by P. C. Cast
My thoughts drifted back to what my college experience had taught me as I held the head of woman number six who, in the last few moments, had felt the compelling need to retch violently into what looked like a chamber pot straight out of Oliver Twist. Ugh.
In the ten years since I graduated from college I have changed my opinions and tastes about many things, but this is one thing that I hadn’t changed my opinion on one bit.
I am not, nor will I ever be, cut out to be a nurse. Period.
After she had finished puking, I wiped the woman’s face, surprised to notice under the layer of perspiration and sickness that she was young, probably only a teenager.
“Better?” I asked gently.
“Yes, my Lady.” Her voice was weak, but her lips fluttered up in a smile. “Your touch is so nice and cool.”
I helped her lie back, and brushed the hair from her damp forehead.
“Would you bless me, my Lady?” Her feeble-sounding question caught at my heart, as it had every time one of these people asked for my blessing.
As I had done so many times already that day that I had lost count, I bowed my head, closed my eyes and prayed, “Epona, please watch over and comfort this girl.”
Then I opened my eyes and smiled at her. “I’ll come back and check on you later,” I promised for what seemed like the zillionth time.
My feet dragged as I walked over to one of the pitchers that Carolan’s assistants kept filled with clean, hot water. I held out my hands and one of them poured water for me to wash with, and another dripped soap from a bottle into my chapped palms. As I rubbed my hands together I caught sight of Carolan making his way purposefully from one bed to another. His movements were steady and sure. He seemed inexhaustible.
After drying my hands I took a moment to stretch my back and roll my head around to try and loosen my tense neck muscles. Damn, my shoulders were killing me. I heard a weak voice call my name, and automatically I replied with an “I’ll be right there.” But I couldn’t seem to make my body move. My stomach growled and I wondered how long it had been since two of Carolan’s assistants had delivered to us a lunch of cheese, bread and cold meat. The cheese had been cut into hearts and Carolan and I had laughed aloud at Alanna’s gift to him.
Now I marveled at the fact that I had been able to laugh. Exhaustion tugged at me—and not just simple bodily exhaustion. I was overwhelmed. Here I was, trying to comfort people who were seriously ill. Me—an English teacher from Oklahoma. And they believed in me. They even wanted me to bless them.
Tell them stories, yes. Recite poetry to them, yes. Even explicate the symbolic meaning of Coleridge’s most obscure and bizarre writings, yes.
But be a goddess or a priestess, no.
I felt helpless, inept and uncharacteristically close to tears.
“Goddess,” a weak voice beckoned from the far side of the room.
“My Lady,” I heard Tarah calling from the part of the room where we had grouped the cases of medium severity.
“Lady Rhiannon,” another voice, a child’s, from the area of the most seriously ill.
I drew myself up, pushed strands of hair back into my makeshift ponytail and tried to collect myself, both mentally and physically. It was horrible. It was like being in a classroom filled with sick teenagers who were all begging for me to help them complete a page of complex algebraic equations. And I can’t do friggin algebra.
As I moved slowly toward the most ill of the voices calling me, I realized that was exactly it. They were like my students. And I needed to quit feeling sorry for myself and do what needed to be done.
So I didn’t like being a nurse.
The bottom line was I couldn’t get this horrible disease.
They were mine. I was responsible for them. In locoparentis was more than just an abstract term. It transcended worlds. And I needed to suck it up, quit whining and do my job. (Actually, one bright spot was the pay. I was pretty sure I made more in this world as a Goddess Incarnate than I did in Oklahoma as a schoolteacher. I mean, who doesn’t? I could look at it like it was kind of a promotion. And it certainly wasn’t as bad as being “promoted” to a position in administration.)
“What it is, sweetie?” I took a beaker of water that was sitting on a nearby stand and helped the child to take a sip. Her lips were cracked. Horrible pus-filled blisters covered her face, neck and arms. As she opened her mouth to try and drink, I saw red sores all over her tongue.
The water dribbled uselessly down her chin, and I wiped it up with the end of her sheet.
“Is Epona wonderful to ride?” Her young voice was raspy, as if she had been smoking for twenty years.
“Yes, honey.” I carefully dabbed her face with a damp cloth one of the assistants handed me. “Her gait is so smooth it’s like riding the wind.”
“Is it true she talks to you?” Her eyes, already bright with fever, captured mine. I recognized the fervor of a true horse lover.
“I think she does. She’s very smart, you know.”
The sick girl nodded weakly.
“What is your name, sweetheart?”
“Kristianna,” she whispered.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Kristianna.” Her eyes never left my own. “You get well, and I’ll take you to have a talk with her. Perhaps she will even tell you she’d like to take you for a ride.”
I was almost sorry I’d made the offer, because immediately she began trying to sit up.
“Hey! That means you have to rest and concentrate on getting well.”
The child settled back into the soiled linens with a sigh.
“Goddess,” she asked wistfully, “do you think she might really want to talk to me?”
