Water Under The Bridge, Chapter 7
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Kahlan woke slowly, to the sound of soft singing coming from nearby. She opened her eyes, and saw Marlena knitting in a chair beside the bed. She stopped when she noticed Kahlan looking at her, and smiled kindly. "There now, you look better. I'll wager you feel a bit better, too, don't you, dear?"
Kahlan did. Her head was no longer pounding, though her ribs still hurt. "I do, thank you. You're very kind."
Marlena waved away the compliment. "It's the least I could do for the Mother Confessor." She noticed Kahlan's face blanch as she realized Marlena knew who she was. "It was hard to miss, what with the Confessor's gown and all," she said dryly, gesturing to the foot of the bed, where Kahlan's clothes were draped. "And the soldiers asking for you by name. You are just a bit famous, after all." A noise came from somewhere under the knitting—a familiar noise Kahlan couldn't place at first. Marlena reached into a voluminous pocket, and pulled out a glowing vial.
"A nightwisp!" Kahlan breathed.
"Her name is Fleur. And she gives you her very great regards," Marlena said. "She's the one who led me to you. Came to me all in a dither the other night, said you were in danger and I had to come. I do wish you'd been more specific," Marlena said reprovingly to the glow. "If I'd known it was going to be that difficult to get her into the cart, I'd have brought along help." Kahlan couldn't quite make out the response. "Oh, hush. I'd trust Roderick with my life. He's no loyalist, in spite of that shrew of a wife."
"Excuse me, but…how long have I been here?" Kahlan asked, her sense of time completely lost.
"I found you night before last," she said. "You've been through quite a fever. It was worst last night, but along midnight it finally broke. It's a good thing you're as strong as you are. I've seen people not recover from hurts as bad as yours."
Kahlan vaguely remembered bits and pieces of the time she'd lost. Nightmarish scenes interspersed with images of Marlena's worried face. She had a brief flash of a particularly bad moment, when she'd thought she was back in Giller's keep…
"You had some bad dreams," Marlena said perceptively. "But then I imagine you've had some bad reality." That's putting it mildly, Kahlan thought. "But that's all past," Marlena added briskly, standing up and moving to set Fleur's vial on a small table near the bed. She stopped for a moment, holding the wisp up to her face, listening. "Really? Well, that's wonderful. But we can't expect you to entertain guests on an empty stomach," she said to Kahlan. "Let me get you something to eat. I imagine you're rather hungry." She laid Fleur on the table and bustled out of the room.
Kahlan was hungry, she realized. As tired as she still was, she felt as though she could eat a horse. Then she felt a pang as she realized how long she'd been out. Two days, she thought. Richard must be insane with worry.
It's all right, Fleur said quietly. He's almost here.
"He is!?" Kahlan said joyfully. She started to sit up, then stopped, wincing, as her ribs reminded her they weren't close to being healed yet. She lay back carefully, breathing shallowly. Between breaths, she asked, "Where is he? Is he all right?"
He's just fine. He'll be better when he's with you again.
So will I, Kahlan thought.
***
Richard crept forward. He'd had a bad moment crossing the street when he thought he'd been seen, but there had been no alarm. Now he was at Marlena's back door, about to enter the same way he'd done Britta's.
The door opened, spilling light into the dark space behind the house. "Well, don't just stand there, young man! Come in! We've been waiting for you."
Richard blinked in surprise for an instant, then scrambled past the woman into the house. "Waiting for me?" he said, turning to face the woman. "Are you Marlena?"
"Yes, I am," she said, surprised. "Who told you my name? I thought—"
"Your neighbor, Britta—" he started to say, then stopped as Marlena's face went white.
"We don't have much time," she said, recovering. "Quick! In here," and led him toward the front of the house.
They entered a small room, and Richard pushed past Marlena to Kahlan's side, holding her face in his hands. "Are you all right? How bad—?" She looked strained, but her color was good, and she was smiling at him.
"Oh, Richard," Kahlan breathed, her hand holding his to her cheek, "thank the spirits. I'm fine, thanks to Marlena," she nodded toward the woman smiling indulgently at them from the door.
"I'll leave you two alone for a moment. I have something to take care of," she said, and there was something in her tone that made Kahlan frown. She made her way over to the bed and scooped up Fleur, who'd been remarkably silent, even for a wisp. "Seeker, if you hear soldiers, whatever you do, do NOT leave this room. Do you understand?"
Richard stood up and frowned at her, confused. "But—"
"No buts!" she said emphatically. "I know what I'm doing. Everything depends on you keeping your head! Everyone in this village. Do I make myself clear? And stay away from the window!"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, surprised, and she swept out of the room.
Richard turned back to Kahlan, noticing as he did the tattered remnants of Kahlan's clothing draped across the foot of the bed. That means— He blushed, glancing back at Kahlan, her bare shoulders just visible above the covers.
She looked at him, suddenly aware of exactly what he was thinking, and blushed as well. Then his face changed and he moved forward quickly, grabbed her and lifted her up, pulling her close, the coverlet barely maintaining her modesty.
"Don't ever do that to me again," he whispered into her hair. "I thought I'd die when I saw you go into the water."
And she realized with a pang that he was crying. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I…I knew you wouldn't go if I were still on that side, and there was no way to get to you, so I did what I thought I had to to save you. Believe me," she said, wrapping her arms around him, despite her protesting ribs, "knowing what happened, I'm not sure I could do it again."
He squeezed harder, and she hissed in pain. He pulled back, looking intensely at her. "What is it? You are hurt, aren't you?"
She smiled ruefully at him. "Just a few broken ribs. Nothing I can't handle," she added at his look of dismay.
He snorted, shaking his head. "What am I going to do with you?"
A dozen potential options flitted through Kahlan's head at that moment, none of them things they could act on. But apparently they showed in her face, because Richard let go of her as if he'd been burned, stepped back, and sat down hard in the chair he suddenly found behind him.
Kahlan stifled a laugh, particularly at the expression on his face, then realized that she was sitting up on her own, and was suddenly relieved. At least if we have to start running, I might be able to manage it, at least for a bit. She felt the coverlet slip slightly and grabbed to hold it close.
Suddenly, they heard shouting outside. "Fine! I'll report them, and then, Roderick, I'll report YOU!" A door slammed.
Richard's eyes went wide. "Damn! I knew I'd talked to the wrong person," he said, looking around, trying to decide the best course of action. Clearly, the first step was getting Kahlan dressed. He went to the foot of the bed and gathered up her things. "Quick, get these on," he said, bringing them up to her, and then standing there for a moment.
She looked at him steadily, and he blinked. "Oh, right," he said, and turned around. Kahlan struggled painfully to her feet, wincing with every breath and trying to keep her balance in spite of a wave of dizziness. She eased carefully into her clothes, cursing under her breath as she tried to lace up her corset. She finally decided to leave it loose and hope it held up—clearly her ribs weren't going to allow more than that. The white gown was definitely the worse for wear, but it would have to do. She laced it up loosely as well, then sank heavily down onto the bed, her energy spent.
Richard glanced back surreptitiously, then turned around when he realized she was clothed. He saw her boots at the foot of the bed, and grabbed them as well. "Here," he said, and helped her into the boots. It was obvious she was fading fast—the flurry of effort had left her shaking and pale, despite her protests that she was fine. He was going to have to find transportation for them somehow. But how on earth were they going to get across the bridge?