Ghost's Dilemma (15 page)

"What else did you See?" Ghost asked, hearing the strain in his own voice. Bruadar's vision brought him back to reality. The third test had to be the epidemic. While Ghost was indulging his curiosity in this dark and timeless room, the afflicted in his village were dying. He needed to find the Witch and her solution. He stood up, the bench scraping on the floor from his haste. "Did you See my village? I don't have my mirror, so if you've Seen my people, I want to know."

Bruadar's laugh was bitter. "You of all people should know better than to ask. Do we ever See what we desire most?"

***

Gerry woke twice in the night to vomit, and his head pounded. He was weak enough the second time to resort to his bucket. His teeth chattered as he fell back onto the bed. He couldn't even find the strength to rinse his mouth with cold water. He pulled up the quilt, shivering and miserable.

As he fell into a fitful sleep, Gerry dreamed Ghost's warm hand stroked his forehead. He could hear Ghost's quiet voice soothing him. He grew warmer, and the terrible shivering eased until he found himself soaked with sweat. He tossed the quilt aside as he tried to cool off.

His stomach seized again, and Gerry rolled off the bed to find the bucket. The floor was rough beneath his knees as he vomited, tasting blood mixed with bile. When the fit had passed, the shivering began again. Gerry could hardly manage to crawl back onto the bed. Exhaustion dragged him under before he could find the quilt. The sheets beneath him were clammy and cold.

***

"What have you found?"

The Witch was not alone. Egill shadowed her, of course, and the Norther healer, Eir, was with her too. Ghost marked his place with a scrap of fabric and closed the book with care.

"No doubt the same as you found," Ghost said. He shrugged one shoulder. "The lore is curious on its own, but there's more I don't know yet."

"We never know everything." The Witch looked amused. "Eir has been good enough to give me some herbs which should prove useful." She gestured at the quiet woman at her side. "Have you made notes as you've been reading?"

Ghost gestured at his formulary with ink-stained fingers. His careful writing covered almost two pages. "I always make notes, just like you taught me. I haven't forgotten."

An excessive friendliness in the Witch's tone made Ghost cautious. He snuck a glance at Egill from under his lashes, and Egill returned the look with wide eyes.

"Wonderful," the Witch said. "I'll give you my notes on the local herbs to copy later. Come by my room and you can borrow my formulary."

The Witch's offer sounded quite natural. Of course, no witch ever handed over her formulary, but Ghost didn't think Eir would know the truth. He looked up with what he hoped was a bright smile. "Thank you, I'd appreciate seeing your notes as well."

It was true. Ghost did want a chance to talk to the Witch in private. Until he did, he couldn't tell friend from foe, and too much was at stake to risk it. But after leaving Bruadar, he had gotten turned around, and by the time he had found the library, he assumed he had missed her.

The Witch continued in the same artificial tone. "With any luck, we can all be on our way soon. I know you want to get home so you can see your mate again."

She doesn't want to talk about the sickness.
Egill's soft voice confirmed what Ghost suspected. The Witch's caution made him nervous.

"Lady smile on us, and Father see us safely home," Ghost said. He hoped his response seemed bland enough, although his words were true. Ghost wanted to be on his way home, back to Gerry and to his village. He would be happier if he had answers to all his questions, but at this point, he was willing to wait until they were on the carriage to hear what the Witch had learned. Some force, or perhaps some person, had stopped her when she had first contacted Ghost. He wasn't sure he wanted to face anything that stumped the Witch.

The Witch patted Ghost's shoulder. "And the Seeker guide our steps along the way," she replied. "Why don't you and Egill go to my room? You can start copying the formulary while you wait. Egill knows the way. Eir, about those herb samples? I'd love to get cuttings as well. Is this possible?"

Ghost stood and gathered up the books he had been reading. Egill waited by the door until Ghost was ready, and they set off through the corridors. The maze of hallways all looked alike to Ghost, but Egill moved with assurance, and Ghost was reminded Egill had lived in such a place not so long ago.

The Witch occupied a generous chamber filled with plenty of light from the windows along one wall. A scrubbed wooden table held books and sheets of paper covered in her cramped writing, the letters tiny enough to make Ghost squint a bit. Egill crossed to the fire and prodded it, adding wood until the flames were leaping again. He gestured at the kettle, but Ghost shook his head.

