by P. C. Cast
“Yes, ClanFintan briefed the warriors, and, as lead Huntress, I was included in the meeting.” Her expression was sincere. “It must be a terrible disease. I was sorry to hear your people have become infected, but he said Epona has given you a talisman against the disease.”
“Yes, well, I can’t catch it.” If only she knew. “But the rest of my people can.” She nodded, and I continued, “Even though we have quarantined the sick, many more are becoming ill. Our Healer, Carolan, has asked that I open the ballroom and use it as a kind of intermediary sickroom, so that the quarters of my maidens can be used for those who are most severely ill.”
“That seems logical.”
“The problem is we need to move the patients who aren’t severely ill to the ballroom, and Carolan has only a few assistants. Centaurs can’t catch smallpox. I know it’s an awful job, but they’re my people and I’m responsible, and—”
“What is it you require?” Victoria’s voice was very businesslike. She would have been a great corporate executive for one of those ritzy companies that build gazillion-floor high-rises (if she could’ve fit in the elevator).
“I need you and your Huntresses to help us move the people. And I think Carolan would appreciate it if he had some extra help. He’s looking pretty frazzled, and last time I checked, he was down to about four assistants. The rest are either exhausted, or more likely, they have become sick.” I looked her in the eye and asked, “Will you help us? I know this isn’t the job you came to do, but we need you.”
She studied me silently for a moment, then said, “Excuse me, Lady Rhea, if I seem taken aback. You are so different from what I expected.”
I quelled the urge to scream, I’m not that stupid, selfish, hateful Rhiannon, and let her finish.
“Yes, the Huntresses will aid you.” Her vibrant blue eyes pierced my worried greens. “And after meeting you, I believe you would return the favor should we need to call upon Epona for her aid.”
I nodded gratefully. “Of course I would. Women need to stick together.”
“As we shall.” She called to the female centaur nearest to us. “Elaine, gather the Huntresses. The humans need our help in tending to their sick.”
The beautiful bay centaur nodded at Victoria.
“And call Sila—we have need of a Healer. Have them meet us at—”
“My maidens’ chambers,” I supplied.
“Yes, Mistress.” Elaine left us to begin calling together the Huntresses.
“Show me the way to the sickroom, and tell me what needs to be done. My Huntresses are at your disposal.”
“This way,” I gestured and led, walking quickly so that her brisk stride didn’t clip my heels. As we made our way down the hall, she reached back and began efficiently braiding her long hair. She noticed I was watching her.
“If I am to care for the sick, it is better that my hair is out of the way.”
“Yeah, you’re telling me.” I pointed to one of my escaping curls. We had, by now, come within smelling range of the sickroom, and I wasn’t surprised when Victoria paused, sniffing suspiciously.
I studied her face, thinking I saw a familiar expression.
“I don’t like nursing the sick, either,” I offered.
Her expression perked up, and her laugh lines crinkled again as she made a face like she’d just bitten into a lemon. “It is truly not a job I enjoy.”
“Smells bad,” I said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “I would rather hunt wild boar.”
“Well, I think I’ve been hunted by several bores before, and while it wasn’t any fun, it was certainly more enjoyable than friggin nursing.”
“Friggin nursing?” she asked.
“I’m trying to quit cursing.”
She rolled her eyes before she nodded. “I, too, have a propensity for using inappropriate words.”
“You? I’m shocked!” Surely not Centaur Barbie!
We had come to the door, and I watched the young centaur guard’s blank expression change to adoration as he caught sight of Victoria. He drew himself up to his full height, and made a sweeping bow of greeting to Victoria (he glanced briefly my way to semi-include me, too).
“Well met, again, Mistress Victoria!” he said with enthusiasm.
The Huntress’s face didn’t register any recognition, so the centaur babbled on.
“Last evening’s meal—we supped at the same campfire.”
