there, poppet,' she soothed, stoking Leesha's hair, 'it's not as bad as all that.'
After supper, when the wards were checked, the stripers sent home to their mothers, and the apprentices to their studies, Leesha and Jizell finally had time to brew a pot of herb tea and open the satchel from the morning Messenger. A lamp sat on the table, full and trimmed for long use.
'Patients all day and letters all night,' Jizell sighed. 'Thank light Herb Gatherers don't need sleep, eh?' She upended the bag, spilling parchment all over the table.
They quickly separated out correspondence meant for the patients, and then Jizell grabbed a bundle at random, glancing at the hail. 'These are yours,' she said, passing the bundle to Leesha and snatching another letter off the pile, which she opened and began to read.
'This one's from Kimber,' she said after a moment. Kimber was another of Jizell's apprentices sent abroad, this one to Farmer's Stump, a days ride to the south. 'The cooper's rash has gotten worse, and spread again.'
'She's brewing the tea wrong; I just know it,' Leesha groaned. 'She never lets it steep long enough, and then wonders at her weak cures. If I have to go to Farmer's Stump and brew it for her, I'll give her such a thumping!'
'She knows it,' Jizell laughed. 'That's why she wrote to me this time!'
The laughter was infectious, and Leesha soon joined in. Leesha loved Jizell. She could be as hard as Bruna when the occasion demanded, but she was always quick to laugh.
Leesha missed Bruna dearly, and the thought turned her back to the bundle. It was Fourthday, when the weekly Messenger arrived from Farmer's Stump, Cutter's Hollow, and points south. Sure enough, the hail of the first letter in the stack was in her father's neat script.
There was a letter from Vika, as well, and Leesha read that one first, her hands clenching as always until she was assured that Bruna, older than ancient, was still well.
'Vika's given birth,' she noted. 'A boy, Jame. Six pounds eleven ounces.'
'Is that the third?' Jizell asked.
'Fourth,' Leesha said. Vika had married Child Jona - now Tender Jona - not long after arriving in Cutter's Hollow, and wasted no time in bearing him children.
'Not much chance of her coming back to Angiers, then,' Jizell lamented.
Leesha laughed. 'I thought that was given after the first,' she said.
It was hard to believe seven years had passed since she and Vika exchanged places. The temporary arrangement was proving permanent, which didn't entirely displease Leesha.
Regardless of what Leesha did, Vika would stay in Cutter's Hollow, and seemed better liked there than Bruna, Leesha, and Darsy combined. The thought gave Leesha a sense of freedom she never dreamt existed. She'd promised to return one day to ensure the Hollow had the Gatherer it needed, but the Creator had seen to that for her, Her future was hers to choose.
Her father wrote he had caught a chill, but Vika was tending him, and he expected to recover quickly. The next letter was from Mairy; her eldest daughter already flowered and promised, Mairy would likely be a grandmother soon. Leesha sighed.
There were two more letters in the bundle. Leesha corresponded with Mairy, Vika, and her father almost every week, but her mother wrote less often, and oftentimes in a fit of pique.
'All well?' Jizell asked, glancing up from her own reading to see Leesha's scowl.
'Just my mum,' Leesha said, reading. 'The tone changes with her humours, but the message stays the same: 'Come home and have children before you grow too old and the Creator takes the chance from you." Jizell grunted and shook her head.
Tucked in with Elona's letter was another sheet, supposedly from Gared, though the missive was in her mother's hand, for Gared knew no letters. But whatever pains she took to make it seem dictated, Leesha was sure at least half the words were her mother's alone, and most likely the other half as well. The content, as with her mother's letters, never changed. Gared was well. Gared missed her. Gared was waiting for her. Gared loved her.
'My mother must think me very stupid,' Leesha said wryly as she read, 'to believe Gared would ever even attempt a poem, much less one that didn't rhyme.'
Jizell laughed, but it died prematurely when she saw Leesha had not joined her.
'What if she's right?' Leesha asked suddenly. 'Dark as it is to think Elona right about anything, I do want children one day, and you don't need to be an Herb Gather to know that my days to do it are fewer ahead than behind. You said yourself I've wasted my best years.'