Ghost opened the chest at the foot of the bed, rummaging among the Witch's unfamiliar shifts in a rainbow of colors until he found the worn leather pouch she always carried. "There we are."

Egill cleared a place for Ghost at the table, and Ghost looked at the boy. "You don't need to fuss over me. I don't expect it, you know." He opened the pouch and pulled out the Witch's formulary, turning to the back to see her recent notes. He saw quite a few on Norther herbs and even more speculating on what was going on in the village. Ghost's pen scratched as he copied the notes to his own formulary.

When his hand began to cramp, Ghost put his pen down and sat back. Egill was watching him, the boy's expression a mixture of curiosity and amazement. Ghost stood and stretched.

"Have you read her notes?" Ghost asked.

Egill nodded, and his small, pale fingers touched the rich leather of the books Ghost had brought with him.

"You read those too?" Ghost was surprised, but if Egill had lived among the Northers until he was seven or eight, he would have been taught to read. The Northers didn't scorn books or the knowledge contained in the yellowed pages. Only the godsmen abhorred knowledge.

"Egill is quite adept at reading." Ghost spun around, startled to see the Witch enter and close the door behind her. "We were fortunate no one realized he was able to read where he wound up. Please don't tell me you didn't guess."

"So, they were right? The epidemic's not a natural illness?" Ghost felt his stomach twist. "Kerree said the disease seemed artificial, and she mentioned relics. Zereda hushed her, but the books I read described devices like centrifuges which can combine phages and bacteria to cause illness."

"Phages and viruses, yes." The words rolled off the Witch's tongue with ease. "The mistake Sri made was in letting Egill see her notes. She assumed he was an ignorant child, and although she made sure he could never speak about anything he heard, she never stopped to think he might know how to read and write. She and Tarah of the Heartlands contrived this epidemic, to discredit you and indirectly to discredit me, since I was your mentor."

Ghost stared at the Witch. "Tarah. Is her mark a triple moon in blue?"

"Did you see her?" The Witch's voice sharpened, and Egill flinched. Ghost reached out to pull him close.

"Bruadar told me she was here reading these books last summer." Ghost studied Egill, smoothing the boy's hair to calm him. "She was learning how to use the relics they found, but how could they do something like this? So many have died." Ghost was dumbfounded at Sri and Tarah's callousness. "I told Bruadar witches don't kill without reason. I was wrong."

"Tal was the first to figure it out, but she couldn't find proof or the cure. Egill was smart enough to realize Tal was an ally, and he slipped her a note. Egill knew what Sri and Tarah had used to make the vector, and he knew about the cure they had devised. The plan was to wait until more people had died and the disease had progressed to killing those who thought they were immune. They were going to show up and cure the illness which the incompetent male pretender couldn't handle." The Witch chuckled. "Tal got Egill out, but the only place she could think of to hide him was here, in the Northlands, where he'd blend in. I intercepted his carriage and joined him. A fortunate choice because some of the herbs we need are rare and there's one in particular which will only grow here. Egill took what vials of the vaccine and antidote he could find, but we'll need more than what he was able to bring us."

Ghost touched the books. "The vision. 'What is known is lost. What is lost must be found.' These books have the knowledge we've lost.” Ghost paused and looked at Egill. “And you found Egill."

The Witch agreed. "Finish the thought, Ghost." Her eyes shifted to Egill as he settled next to Ghost. "Seeker knows you're not my little one anymore."

Ghost took a deep breath. "The last part. 'What is found is the way home.' We have a cure, don't we? We can help the village and end this nightmare. Time to go home."

Chapter 16

In the morning, Njall escorted Ghost, Egill, and the Witch through the snow-scarred landscape until they reached the end of a valley. A low wall marked the end of the clan's lands. Most of the wall was hidden, and only the stone posts rose far enough out of the frost to flaunt the witchmarks carved into their sides.

"This is as far as I will go." Njall's voice was the usual deep thunder, with a hint of laughter running through his words. He threw back the hood of his white fur cloak. "You are sure you know your way from here? I would hate to have to thaw out a Ghost again. He is most irritable in the morning."

