Nerilka's Story

by Anne McCaffrey

  I crossed the yard to the Harper Hall. Anella might have many things on her mind more important than the pharmaceutical stores, but eventually someone would inform her that it was Lady Nerilka whom she required. And she surely would tell my father of my insolence. When he emerged from his isolation, I had no doubt that he would deliver a thorough and painful chastisement. I might as well merit every blow. Meanwhile, it was my right to dispense those medicinal supplies as required, and I was determined that the healers would have full benefit of them.

  I was directed to the Hall kitchens by a cheerful young apprentice and made my way there, reflecting that I seemed to be spending a lot more time in kitchens these days.

  "I'll need the glass bottles sterilized, and that means fifteen minutes in water at the rolling boil and no cheating on the sands," Desdra was saying to the journeyman. "Now, I'll, Lady Nerilka!" There was about Desdra a buoyancy that had been absent the previous day.

  "Master Capiam is better?"

  "Himself again, I'm glad to say. Not everyone who gets the plague needs to die of it. Anyone ill in Fort Hold?"

  "If you mean my sire, he keeps to his apartments but is well enough to issue orders."

  "So I heard." Desdra's wry smile informed me that she found the change tasteless.

  "While I am still in charge of the pharmacy, what are your needs?"

  Desdra had turned to watch the journeyman, her mind clearly on more urgent matters. She looked back at me with a smile, however. "Can you decoct, infuse, and blend?"

  "I supply all our medicinal needs."

  "Then prepare a cough syrup, tussilago by preference. Here, let me give you the recipe that I have found efficacious." She had a scrap of hide in her hand, a charcoal stick in the other; hastily, but legibly, she scrawled measurements and ingredients. "Don't balk at adding numbweed, that is the only thing that depresses the terrible racking cough." Then she consulted another list in her hand. She was distracted by my presence. "And has your mother, oh, I beg your pardon." She touched my hand in apology, her eyes troubled to have caused me pain. "Have you a restorative soup? We shall need kettles of restorative soups."

  I thought of Felim's reaction to yet another bizarre request, but the small night hearth could be used, and all kinds of scraps go into the soup pot. The last place Anella would think to find me would be in the hot, small, inner kitchen.

  "Cook, cool it into jelly. It'll transport better that way." She had one eye on the sands that were only grains away from her fifteen minutes, at the rolling boil.

  I left her to her task, hoping it bode well. There was a suppressed excitement about Desdra that could not be due entirely to the Master Harper's recovery. Was she brewing a cure?

  Fortunately it took all day to concoct both the restorative soup and Desdra's cough syrup. The tussilago really did numb the lining of the throat. I improved the taste with a harmless flavoring and filled two demijohns with the mixture, reserving a large flask for Hold use, should it be required. I made a note of the syrup in the Record.

  When Sim and I brought the products of my day's labors over to the Hall, the air of suppressed excitement that I had noted in Desdra was now rampant, but I could find out nothing from the journeyman who took syrup and soup from me. He thanked me profusely enough, but plainly had other tasks pending.

  It was hard to wish to help, to be capable of offering capable help, and not find a market for it, I thought as I plodded back across the nightdark yard. There were lights on in my father's quarters and in what had been my mother's. But no one was at the window, spying on unidentifiable flaunters of stupid rules.

  I looked over my shoulder at the despicable internment camp and saw the guards on there rounds between the glowbasket standards. Was that where my soup and syrup would go? If that was its destination, my day had been profitable. With my spirits lifted, I continued back to the Hold.

  Chapter 6

  3.16.43

  Campen found me the next morning preparing to make more soup. "So this is where you are! Anella is looking for you."

  "She's been looking for a Lady Nalka, and there is no one by that name in the Hold."

  Campen snorted with disgust. "You know perfectly well she means you."

  "Then she should summon me by name. I'll not go otherwise."

  "In the meantime, she's making life very difficult for our sisters, and they miss our mother enough without having to put up with her carpings."

  I was instantly repentant. In my own misery and guilt, I had forgotten that Lilla and Nia needed my presence and support.