I worried for a second that he’d blow up if he didn’t relax and quit puffing his chest out. Then Victoria’s expression shifted into a benevolent half smile. “Oh, yes.” She paused and thought before she added, “Willie. How could I forget the name of the chivalrous centaur who gave up his place at the campfire for me?” She touched his arm in a friendly caress and I thought he’d wiggle out of his skin. “Willie,” she breathed, “would you do me another service by directing my Huntresses within when they come?”
“Anything for you, Mistress!” His voice broke adorably on the word Mistress, like the poor thing hadn’t finished going through puberty yet.
“Thank you.” Her voice was husky as we passed him and entered the sickroom. “I will remember your devotion.”
The door shut (reluctantly) behind us, and Victoria and I exchanged amused glances. She rolled her eyes.
“Was he a centaur or a puppy?” I asked.
“Both,” she laughed. “Colts are so endearing.”
“Rhea!” The strain that was evident in Carolan’s voice sobered us. He quickly crossed the room. “I see you brought the marines.”
“I’ll explain later,” I said in answer to Victoria’s look of inquiry. Turning back to Carolan, I made the hasty introductions.
“Victoria, Lead Huntress of the Centaurs, I would like you to meet our Healer, Carolan.” They nodded a greeting to each other.
“We are at your disposal, Carolan. My Huntresses and our own Healer will be joining us shortly. How can we be of assistance?” Victoria’s brisk voice said she could handle anything, and Carolan gratefully began explaining what he needed. I felt the urge to belt out a verse of “I Am Woman,” but I settled for silently mixing the lyrics around in my head to fit the occasion (“I Am Centaur Hear Me Neigh?” Nope, it didn’t rhyme).
“Lady Rhiannon?” A weak voice interrupted my bad songwriting. I looked around and caught sight of a small hand raised weakly in my direction. I swallowed a sigh and headed toward the pallet.
“Hi, Kristianna.” It was the little horse lover. She looked awful, but she was still alive. The blisters on her face, neck and arms that yesterday had been pea-size and watery, were now pus-filled and angry-looking. Her face was flushed and her lips were cracked.
“C-c-centaurs…” She managed a ragged whisper, and her unnaturally bright eyes shifted in the direction of the door, where Carolan and Victoria had been joined by half a dozen female centaurs.
“Yes, centaurs. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” I made eye contact with a passing assistant, and she handed me a cool, wet cloth, with which I tried to blot some of the sweat from the girl’s forehead. I cringed internally every time the fabric touched a pustule—I was afraid I was causing her more pain than I was helping. But her gaze had fastened upon the Huntresses and she seemed almost oblivious to me.
“S-s-s-so p-pretty.” I had to bend to hear her.
“Honey, you rest. I’m going to go see if I can get you some tea to soothe your throat.”
Her eyes shifted back to mine; she refocused on me and nodded painfully.
“Hurts.”
“I know. Close your eyes and rest.”
Rejoining the group by the door I wished fervently for something that would make that little girl feel better.
“Don’t you have anything you can give them for the pain?” I blurted at Carolan.
“I have been giving them mixtures of willow bark and chamomile, but those who need it the most cannot swallow well enough to get enough of it into their systems,” he said sadly.
A petite roan-colored cent
aur I had not seen before stepped forward. Her curly auburn hair had been cropped short in a chin-length bob, parted at the side and tossed back behind one small ear. She wore a leather top that was more formfitting and utilitarian than the Huntress’s ornate vests.
“A patient has to swallow only a small amount of juice from the poppy for it to relax them. Perhaps if they were given the poppy extract first, they could then be coaxed into drinking more of your tea mixture.” Her voice was a pleasant surprise—gentle and easy to listen to. I was instantly drawn to her.
“Let me introduce our Healer, Sila,” Victoria said.
“The poppy extract is an excellent idea. Unfortunately we have very little of the elixir. Our supply comes from the fields around Laragon Castle.” Carolan shrugged helplessly. “Laragon is no more.”
“Poppies grow in profusion on the centaur plains, I have an ample supply with me, and I will send immediately for more.”
“We would be in your debt,” I said gratefully. “You are an answer to our prayers.”
