I did not even know that I had fallen asleep.
It seemed to me that I had only just closed my eyes when I opened them to find Atreh looking down at me. Maybe it was the starlight that made his expression strange.
"Time to be moving, little maid. Is he still with us?"
Beneath the blankets, his body felt warmer than it had. His pulse was strong, and his breathing seemed quieter, though it was still too rapid for normal, easy sleep.
"Yes."
The rest had made all my muscles stiffen. It was all I could do not to yelp with discomfort as I got myself off the drag and tucked the covers closely around the man still on it, who slept on, oblivious. The familiar chill of the night had closed over the world, and it bit at my skin as I missed the comforting warmth of the blankets and a body to snuggle up to.
Both of the riding horses were now ready, their covers once more neatly folded into a pad under the girth.
"You should eat and drink," Atreh advised, handing me the water-skin, which still had a couple of mouthfuls jostling at the bottom of it; the other he was doubtless hoarding for later need. "We still have far to go."
The stars were still brilliant in an inky sky. There was not so much as a smear of light yet on the eastern horizon, yet we who live under the stars learn the smell of the dawn coming. It was perhaps an hour away, but we could cover much ground before then.
With a comradely push he got me onto Arach's back and handed me one or two strips of dried meat. I had never liked this much, but sense told me that I needed nourishment if I was not to slow us all down still further, and reluctantly I began nibbling at it.
With a grunt he could not quite suppress, he got himself onto his own horse, plainly feeling the beast well enough rested by now to carry him for a time and allow him to conserve his strength. Then he unfastened the lead rope from the dragger's bridle, which had been fastened to his mount's girth, and the three of us set off again.
"How much further?" I asked, after we had ridden for a while in silence. I tried not to sound plaintive, but could not quite succeed.
He glanced at me. "We should reach the village before midday, if we do not delay." He looked back at our sleeping prisoner-guest – I thought, with some concern. "How is he? Should he not be waking by now?"
"He seems well enough, though I think he still has some fever. Maybe from the head injury." Although fever was a rare occurrence in such cases, it could follow, and it was an ominous sign. I could only hope desperately that its presence was merely a coincidence. "As for waking … he will wake when his body is ready." If it ever is, a gloomy voice in my mind whispered. I remembered with the clarity of despair how those three supposedly healthy people in the spring had burned up with the marsh fever that none of my remedies had been able to cure, and slid into unconsciousness and death.
All the Healers' lore of the People say that the marsh fever is without mercy. When it comes, it is rare for it to leave again without taking a few souls with it. Nevertheless, I had not lost any patient before then, and the sense of failure rode me hard enough without the knowledge that there were those who thought I had not tried hard enough to avert it…
"It was their time to go." Atreh's voice out of the semi-darkness made me jump.
I was so startled by how closely he had followed my thought that I replied more frankly than I would normally have done. "Not all of the tribe think so."
"Those who have eyes to see could think no differently. Those who think differently do not have eyes, and therefore you should take no heed of their opinion."
"Roish seems to see clearly enough." I spoke a little bitterly, before I could stop myself.
"It is not an easy thing to lose a son. Her pain demands she blame someone for his death, and therefore she blames you. All know this. All but a few believe she is wrong."
There was another name on my tongue, but I had caught myself by now. I had no wish to disrupt – and quite possibly end – this strange openness between us, and I was quite certain that mentioning Makia would make him close up like a kiaq flower when a mischievous child drips water into it.
Still, I was glad that he had spoken, however unexpectedly. It eased the burden a little, even if it could never be fully lifted.
"Likewise, if this man dies, you should not blame yourself," he went on. "I know you will do all you can to save him. You have the soul of a Healer, Jessa, as well as the hands."
"So that he can face questioning when he wakes."
"That also." His voice was neutral. "But that will not be your first reason, nor your whole reason."
And having delivered himself of that enigmatic statement, he pressed his heels into his horse's sides and upped the pace just a little, so that I was too busy keeping an eye on the progress of the drag to press him to know what he meant by it.
=/\=
They were watching for us, back at the village.
Almost as soon as the first points of the tents appeared over the horizon, those of the tribe who had good enough horses came galloping to join us, anxious for news.
They were not surprised to see the third horse with a drag attached to its girth, but the passenger the drag carried was an astonishment to all. I had to drop from Arach's back and walk beside it, pushing aside horses that came dangerously close to jostling it as their riders peered and craned for a better sight.