'That was hardly what I said,' Jizell replied.
'It's true enough,' Leesha said sadly. 'Even after Gared and Marick, I always felt the right man would just…come along one day. That I'd see him and know…'
'We all dream that sometimes, dear,' Jizell said, 'and it's a nice enough fantasy once a while, when you're staring at the wall, but you can't hang your hopes on it.'
Leesha squeezed the letter in her hand, crumpling it a bit.
'So you're thinking of going back and marrying this Gared?' Jizell asked.
'Oh, Creator, no!' Leesha cried. 'Of course not!'
Jizell grunted. 'Good. You've saved me the trouble of thumping you on the head.'
'Much as my belly longs for a child,' Leesha said, 'I'll die a maid before I let Gared give me one. Problem is, he'd have at any other man in the Hollow that tried.'
'Easily solved,' Jizell said. 'Have children here.'
'What?' Leesha asked.
'Cutter's Hollow is in good hands with Vika,' Jizell said. I trained the girl myself, and her heart is there now in any event.' She leaned in, putting a meaty hand on top of Leesha's. 'Stay,' she said. 'Make Angiers your home and take over the hospit when I retire.'
Leesha's eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
'You've taught me as much as I've taught you these years,' Jizell went on. 'There's no one else I trust to run my business, even if Vika returned tomorrow.'
'I don't know what to say,' Leesha managed.
'No rush to say anything,' Jizell said, patting Leesha's hand. 'I daresay I don't plan to retire any day soon. Just think on it.'
Leesha nodded. Jizell opened her arms, and she fell into them, embracing the older woman tightly. As they parted, a shout from outside made them jump.
'Help! Help!' someone cried. They both glanced at the window. It was past dark.
Opening one's shutters at night in Angiers was a crime punishable by whipping, but Leesha and Jizell gave it no thought as they threw open the bar, seeing a trio of city guardsmen running down the boardwalk, two of them each carrying another man.
'Ay, the hospit!' the lead guard called, seeing the shutters open on the lamplit room. 'Open your doors! Succour! Succour! Succour and healing!'
As one, Leesha and Jizell bolted for the stairs, nearly tumbling down in their haste to get to the door. It was winter, and though the city's Warders worked diligently to keep the wardnet clear of snow, ice, and dead leaves, a few wind demons invariably found their way in each night, hunting homeless beggars and waiting for the occasional fool that dared defy curfew and the law. A wind demon could drop like a silent stone and then spread its taloned wings in a sudden snap, eviscerating a victim before grasping the body in its rear claws and swooping away with it.
They made it to the landing and threw open the door, watching as the men approached. The lintels were warded; they and their patients were safe enough even without the door.
'What's happening?' Kadie cried, sticking her head out over the balcony at the top of the stairs. Behind her, the other apprentices were pouring out of their room.
'Put your aprons back on and get down here!' Leesha ordered, and the younger girls scrambled to obey.
The men were still a ways off, but running hard. Leesha's stomach clenched as she heard shrieks in the sky. There were wind demons about, drawn to the light and commotion.
But the guards were closing t
he distance fast, and Leesha dared to hope that they would make it unscathed until one of the men slipped on a patch of ice and went down hard. He screamed, and the man he was carrying tumbled to the boardwalk.
The guard still with a man over his shoulder shouted something to the other, and put his head down, picking up speed. The unburdened man turned and rushed back to his fallen comrade.
A sudden flap of leathery wings was the only warning before the head of the hapless guard flew free of his body, rolling across the boardwalk. Kadie screamed. Before blood even began to spurt from the wound, the wind demon gave a shriek and launched skyward, hauling the dead man's body into the air.
The laden guard passed the wards, hauling his charge to safety. Leesha looked back to the remaining man, struggling to rise, and her brow set.
'Leesha, no’ Jizell cried, grabbing at her, but Leesha stepped nimbly aside and bolted out onto the boardwalk.
She ran in sharp zigzag as the shrieks of wind demons rang out in the cold air above. One coreling attempted a dive attack anyway and missed her completely, if only by a few inches. It tumbled into the boardwalk with a crash, but quickly righted itself, its thick hide unharmed by the impact. Leesha spun away, hurling a fistful of Bruna's blinding powder into its eyes. The creature roared in pain, and Leesha ran on.