“If I am an answer to your prayers, Beloved of Epona, it is the Goddess you are indebted to, not me.” The Healer’s expression was gracious and open.
The thought passed through my mind that she must be an exceptional Healer if just the sound of her voice was so soothing.
Then she turned her attention to Victoria. “Huntress, please have a runner bring my trunk of medicines so that we can start relieving these people of their pain.”
Victoria caught my eye and raised her eyebrows at me. “I know a young centaur who would be happy to be our runner.”
“Yours, anyway,” I mumbled and she turned, flicking her tail at me as she opened the door. I could hear her sexy voice calling for Willie. The sound of his eager hooves scrambling to do her bidding echoed off the walls.
“You’re going to cause that boy to have cardiac problems,” I said as she rejoined us, looking smug.
“His heart is young, he will be fine,” she said, but her satisfied grin said she enjoyed the thought of the possibility. Then she shifted from Flirtatious Naughty Centaur Barbie to Corporate Executive Centaur Barbie. “Carolan, show us which patients need to be moved. We can use the pallets as litters to transport them.”
“All the patients who have yellow ribbons tied to their wrists need to be moved. The others must remain here.”
“The ones who are staying are the most seriously ill?” Sila asked in a hushed voice.
“Yes.”
“Then it is here that I will concentrate my efforts.” She went to the washup area and began scrubbing her hands.
The rest of the centaurs got to work.
CHAPTER 8
It was amazing how quickly things fell into place. The Huntresses were fast, efficient and well organized. Victoria seemed to be in several places at once, and it amused me to see that the adoring Willie looked exhausted long before the lady centaurs began showing any signs of slowing down.
I tried to be helpful, but mostly I just stayed out of their way. Interestingly enough, I found myself assisting Sila as she worked among the seriously ill. It was a testimony to her talent when, after watching her tend to the first few patients, Carolan announced that he was going to the ballroom to get the patients there situated and medicated, and he would be leaving Sila in charge with only one of his assistants and me to act as her “team” of nurses.
Great.
Like the previous day, time blurred as my world narrowed to caring for the sick. Sila worked tirelessly to ease her patients’ pain. First, I helped dribble thick poppy liquid down the closing throats of the most ill, relieved each time the drug took effect and I saw their grimaces of pain relax. Then we began following the poppy dosages with tea. Sila explained to me which was willow bark, used to fight pain and inflammation (sounded kind of like liquid aspirin), and which was chamomile. I already knew chamomile was soothing for upset stomachs and helped relieve stress (my students give me copious amounts of herbal tea for Christmas and end-of-year presents, probably thinking it might make me “chill out”—silly children).
Carolan’s prediction of the day’s casualties had been close to correct. Five new patients were admitted to our ICU, and I counted four deaths—two young girls, one of my maidens and one infant boy. It seemed as if I had only taken one long, sustained breath, and hadn’t really had time to let it out, when I realized that the torches and candles had been lit for several hours. I felt like my feet were going to pulse out of my sandals, and my shoulders were vibrating with tension.
“Lady Rhea, Sila.” Victoria’s voice caught my attention. I looked up from the bed of a wheezing boy to see that she had entered the sickroom with six new female centaurs who looked fresh and awake. “These postulants of Diana are here to relieve you.”
“Good,” I tried not to cheer. Actually, I was too tired to cheer. “Come on, Sila, let’s wash up and go eat.”
I watched Sila as she bent over an elderly woman, coaxing her to swallow just a little bit more tea. She looked a lot like she had when I’d met her this morning. Her auburn hair curled around her face, softening her prominent cheekbones. Kindness and compassion radiated from her. She looked content and rested, which confused me because I was sure I looked like an exhausted bag lady.
“You go ahead, Lady Rhea, I will stay and oversee the young ones.” She gestured to the eager young centaur females.
I started to open my mouth to protest, but (thank God!) Victoria stopped me by saying, “ClanFintan told me to carry you out of here if I had to.” She looked askance at me and continued, “But I would truly rather not lift another human today.”
“Okay, okay! Sila, I’ll have supper sent to you.”