"Have a care, lest someone trample him to death!" Atreh had been keeping an eye on events, and presently spoke sharply. The tribesmen who had largely ignored my efforts reined aside at once, and rode behind us the rest of the way. I was aware of the mutter of voices, and of the nature of those mutters. In my heart I could not blame them overmuch, for there were women and children in the camp to be thought of, but it seemed to me a sad thing that they could not see a stranger (even as injured and helpless as this one was) without perceiving him as a deadly threat before he had so much as uttered a word of his purpose.
As we drew nearer to the camp those on foot came out. The children are always the first to dash up and ask questions, but on this occasion their elders drove them away with sharp words, and when the news had run ahead their mothers were quick to draw them back and hold them there.
"Where will you have him placed?" asked Atreh as we finally rode between the tents.
If it had been one of the People I would have placed him in the acha-we, the Tent of Gathering, for we value companionship above everything and even the sick seem to draw comfort from having loved ones about us (though not, of course, those sick of a contagion, who must naturally be housed apart lest it spread). Now, however, no separate lodging had been prepared, and I blinked around a little helplessly.
"He will have to share my tent."
"No." The word came flatly. "It is not fitting and it is not safe."
"Does he seem to you to represent a danger?" The spell of the dark hours still lingered about me somewhat, so that I spoke with less respect than was usual. I waved my hand at the sleeping man, trussed on the drag like a kill.
"Perhaps not now, no." His measured tone said he would not quarrel with me, however much I might invite it. "But when he wakes–"
"If he wakes," I interjected.
"If he wakes, things may be very different. I will not have you endangered because you have too much kindness for your own safety."
I exhaled. It was not respectful to argue with a man, and even though Atreh was hardly beyond his Proving he was accepted as such among the tribe. Still, he was not beyond the voice of reason. "It is not a matter of kindness, but of sense. I must care for him, and he must be kept warm and comfortable. My medicines are in my tent. Where else could he be safely housed? If another tent was set up, still I would have to share it with him until he is recovered. He cannot be left alone. He cannot be brought to the acha-we. If anyone else is willing to take over the care of him, let them step forward."
There was a certain amount of shuffling. I had not looked for a volunteer, and none appeared.
Atreh looked hard at me. "I will have your promise that he will not be unbound while you are alone with him."
"I have no wish to die at his hands." I lifted my right index finger and touched it to my heart to signify the promise, and at that he sighed and led the way to my tent.
There was a press of people by now wishing to get their first sight of the man we had brought home, and questions and comments ran from mouth to mouth. I doubted whether they fully believed that we knew so little, though the information that he had been found in the Sacred Cave drew looks of horrified incredulity.
"Jessa will care for him until he wakes. Then he will be cared for under guard until Briai comes back," Atreh said levelly. "The ordering of things concerning him is in my charge, according to our lord's wish. He will not be allowed to be a threat to any of the People. I have sworn it, and let any who doubts me say so."
There were a few looks – he was young as yet for such a responsibility – but no-one spoke.
A few of the bravest (or most inquisitive) lent a hand to unfasten the drag from the horse's girth and carry it into the tent. The only place that would accommodate it was just to the right of the entrance flap, and though that meant the poles would lie across the entrance and be something I would have to remember to step over in my comings and goings, I knew that Atreh would not allow me to have the support removed from it. The framework provided anchorage for the imprisoning thongs, and if they were not thought adequate, better would very quickly be improvised.
When all was in place, he squatted down and checked carefully that there would be no chance of the prisoner getting free easily if he should regain consciousness. He appeared satisfied, because he nodded and rose to his feet, glancing at me. "Jessa, you should eat and rest. I will appoint guards to keep watch while you sleep, and if he wakes, you will be called at once. Will that suffice?"
He did not have to ask; the small courtesy touched me. "It will be well," I replied formally. In truth, I was conscious of hunger and tiredness, and would be glad to eat. I doubted whether he would have the same privilege – I could imagine that a stormy gathering would very shortly follow, with all the camp demanding explanations and answers he simply did not have – but for the present, there was no more that any of us could do.
I looked down at my unexpected guest, whom I had begun to think of in my mind as 'Grey-Eyes'. He was still unconscious, and his colour was too high; the fever had risen again. "But first I will give him some medicine, if I can," I added quickly.
He nodded, as one who had expected no other. "One last thing: remove his shoes and hide them. It will be one more guard against him making an escape." Then, with a comet-tail of tribespeople, he left the tent. A moment or two later two of the elders came back and sat in the tent opening, very much on guard as they watched all that went on with suspicious eyes.
I ignored them as I pulled out my bag of medicines.
I had work to do.
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