Something within me whispered the words I spoke aloud. “Epona is always looking for young ones who are willing to hear her voice.”
“I want to hear her…” The child’s voice trailed off as sleep, or unconsciousness, overtook her.
I put the cloth down and looked sadly at her swollen face. “I hope you do, honey,” I whispered.
I felt the presence of heat encompass me from behind before I heard him say my name.
“Rhea?”
I turned and almost ran into ClanFintan’s muscular chest.
“Oh, hi.” I was acutely aware of how I looked. Something like the friggin redheaded stepsister of Medusa. And he looked strong and handsome and wonderful. As usual.
“We missed you at the warriors’ meeting.” His voice was like warm molasses pouring over my sore body.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying frantically to retie my hair into some semblance of propriety. But as I glanced down I noticed the vomit stains covering most of the front of my dress, so I gave up.
“I hope you explained to them why I was, uh, detained.”
“Yes, they understood and commended your sense of responsibility to the people.” ClanFintan had taken me by the arm and was propelling me toward the door as he spoke. I saw Carolan nod at him as he wrenched open the door and we emerged into what I realized with surprise was the waning light of the late afternoon sun as it peered sluggishly through the beveled glass of the hallway.
I found myself suddenly encompassed within the centaur’s strong arms.
“Ugh…” I tried futilely to pull away. “I’m disgustingly filthy.”
“Be still.” His deep, hypnotic voice washed over me. “I have missed you.”
That did make me be still. He missed me. I was sure I was smiling foolishly against him.
“And I worried about you, too.” He held me a little away from him so he could look into my face. “What is this magic Alanna tried to explain to me? Do you really have a talisman against the pox?”
“Yes.” I loved his worried expression. “It’s not really magic—it’s medicine. But, believe me, it works. I can’t get smallpox.”
“Good.” He crushed me against him and I felt his lips touch the top of my head. “I would not have any harm come to you.”
“I wouldn’
t have any harm come to me, either,” I tried to joke.
He squeezed me even harder against him. “This is not a matter for joking.”
“Sorry,” I squeaked, and he loosened his grip. “It’s just that I don’t particularly like this turn of events. I don’t want to shock you, but I’m not cut out to be a nurse.”
“That does not shock me. You do not like things that smell bad, and sick things smell bad.”
“Boy, that’s the truth.” I smiled sardonically. “Anyway, did Alanna tell you we think this pox is probably at the Temple of the Muse, too?”
“Yes,” he sighed. “That complicates our plan.”
“I’ll say—if we send human warriors up in that area they will be susceptible to this stuff. That can’t be good for an army.” I leaned back a little, still supported by the warm cradle of his arms. “Have you ever known of any centaurs getting anything like this pox?”
“No.” He sounded sure of himself. “The centaur race is not susceptible to pox.”
“That’s what I hoped.”
“Which means only centaur warriors will be allowed near the Muses. I have already sent a group of centaurs to their temple. They will tell them of our plan and report back to us of the health of the women at the temple.”
“It’s probably a mess. As awful as it might sound, we need to quarantine the temple and the area around it. We can send them supplies, but we cannot let humans from the temple further contaminate the rest of Partholon.”
“I agree. I have already spread word of the quarantine.” He eyed me critically. “And now it seems I must take care of you, too.”
“Huh?”
“Are you remembering that you have a rather full night ahead?” He looked at me quizzically.
In my best sexy Marilyn Monroe voice I cooed, “What did you have in mind?”
“Communicating with the Lord of the Fomorians.”
That certainly threw cold water on my X-rated thoughts. And, yes, somehow I’d forgotten all about that.
“Oh, yeah.”
“I wish there was another way. I still do not feel comfortable with you taunting this dark Lord.”
His thumbs traced lazy circles on the pulse points inside my elbows. I didn’t want to be involved in any scary dream-magic crap. I wanted to take a long bath, eat a big dinner and screw his brains out. But an insistent voice whispered that I had a job to do.
It was just too dang hard to ignore a goddess when she was inside your brain and tapped into your guilt button.
“I’m not particularly looking forward to it myself, but it has to be done.” I sighed and nuzzled against him. “You did say you were going to stay with me. Didn’t you?”
“Of course. I will always protect your body.”
I could think of many things I’d like for him to do to my body, protecting was the least of which.
“Good. Well, let me go in there and finish up. Then I’ll have some dinner, and you can help me figure out how to make this dream thing work.”
“The Goddess will lead you.” He took my chin in his hand and tilted my face up. “I will give you only a short time more. Then if you have not left, I will come carry you out of that room of contagion. You may not be able to get the pox, but you must be mindful of your health.”
“And of my husband, too?” I attempted to sound coquettish, but I didn’t think the puke on my clothes helped to set a sexy mood.
“Yes, your husband, too.” He ruffled my already mussed hair and turned me around. With a gentle push he propelled me back toward the sickroom door. “Remember, if you do not finish soon, I will come get you.”