  "She must have new gowns, suitable to her position. Your needlework is the best."

  "Kista was the best needlewoman among us," I told him angrily. "And Merin sewed the straightest seam. But I'll go."

  It was not a pleasant interview, and I knew that my behavior could be faulted on several counts. To add insult to injury, Anella was younger than I by several Turns, and keenly aware of that and of my greater height. But, knowing that I had deliberately disregarded her summonses, I took the tongue lashing in silence, and took some consolation in the fact that she had to crane her neck at an awkward angle to berate me. She looked like a wherry hen, strutting about in a heavy dressing gown far too ornate to suit her thin body and falling off her bottle necked shoulders so that she had to jerk it frequently back into place. She lacked dignity, experience, sense, and humor.

  "So how do you account for your absence these past two days? Where have you been? For if you've been sneaking off to meet some holder, "

  At that accusation I decided I had had enough of her rantings. "I have been preparing restorative soups and cough syrups, and checking our medicinal supplies in case they should be needed." She flushed at my reminder of the present crisis. "The pharmacy has been my responsibility in this Hold."

  "Why wasn't I told that was where you were? Your father, " She abruptly closed her lips.

  "My father would not have known my especial duties. It was my mother's place to order such domestic affairs."

  She gave me a searching glance, but I had kept my voice bland and chosen my words carefully.

  "No one around here tells me anything I need to know," she complained. "If your name is not Nalka, what is it?"

  "Nerilka."

  "Close enough. Why did you not come at my bidding?" She grew angry again.

  "I was not told."

  "But they knew you were the one I wanted to see!"

  "The entire Hold is still distracted by grief and anxiety."

  She clamped her lips into a thin line, but what she wished to say was sparking out of her eyes, which were beginning once again to protrude with her attempts to control her agitations. She swished off to the window and stood looking out, twitching the gown back up her shoulders several times. Abruptly she whirled back.

  "Your mother had everything so well organized in this Hold that I'm sure she had drapery stores and patterns. You may come with me to choose suitable lengths for my new wardrobe."

  "Aunt Sira is in charge of Weaving."

  "I don't need the Weaving Aunt. I need your sewing skills. You have those as well, do you not?" When I nodded, she went on. "Now where are the keys?" I pointed to the small chest on top of the press. With a cry of exasperation she leaped toward it, wrenching the drawer out in her haste to secure the keys to her new dignities. She had to hold the massive ring in both hands. "But which one? And which unlocks the jewelry safe? And the spice closet?"

  "The stories are color coded. The housekeeping keys are the smaller ones, room keys the larger. Hall keys larger still, and gold. All kitchen stores are green."

  So I was forced to spend the rest of the morning taking my stepmother from story to story and as far down the sublevels as she insisted we go. I answered every question willingly and fully, but volunteered no information without seeming to withhold any. Afterward, I don't know if I was more disgusted with myself or with her general ignorance of Hold management. Had her mother not required her to do anything,
and she the only daughter in the hold? I only hoped that my father would rue the day he let his infatuation overwhelm common sense. And the inconsistency of his complaint against my one suitor, Garben, who came from, no more or less, the same sort of family as Anella's. I also knew suddenly, and with complete certainty, that I would not be in Fort Hold to see his awakening to reality.

  Anella required my presence to cut and start seaming several gowns for herself. She had some sense in her, for she said that Lilla and Nia could have tunics from the remnants of the three lengths. That ensured their cooperation and diligence on her clothes. I excused myself as soon as the work was well started, on the pretext that I must discharge my duties as pharmacist.

  And so, in the Harper Hall, I learned for the first time of the blood serum injections that had been administered just the day before, and I heard, in a somewhat garbled fashion, of Master Capiam's recollection of this ancient method of giving a small dose of a disease to prevent a more disastrous illness. Healers had been given the first injections, as they would most need protection against the plague. Master Fortine had succumbed to it, received the treatment, and was suffering only minor discomfort. Soon, very soon, there would be enough of this liquid miracle to prevent any more healthy people from suffering the rigors of the plague. Pern was saved!

