Part 27 (1/2)
”What's happened to you?” the tall man repeated once again, helping to hold the highlander in place so he would not fall. ”This one's burning up with fever!”
Brin swallowed thickly. ”We lost our horses in a fall coming down out of the mountains,”
she lied. ”He was sick before then, but it's grown worse. We walked the riverbank until we found this place.
”My place,” the tall man informed her. ”I'm a trader here. Jeft, draw a couple ales for these two.”
The woodsman slipped behind the counter to an ale keg and opened the spigot into two tall gla.s.ses.
”How about a free one for the rest of us, Stebb?” one of a group of hard-looking men at the fat end of the counter called out.
The trader shot the man a venomous look, brushed back a patch of thinning hair atop a mostly balding pate, and turned again to Brin. ”Shouldn't be in those mountains, girl. There's worse than fever up there.”Brin nodded wordlessly; swallowing against the dryness in her throat. A moment later the woodsman returned with the gla.s.ses of ale. He pa.s.sed one to the Valegirl, then propped Rone up long enough to see that he sipped at the other. The highlander tried to grasp the gla.s.s and gulp the harsh liquid down, choking as he did. The woodsman moved the gla.s.s away firmly.
”Let him drink!” the speaker at the end of the bar called out again.
Another laughed. ”Naw, it's wasted! Any fool can see he's dying!”
Brin glanced up angrily. The man who had spoken saw her look and sauntered toward her, his broad face breaking into an insolent grin. The others in the group trailed after, winking knowingly and chuckling.
”Something the matter, girl?” the speaker sneered. ”Afraid you...?”
Instantly Brin was on her feet, barely aware of what she was doing as she s.n.a.t.c.hed her long knife from its sheath and brought it up in front of his face.
”Now, now,” the woodsman Jeft interceded quickly at her side, pus.h.i.+ng her gently back.
”No need for that, is there?”
He turned to face the speaker, standing directly before him. The woodsman was a big man, and he towered over the men who had come down from the end of the counter. The members of the group glanced at one another uncertainly.
”Sure, Jeft, no harm meant,” the offender muttered. He looked down at Rone. ”Just wondered about that scabbard. Crest looks like a royal seal of some type.” His dark eyes s.h.i.+fted to Brin. ”Where you from, girl?”
He waited a moment, but Brin refused to answer. ”No matter.” He shrugged. With his friends trailing after him he moved back down the counter. Gathering close to resume their drinking, they began conversing in low tones, their backs turned. The woodsman stared after them for a moment, then knelt down beside Brin.
”Worthless bunch,” he muttered. ”Camp out west of Spanning Ridge masquerading as trappers. Live by their wits and the misfortune of others.”
”Been drinking and wasting time here since morning.” The trader shook his head.
”Always got the money for the ale, though.” He looked at the Valegirl. ”Feeling a little better now?”
Brin smiled in response. ”Much better, thank you.” She glanced down at the dagger in her hand. ”I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what I was...”
”Hush, forget it.” The big woodsman patted her hand. ”You're exhausted.”
Beside him, Rone Leah moaned softly, his head lifting momentarily, his eyes open and staring into s.p.a.ce. Then he slipped down again.
”I have to do something for him,” Brin insisted anxiously. ”I have to find a way to break the fever. Do you have anything here that might help?”
The trader glanced at the woodsman worriedly, then shook his head. ”I've not seen a fever as bad as this one often, girl. I have a tonic that might help. You can give it to the boy and see if it brings the fever out.” He shook his head again. ”Sleep might be best, though.”
Brin nodded dumbly. She was having trouble thinking clearly, the exhaustion folding in about her as she sat staring down at the dagger. Slowly she slipped it back into its sheath. What had she been thinking she would do? She had never harmed anything in her entire life. Certainly the man from west of Spanning Ridge had been insolent, perhaps even threatening-but had there been any real danger to her? The ale burned warmly in her stomach, and a flush spread through her body. She was tired and strangely unnerved. Deep within, she felt an odd sense of loss and ofslipping.
”Not much room in here for sleeping,” the trader Stebb was saying. ”There's a tack room in back of the stable I let the help use in the trapping season. You can have that. There's a stove and bed for your friend and straw for you.”
”That would be fine,” Brin murmured and found to her astonishment that she was crying.
”Here, here.” The burly woodsman put an arm about her shoulders, blocking her away from the view of those gathered along the serving counter. ”Won't do for them to see that, girl.
Got to be strong, now.”
Brin nodded wordlessly, wiped the tears away, and stood up. ”I'm all right.”
”Blankets are out in the shed,” the trader announced, standing up with her. ”Let's get you settled in.”
With the aid of the woodsman, he brought Rone Leah back to his feet and walked him toward the rear of the trading center and down a short, darkened hallway that ran past a set of storage rooms. Brin shot a parting glance at the men gathered about their ale gla.s.ses before the serving counter and followed after. She didn't much care for the looks directed back her way by the ones from west of Spanning Ridge.
A small wooden door opened out into the night at the back of the building, and the trader, the woodsman, Rone, and Brin moved toward the stable and its tack room. The trader slipped ahead, quickly lighted an oil lamp hanging from a peg on one wall, and then held wide the tack room door to admit the others. The room beyond was clean, though a bit musty, its walls hung with traces and harness. A small iron stove sat in one corner, s.h.i.+elded by a stone alcove. A single bed sat close beside it. A pair of shuttered windows stood against the night.
The trader and the woodsman laid the feverish highlander carefully on the bed and covered him with the blankets stacked at one end. Then they fired the iron stove until its wood was burning brightly and carried in a pallet of fresh straw for Brin.
As they were about to leave, the trader placed the oil lamp on a stone ledge next to the stove and turned briefly to Brin.
”Here's the tonic for his fever.” He pa.s.sed a small, amber-colored bottle to the Valegirl.
”Give him two swallows-no more. In the morning, two more.” He shook his head doubtfully.
”Hope it helps, girl.”
He started through the doorway with the woodsman in tow. Then once more he turned.
”There's a latch on this door,” he declared, pausing. ”Keep it drawn.”
He closed the door softly behind him. Brin walked over and drew the latch into place.
From just without, she could hear the voices of the trader and the woodsman as they talked.
”A bad lot, that Spanning Ridge bunch,” the woodsman muttered.
”Bad as any,” the trader agreed.
They were silent for a moment.
”Time for me to be on my way,” the woodsman said. ”Several hours back to the camp.”
”Safe journey,” the trader replied.
They started to move away, their words fading.
”You'd best watch yourself that that bunch inside, Stebb,” the woodsman advised. ”Watch yourself close.”
Then the words died away completely and the two were gone.