'Save him, not me!' the guard called as she drew near, pointing to the still form lying on the boardwalk. The guard's ankle was at an odd angle, clearly broken. Leesha glanced at the other form, prone on the boardwalk. She could not carry them both.
'Not me!' the guard called again as she drew close.
Leesha shook her head. 'I've a better chance of getting you to safety,' she said, in a tone that brooked no debate. She got under his arm and heaved.
'Keep low,' the guard gasped. 'Windies are less apt to dive at things low to the ground.'
She hunched as much as she could, staggering under the big man's weight, and knew they were not going to make it at the shuffling pace, low or not.
'Now!' Jizell cried, and Leesha looked up to see Kadie and the other apprentices run out onto the boardwalk, holding the edges of white sheets above their heads. The fluttering cloth was almost everywhere, making it impossible for the wind demons to pick a target.
Under this cover, Mistress Jizell and the first guard came rushing up to them. Jizell helped Leesha as the guard fetched the unconscious man. Fear gave them all strength, and they covered the remaining distance quickly, retreating into the hospit and barring the door.
'This one's dead,' Jizell said, her voice cold. 'I'd wager he's been gone over an hour.'
'I almost sacrificed myself for a dead man?' the guard with the broken ankle exclaimed. Leesha ignored him, moving over to the other injured man.
With his round, freckled face and slender form, he seemed more a boy than a man. He had been badly beaten, but he was breathing, and his heart was strong. Leesha inspected him swiftly, cutting away his bright patchwork clothes as she probed for broken bones and searched for the sources of the blood that soaked his motley.
'What happened?' Jizell asked the injured guard, as she inspected the break in his ankle.
'We were headin' in from last patrol,' the guard said through gritted teeth. 'Found these two, Jongleurs by their look, lyin' on the walk. Must'a been robbed after a show. They was both alive, but in a bad way. It was dark by then, but neither of them looked like they'd last the night without a Gatherer to tend them. I remembered this hospit, and we ran hard as we could, tryin' to stay under eaves, outta sight from windies.'
Jizell nodded. 'You did the right thing,' she said.
'Tell that to poor Jonsin,' the guard said. 'Creator, what will I tell his wife?'
'That's a worry for the morrow,' Jizell said, lifting a flask to the man's lips. 'Drink this.'
The guard looked at her dubiously. 'What is it?' he asked.
'It will put you to sleep,' Jizell said. 'I need to set your ankle, and I promise you, you don't want to be awake when I do.'
The guard nodded, and quaffed the potion quickly.
Leesha was cleaning out the younger one's wounds when he started awake with a gasp, sitting up. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but the other was a bright green, and darted about wildly. 'Jaycob!' he cried.
He thrashed wildly, and it took Leesha, Kadie, and the last guard to wrestle him back down. He turned his one piercing eye on Leesha. 'Where is Jaycob?' he asked. 'Is he all right?'
'The older man who was found with you?' Leesha asked, and he nodded.
Leesha hesitated, picking her words, but the pause was answer enough, and he screamed, thrashing again. The guard pinned him hard, looking him in the eyes.
'Did you see who did this to you?' he asked.
'He's in no condition…' Leesha began, but the man cut her off with a glare.
'I lost a man tonight,' he said. 'I don't have time to wait.' He turned back to the boy. 'Well?' he asked.
The boy looked at him with eyes filling with tears. Finally, he shook his head, but the guard didn't let up. 'You must have seen something,' he pressed.
'That's enough,' Leesha said, grabbing the man's wrists and pulling hard. He resisted for a moment, and then let go. 'Wait in the other room,' she ordered. He scowled, but complied.
The boy was weeping openly when Leesha turned back to him. 'Just put me back out into the night,' he said, holding up a crippled hand. 'I was meant to die a long time ago, and everyone that tries to save me ends up dead.'
Leesha took the crippled hand in hers and looked him in the eye. 'I'll take my chances,' she said, squeezing. 'We survivors have to look out for one another.' She put the flask of sleeping draught to his lips, and held his hand, lending him strength until his eyes slipped closed.
