“This is scarcely likely to be her doing,” Cinnan interrupted with an impatient gesture, stopping in the middle of the room as Tammad came up to him. “The woman has taken seriously ill, and I had intended fetching a healer. You will, of course, sit with her till his arrival.”
“Ill?” Tammad echoed, jerking his head around in my direction. “It was her assistance that I came for, as word has been brought me that Lenham has collapsed to unconsciousness after being taken by great pain. In what manner is she ill?”
“I know not,” Cinnan answered, following as Tammad quickly made his way over to me. “She was excellent in use, far better than I had expected, this despite her great initial reluctance. She glowed beneath me, filled with pulsating life—and then the life drained from her, and all pleasure as well. She became as you see her now, and I knew not what to do.”
“Terril, speak to me,” the barbarian urged, sitting down in front of me where I lay curled in the fur, sweating and in pain. “Tell me what has touched you and Lenham so cruelly, so that I might see to it. Have you been taken by the same thing? What is it?”
His hand wiping the sweat from my forehead trembled slightly, almost in time to the storm sounds beyond the window. I tried looking up at him, but couldn’t seem to focus my gaze; even holding my eyes open was painful. I licked dry lips from an even drier tongue, finding it difficult to answer even after making the decision to try.
“The—storm,” I whispered, too deeply wrapped in stabbing nails to even wonder if he could hear me. “The storm—such pain. Can’t hide from it. Can’t stop it.”
“What does she say?” Cinnan demanded, leaning closer. “Why must she continually speak in that barbaric tongue?”
“I much doubt that she realizes which tongue she speaks in,” the barbarian muttered, his hand searching for one of mine through the fur so that he might squeeze it gently. “She has told me that the storm brings her pain, and that she is unable to halt it. It is undoubtedly through her power that she is tormented so, yet I spoke of easing her. How am I to keep my word, Cinnan? How?”
“Tammad, brother, do not torment yourself,” Cinnan answered gently, putting a hand on the barbarian’s shoulder. “A man may do no more than his utmost, especially against those things he has no understanding of. It is possible I may be of assistance to you, yet I must first speak with Aesnil. I will return as soon as may be.”
He walked out of my line of vision for a minute, and when he reappeared going toward the door he wore his haddin and swordbelt again. The barbarian lay down beside me and took me in his arms, but even his presence didn’t do anything to help. The pain just went on and on, doubling me over and making me sick to my soul.
It’s impossible to know how long Cinnan was gone. The passage of time is always subjective, even with timepieces around. It had finally occurred to me to wonder why I was still conscious when the door to the room opened, admitting Cinnan and a number of other men. They all strode quickly to the bed furs, and Cinnan clapped Tammad briskly on the shoulder.
“Bring the woman and come with me, brother,” he said, his voice sounding eager. “I may have found the answer to her difficulty. ”
“How?” Tammad demanded, only glancing at Cinnan before lifting me and the fur off the bed furs. Being moved that abruptly hurt, but I hadn’t the strength even to moan.
“The inner fortress,” Cinnan answered, moving fast to keep ahead of Tammad. “I spoke with Aesnil, and discovered that there are chambers deep within which have no direct contact with the outer world. Should it be possible to shield the wenda from the storms, the place is there.”
“Cinnan, brother, you have more than my thanks,” the barbarian answered, his voice soft and even despite his hurry. “Should this take the pain from my woman, my debt to you will be unrepayable.”
“Do not speak foolishness, Tammad,” Cinnan laughed, shaking his head. “What else might one do than assist a brother? And I have already been repaid, with a sight I scarcely expected to see. When I spoke with Aesnil, the wenda appeared concerned over this one! She immediately offered the use of the fortress, and her own services as well! Perhaps she will become the woman of my heart sooner than I had expected.”
The barbarian grunted and said something else to Cinnan, but I couldn’t follow the conversation any further. We were outside the apartment and hurrying through the corridors, practically in the middle of the storm despite the coated cloth hanging across every normally open area. The crash and crackle of the thunder and lightning were the only things left in the world, black pain and yellow pain and every color in between. I strained and fought against it, and kept wishing that I could just give in.
And then the storm feeling was further away, no more than a matter of inches but far enough to let me breathe a little more easily. I forced my eyes open to see us entering a narrow, torch-lit area at the end of a short, narrow, delicate bridge piece, beyond which was a larger room, also torch-lit. Entering that place was impossible other than in single file, which gave the men carrying Len on a litter a good deal of trouble. Cinnan was already in the larger room, as were Aesnil and a number of female slaves, and as soon as I was carried in Aesnil gestured and began leading the way toward a heavy, closed door. The deeper we went into that place, the more the pain receded, the more it dropped to a tolerable level. I found less and less of a need to fight and struggle, even though I still hurt quite a bit. I took a deep, shaky breath, ready to try relaxing for the first time in hours, and instead passed out.
5
The room I awoke in was only torch-lit, but even if it had been blazing with bright, cheery light, there wouldn’t have been much of an improvement. All four of the walls were cold, undecorated stone, the floor uncarpeted stone, the ceiling dimly seen stone. Aside from the narrow pile of furs I lay on, one small table and a couple of torch sconces, the room was entirely bare. I shivered as I looked around at it, wondering if it was a cell rather than a room, wondering if the heavy wooden door was locked. I couldn’t remember how I had gotten there, or why someone would lock my in a cell. I moved around under the fur covering me, realizing I was naked, growing more and more upset—until the door opened, admitting a female slave carrying a tray. The naked slave hurried to put the tray down on the small table, fell to her knees and put her forehead to the floor, then scrambled up and backed out of the room. I didn’t know Aesnil stood by the door waiting for the slave to leave until I saw her, the bright red of her gown an incongruous sight in the drab of that room. She closed the door firmly behind the hurrying slave, moved gracefully to the tray that had been left, chose one of the bowls, then brought it over to me.
“I am pleased to see that you have recovered,” she said, handing me the bowl with a warm smile. “You must now eat to regain your strength, and then you will be completely whole again. ”
I took the bowl automatically, still trying to remember what had happened, and then I realized that my shield was closed. Not knowing any better I opened it—then slammed it closed again against the shock of more than atmospheric static.
“How long have I been here?” I gasped, putting one shaky hand to my head as memory came flooding back. “How long a time do those storms continue?”
“The new day has begun,” she answered, looking at me narrowly in the dim torchlight. “How are you able to know that the storms continue? Ah, but of course. You are able to feel them. I believe I no longer envy you your powers. ”