“I love it when you’re rough,” I said over my shoulder as I reentered the room.
Coming back into pox hell was a serious wake-up call. The first thing I saw was Carolan slowly taking the end of a linen sheet and covering the face of one of the children who had been among the most severely ill. I hurried to his side.
“This is the first one—” his voice was low, so only I could hear it “—but she will not be the last.”
“ClanFintan says centaurs do not get the pox.”
“That, at least, is good news. Do you realize that twelve more cases were reported since this morning?”
No, I hadn’t realized. I’d been too busy dealing with what was in front of my face. I had thought the sickroom had seemed more crowded, but I’d chalked that up to my aversion to nursing.
“And five of the seven most serious cases will probably not live through the night.”
“How about that little girl?” I pointed discreetly to the small horse lover.
He shook his head sadly. “She is in Epona’s hands.”
“Damnit.”
Carolan motioned for a couple of his assistants to take the body away.
“The body is still contagious,” I said.
He looked at me in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate to say, “Take her to the room adjoining my clinic. We must build a pyre outside of the temple grounds in which to send her remains to Epona.”
I nodded my head, careful to make a distinctly public display of agreeing with him. “Epona wants all of the victims of the pox to be cremated in one place, away from the temple. She will receive their souls, but she does not wish the dead to contaminate the living.”
We watched them carry the small girl away.
Carolan spoke to one of his several competent assistants. “Have the parents of the girl notified of her death.”
“No.” This time I didn’t need a voice within to prod me into action. “It’s my job.” I spoke directly to the woman. “Bring them here. I’ll tell them.”
“As you say, my Lady.” She curtsied and hurried away.
“You do not have to. Rhiannon would not have done so.”
“I am not Rhiannon.” My frustration with his comment was obvious.
“No, you are not. Forgive me for evoking a comparison.” Carolan’s tired voice was rich with warmth.
“You’re forgiven.” We smiled at each other. “Hey, while we’re on the subject of your forgetfulness, are you remembering that this is your wedding night?”
I swear, underneath the layer of sweat and yuck he blushed. “Perhaps it has slipped my mind.”
“That could get you in trouble.”
He looked around helplessly. “How can I leave them?”
“You have wonderful assistants. Trust them. You have to take a break to sleep, or whatever.” I managed a tired grin of encouragement. “Clean up and go to her. Life is too unpredictable to waste a moment.”
“But—” he stammered.
“Take eight hours. You won’t be any good to your patients if you’re too tired to see straight. I’ll stay for a while and make sure things are in order.”
“Rhea, you have a good heart, but you are really not experienced in caring for the ill.”
“Tell me about it. Don’t worry, I’ll just delegate and look goddess-like.”
“Now, that you have experience in.”
Seems everyone had my number. I made a face at him as he began calling his assistants to him and giving them their orders. I could overhear him dividing them up into shifts, so that some could rest, then come relieve the night shift.
“Lady Rhiannon?” A tentative voice called me from the doorway.
It was the assistant who had been sent to get the dead child’s parents. I could see the shadowed forms of two people standing behind her in the hallway. I squared my shoulders and walked toward them.
During my first year of teaching I had the privilege of teaching one of those students. You know—the kind of student that completes the teacher. Sarah had been bright and funny and full of promise. She had also been more deeply troubled than any of us knew. She committed suicide shortly before her seventeenth birthday. Walking up to the podium to speak at her funeral, I had felt then much as I felt now, sure of only two things: a horrendous tragedy had happened, and whatever I could think to say wouldn’t change that.
“My Lady—” the assistant’s voice was hesitant “—these are the child’s parents.”
I turned to face the couple. They could have been the parents of any of my students. They held hands and had that look about them that said they knew what I was going to say but they wanted desperately not to hear it.
“I am so sorry, but your daughter died this evening.” I would have gone on, but the mother began sobbing. She clung to the husband as if she was unable to stand by herself. Suddenly, she straightened and, between sobs, asked, “May we see her?”
Oh, God. This was awful—they couldn’t even see their little girl.
“Her body still holds the disease. She has to be cremated quickly, at the behest of Epona.” Their looks of desperation made me change my mind and finish with, “You may not touch her, but you may say your goodbyes to her.”
I made a motion to the assistant for her to take them to see their daughter. Before they turned to go, the father reached out and grasped my hand.
“Goddess—” his voice shook “—were you with her when she died?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Yes,” I lied. “I was by her side, as was Epona.”
“Thank you. May you be blessed for your kindness.” They followed the assistant slowly, like their bodies were being turned to living stone.
Then I realized it wasn’t their bodies—it was only their hearts.
“Rhea, come away now.” ClanFintan stepped out of the shadows. He quickly occupied the space in front of me the parents had just vacated. His hands lifted to my face, and his warm thumbs wiped the tears from my cheeks.
“Come,” he repeated.
I nodded silently and let him lead me away from the scent of death.