  I took leave to doubt that enthusiastic report, but certainly the whole atmosphere of the Hall was charged with hope and relief. I immediately returned to the Hold, reprieved from the despair of more deaths among my loved ones. I rushed up to the sewing room to tell my sisters the good news. Anella was there, of course, supervising their stitches. She questioned me closely, making me repeat my news several times before she rushed off. Maybe she actually cared more for my father's health than for his Hold.

  How it came to be, I do not know, but by evening, three healers arrived at the Hold and were shown immediately up to my father's quarters. I assume they inoculated him first. I'm certain that Anella was second, and then her babes. To my complete surprise, the immediate family was also injected, my younger sisters enduring the prick of the needlethorn without a whimper.

  "There's enough left for fifteen more. Lady Nerilka. Whom would you suggest?" the healer journeyman asked me. "Desdra said you'd know." He had spoken quietly to me as I received the injection.

  I told him to do all the Nursery adults, our three harpers, Felim and his chief assistant, Uncle Munchaun, and Sira, for she alone knew all the brocade patterns that were our especial Hold pride. And the chief bailiff, Bamdy, and his son. With my father still immured in his rooms, Bamdy was a key person and his son only slightly less so. Munchaun would take their part if that became necessary, and he was the only one who could shout Tolocamp down without reprisal.

  3.17.43

  I was required to spend most of the morning sewing in Anella's presence while she stood over my sisters and me, criticizing our stitches, making us pick out and do over, as often as not missing our poorer work, until I could stand it no more. Lilla, Nia, and Mara were more inclined to diligence, since they could anticipate, I hoped, to have new tunics for their labors.

  Anella also had the poor taste to recount to us Tolocamp's injunctions to his bailiff and my brothers that there was to be no disposition of Fort Hold's stores to the indigent. All must be reserved for the needs of Fort Hold's dependents. This was a critical time, and Fort must stand firm, as an example to the rest of the continent. For instance, Anella relished reporting, Tolocamp was certain that the Healer and Harper would be applying to the Hold for substantial aid of food and medicine. He had received a formal request for an interview with Master Capiam and Master Tirone the next morning.

  That, for me, was the final straw. I had now come to the end of patience, courtesy, and filial loyalty. I could no longer endure that woman's presence or remain a dependent of a man whose cowardice and parsimony made a disgrace of my Bloodline. I would no longer remain in a dishonored Hold.

  On the grounds that I had a confectionary recipe that I wished to prepare for the evening meal, I excused myself. I went down to the kitchens, and on to the dispensary. There I distilled fellis in the largest kettle and brewed an equally large batch of the tussilago syrup. While these were simmering, I rifled the overstuffed shelves, taking a generous portion of every herb, root, stalk, leaf, blossom, and tuber that might possibly be of use to the Healer Hall. These I packaged, tying them securely and leaving them in a shadowy corner of the inner storeroom against the unlikely chance that Anella might inspect the facility. I decanted the fellis and tussilago into padded demijohns and added to these surreptitious stores a pack containing clothing necessities for myself. Then I made the sticky sweet for the evening meal, enough to surfeit Anella and her parents.

  That evening I sought out Uncle Munchaun and gave him my mother's jewels to distribute to my sisters.

  "Like that, eh?" He hefted the hide wrapped packet of jewelry. "Did you not keep some by you?"

  "A few pieces. I doubt jewelry will be required where I intend to go from here."

  "Send me word when you can. Rill. I shall miss you."

  "And I you, Uncle. You'll keep watch over my sisters?"

  "Have I not always done so?"

  "Better than most." I could not say more or weaken my resolution, so I fled down the steps from the second story.

  3.18.43

  The next day, I had dutifully started yet another kettle of restorative soup in the small kitchen when I saw the Masterharper and the Masterhealer making their way across the Great Court for their interview with Tolocamp. I caught Sim's attention and told him to take two others and wait for me outside the dispensary. I had a task to be done.