The sound of fiddling filled the hospit. Patients clapped their hands, and the apprentices and stripers danced as they went about their tasks. Even Leesha and Jizell had a spring in their step.
'To think young Rojer was worried he had no way to pay,' Jizell said as they prepared lunch. 'I've half a mind to pay him to come entertain the patients after he's back on his feet.'
'The patients and the girls love him,' Leesha agreed.
'I've seen you dancing when you think no one is looking,' Jizell said.
Leesha smiled. When he wasn't fiddling, Rojer spun tales that had the apprentices clustered at the foot of his bed, or taught the stripers makeup tricks he claimed came from the duke's own courtesans. Jizell mothered him constantly, and the apprentices and stripers all shined and doted on him.
'An extra-thick slice of beef for him, then,' Leesha said, cutting the meat and laying it on a platter already over-laden with potatoes and fruit.
Jizell shook her head. 'I don't know where that boy puts it,' she said. 'You and the others have been stuffing him for a full moon and more, and he's still thin as a reed.'
'Lunch!' she bellowed, and the girls filtered in to collect the trays. Roni moved directly for the over-laden one, but Leesha swept it out of reach. 'I'll take this one myself,' she said, smiling at the looks of disappointment around the kitchen.
'Rojer needs to take a break and eat something, not spin private tales while you girls cut his meat,' Jizell said. 'You can all fawn on him later.'
'Intermission!' Leesha called as she swept into the room, but she needn't have bothered. The bow slipped from the fiddle strings with a squeak the moment she appeared. Rojer smiled and waved, knocking over a wooden cup as he tried to set his fiddle aside. His broken fingers and arm had mended neatly, but his leg casts were still on strings, and he could not easily reach the bedstand.
'You must be hungry today,' she laughed, setting the tray across his lap and taking the fiddle. Rojer looked at the tray dubiously, smiling up at her.
'I don't suppose you could help me cut?' he asked, holding up his crippled hand.
Leesha raised her eyebrows at him. 'Your fingers seem nimble enough when you work your fiddle,' she said. 'Why are they deficient now?'
'
Because I hate eating alone,' Rojer laughed.
Leesha smiled, sitting on the side of the bed and taking the knife and fork. She cut a thick bite of meat, dragging it through the gravy and potatoes before bringing it up to Rojer's mouth. He smiled at her, and a bit of gravy leaked from his mouth, making Leesha titter. Rojer blushed, his fair cheeks turning as red as his hair.
'I can lift the fork myself,' he said.
'You want me to just cut up the meat and leave?' Leesha asked, and Rojer shook his head vigorously. 'Then hush,' she said, lifting another forkful to his mouth.
'It's not my fiddle, you know,' Rojer said, glancing back to the instrument after a few moments of silence. 'It's Jaycob's. Mine was broken when…'
Leesha frowned as he trailed off. After more than a month, he still refused to speak of the attack, even when pressed by the guard. He'd sent for his few possessions, but so far as she knew, he hadn't even contacted the Jongleur's Guild to tell them what had happened.
'It wasn't your fault,' Leesha said, seeing his eyes go distant. 'You didn't attack him.'
'I might as well have,' Rojer said.
'What do you mean?' Leesha asked.
Rojer looked away. 'I mean…by forcing him from retirement. He'd still be alive if…'
'You said he told you coming out of retirement was the best thing that had happened to him in twenty years,' Leesha argued. 'It sounds like he lived more in that short time than he would have in years spent in that cell in the guildhouse.'
Rojer nodded, but his eyes grew wet. Leesha squeezed his hand. 'Herb Gatherers see death often,' she told him. 'No one, no one, ever goes to the Creator with all their business complete. We all get a different length of time, but it needs to be enough, regardless.'
'It just seems to come early for the people who cross my path,' Rojer sighed.
'I've seen it come early for a great many who have never heard of Rojer Halfgrip,' Leesha said. 'Would you like to shoulder the blame for their deaths, as well?'
Rojer looked at her, and she pressed another forkful into his mouth. 'It doesn't serve the dead to stop living yourself, out of guilt,' she said.
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