“I have already ordered it.” Victoria gave me an insulted look. “I knew our Healer would not leave the sick so soon.”
So soon! We’d been nursing all friggin day!
“Go to your husband,” Sila ordered when I just stood there like an idiot.
I gave in gracefully. “Have someone come wake me in the morning.” As I passed by Kristianna’s bed I paused to look at her flushed face. She appeared to be sleeping, but her breathing was labored.
“There is nothing more you can do for her.” Sila had joined me beside the child’s bed. “She is in the hands of your Goddess.”
“Come get me if…” I didn’t want to say it.
“I will. Now, go.” She pushed me toward Victoria. Before we were out the door I could hear that she was already issuing orders to the newcomers.
Victoria and I walked slowly down the hall in silence. I glanced at her and was pleased to see that she, too, looked dirty and tired.
“How’s a soak in my mineral bath sound?”
“How large is it?”
I let my eyes travel the length of her body before answering. “Large enough.”
“Good—humans sometimes do things in a small way.” She didn’t sound like she was trying to be offensive; she just sounded like she was stating an unfortunate fact.
“Not Lady Rhiannon, Beloved and Chosen of Epona.” I stuck my dirty nose up in the air.
Her eyes crinkled in a tired smile. “Of course, how foolish of me to forget.”
“That’s because goddesses aren’t usually covered in puke and poop.” I picked at a dried ball of yuck that was half stuck to my coronet, and half stuck to my hair. “And I think I have snot in my hair.”
“That could have something to do with it.” She rubbed at a spot on her cheek that was crusty with something as equally disgusting. “Being High Priestess should be more glamorous.”
“Well, I always thought I wanted to be a goddess.” I sighed theatrically. We looked at each other, smiling at our fatigue-induced silliness.
Thankfully, we were soon at the door that led to my bathing chamber. My guard opened the door. I noticed he was staring at my general state of disheveledness with a stunned expression. I gave him a haughty frown, and before he closed the door I said, “Get a life. I’m too damn busy to be imma
culate.”
His eyeballs bugged out in shock. Rhiannon’s boys were certainly in for some confusing days ahead.
My bathing room was familiar and comfortable, and I inhaled a deep breath of pure sensory delight as the mineral fumes from the steaming pool wafted over me.
“This is a lovely chamber.” Victoria was already shedding her skimpy vest.
“Thanks, I really like it.” I followed suit and awkwardly disentangled myself from Alanna’s morning wrapping job. Over my shoulder I said to the beautiful, now bare-chested Huntress (yes, her breasts were large and perfectly rounded—the bitch), “Go ahead and get in. Be careful, though, the steps are a little steep.”
I finally rid myself of my dirty dress and stepped out of my teeny thong, just in time to see Victoria making her way gingerly to the deepest part of the pool, which covered her about midway up on her well-formed breasts. I stepped down into the warm water and was soon settled comfortably on my ledge, leaning back so that the water sloshed up to my chin. Victoria must have done some unhorselike maneuvering of her legs, because she relaxed in water that was suddenly up to her neck.
“Mmm,” she sighed contentedly. “We have no mineral springs in the Centaur Plains, just cold, clear water from springs.”
I remembered my little dalliance with ClanFintan at the country pool. Little wonder he knew his way around the sand soap.
“It’s great to soak in. Here…” I threw her one of the several bottles of my favorite soap, which just happened to be lying beside the pool within my arm’s reach (Note to self: thank Alanna). “This stuff is great.”
She uncorked the bottle and sniffed delicately, then said with surprise, “It smells like sand soap, only with more—” she sniffed again “—vanilla.”
“Yeah, it’s cool.” I grabbed a bottle for myself and started to lather up.
“Cool? I feel nothing cold.” She was holding a puddle of soap in her hand, staring at it like it was a glob of bugs.
“It’s just an expression,” I explained. “It means something’s nice, or you really like something.”
She shook her head at me as she began scrubbing herself free of smallpox scum. “You have an odd way of speaking.”