  I changed from my dress into garb suitable for what I hoped to be allowed to do, and stuffed a few last personal things in my belt pouch. I caught a glimpse of myself in the little mirror on my wall. It took me a moment. My hair had been my one vanity. I picked up the scissors and ruthlessly, before my resolution faltered, I cut off my long braids and stuffed them into the darkest corner of the press. No one would think to search my room for some time to come. My shorn hair suited my new role in life.

  With a leather thong, I tied back what was left of my thick black hair. Then I left the room that had been my refuge since my eighteenth summer and made my way down the spiral stairs to my father's first story apartment.

  There was a convenient alcove on the inner wall just beyond the main door to his quarters. I had no sooner taken up my position when the drums announced the happy tidings that Orlith had laid a fine clutch of twenty five eggs, including a queen egg. I'll bet there was considerable jubilation at Fort Weyr on that score. And it was certainly heartening news, though suddenly I could hear my father's mournful tones. Was he displeased with twenty five and a queen? In ordinary times he would have called for wine to celebrate.

  There was no one in the Hall, and at this hour in the morning most would be about their duties in or outside the Hold. I stepped close to the door and. by putting my ear to the wood, was able to hear most of what was said. Both Capiam and Tirone had good strong voices, and as they became more annoyed, their voices rose. It was my father who mumbled.

  "Twenty five with a queen egg is a superb clutch this late in a Pass," Capiam was saying.

  "Moreta ... mumble ... Kadith ... Sh'gall ... so ill."

  "That is not our business," I heard Master Tirone remark. "Not that the illness of the rider has any effect on the performance of the dragon. Anyway, Sh'gall is flying Fall at Nerat, so he's evidently fully recovered."

  I had known that both Fort Weyrleaders had been ill and had recovered, for Jallora had been hastily dispatched from the Healer Hall when the Weyr healer had died. Why Sh'gall was flying at Nerat was beyond my source of information.

  "I wish they would inform us of the status of each Weyr," my father said. "I worry so."

  "The Weyrs", Tirone spoke with emphasis, "have been discharging their traditional duties to their Holds!"

  "Did I bring the
illness to the Weyrs?" my father demanded, more loudly and quite petulantly, I thought. "Or the Holds? If the dragonriders were not too quick to fly here and there, "

  "And Lords Holder not so eager to fill every nook and cranny of their, " Capiam was angry, too.

  "This is not the time for recriminations!" Tirone interrupted them quickly. "You know as well as, if not better than, most people, Tolocamp, that seamen introduced that abomination onto the continent!" The Masterharper's voice dripped with disapproval. I hoped my father was fully aware of it. "Let us resume the discussion interrupted by such good news. I have men seriously ill in that camp of yours. There is not enough vaccine to mitigate the disease, but they could at least have the benefit of decent quarters and practical nursing."

  So I had been correct in my assumption that my father's parsimonious attitude extended to the two Halls that Fort had traditionally supplied generously whenever approached.

  "Healers are among them," my father countered in a sullen tone. "Or so you tell me!"

  "Healers are not immune to the viral influence and they cannot work without medicines," Capiam said urgently. "You have a great storehouse of medicinal supplies."

  "Garnered and prepared by my lost Lady." How dare he speak in that maudlin fashion of my mother!

  "Lord Tolocamp," and I could hear the irritation in Master Capiam's voice, "we need those supplies."

  "For Ruatha, eh?"

  Surely my father didn't blame Ruatha for the tragedy?

  "Other holds besides Ruatha have needs!" Capiam replied, as if Ruatha was indeed the very last one on his list.

  "Supplies are the responsibility of the individual holder. Not mine. I cannot further deplete resources that might be needed by my own people."

  "If the Weyrs," and Tirone's deep voice rang with feeling as he took up the argument, "stricken as they are, can extend their responsibilities in the magnificent way they have, beyond the areas beholden to them, then how can you refuse?"

  I was stunned at my father's insensitive reply. "Very easily. By saying no. No one may pass the perimeter into the Hold from any outlying area. If they don't have the plague, they have other, equally infectious, diseases. I shall not risk more of my people. I shall make no further contributions from my stores."