Ghost pushed back the hood of his cloak, which had been returned to him along with his water skin and his pouches. He was happiest to have his cloak, his reminder of how much Gerry loved him. He had been offered a white fur cloak like Egill and the Witch wore, made of the soft fur of the viksin. He refused that gift, but he did accept boots lined with warm fur, and he found himself glad of those.

"Don't even dream about it," Ghost said, and his voice was sharper than he had intended. "I mean, I appreciate the intent and all, but I have a mate. I'm not cranky in the mornings with him, either."

The Witch snorted. "I know the way, Njall, son of Falkor. You have been a generous host."

Ghost shifted the pouch on his shoulder. The Witch was right. Njall and Falkor had insisted they accept gifts, and Ghost's pouch held several more books about herbal lore and the medical technology of the ancients. Egill carried the cloak Ghost had refused, since Njall insisted Ghost could give the cloak to Gerry. The Witch had her cuttings and herbs along with the vials from Egill and whatever else filled her own traveling pouch.

Bruadar had given Ghost a small amulet made from a bjarrn's tooth. Ghost suspected the tooth was the gift of one shaman to another, and he accepted the amulet with the gravity such a gift deserved. Ghost had given Bruadar his notes and observations on being a seer, Ghost knowing he could recreate those from memory. The notes included the ritual to invoke a vision, and instruction on making the smoke bundle to awaken the inner eye. Bruadar had accepted Ghost's notes with equal respect. Unspoken between them was the knowledge that Bruadar would work to create a haven for Norther seers, his penance for the lives he had taken.

But now the time had come to go, and Ghost was eager to return to his village and to Gerry. Farewells had to be said first, though, and he watched the Witch offer Njall her hands, wrapped in mitts lined with more viksin fur. Njall's hands were bare and engulfed hers.

"You are always welcome in our clanhold, Witch," Njall said, and he hugged the Witch, lifting her off her feet for a moment. "I like a woman who is not afraid to slap me."

"You have a remarkable aptitude for provoking me into slapping you," the Witch said in a voice as dry as dust. "You should be glad I haven't taken you up on your offers."

Njall turned to Ghost, and Ghost placed his mitt-covered hands in those large palms.

"You too are always welcome in our clanhold, little Ghost." Ghost gasped as Njall's strong arms closed around him. "If your mate is not good to you, come and let me warm you." Njall purred the offer, his breath tickling Ghost's ear.

Ghost was sure his cheeks were hot enough to melt the snow feathering down from the tall trees and dusting them in white. "I don't think I'll have to worry about Gerry not being good to me, but thank you. I think."

Egill seemed to be trying to hide behind the Witch, but Njall turned to the boy. "While our clan is not yours, you would have a place in our clanhold if you wished to return to us, Egill of the Northlands. I cannot make amends for the wrongs perpetrated against you, but I can offer a better future as my foster son."

Egill shook his head and reached out to touch the Witch with a mitt-covered hand. Egill looked at Ghost, his expression pleading.

"We'll look after him," Ghost said. He watched relief light up Egill's eyes, and he was reminded of the child in his vision with blood pouring from his mouth. The posts of the boundary wall looked like the stones in the snow, and the Witch stood there in her cloak of white fur, her hair silvery against the stark, pale sky. For a moment, Ghost was dizzy, his head spinning as he realized the vision was not done with him, not yet. He hadn't seen Gerry in the vision, and his blood ran cold as he wondered if he had forfeited Gerry's love. Ghost couldn't endure a life without Gerry. Despite the warmth of his cloak, he shook uncontrollably.

***

The carriage was warm, and the first thing the Witch did was to start the charging of the carriage. Egill curled up on one padded bench, still wrapped in the viksin furs, while Ghost checked the compartment where he had found the healers' supplies. The container was empty.

"I've never seen one refilled, once the compartment was emptied. But we don't know how many carriages have survived. Every now and again, one appears which hasn't been ridden by one of us. You were lucky, but I know you'll make good use of what you found." The Witch offered Egill a cup of something hot that smelled delicious, and Egill took the cup with alacrity. She handed another cup to Ghost, who sniffed it.

"Broth," the Witch said. "To take the chill off. By the time we're ready for a meal, this carriage will be able to offer proper food. And before you ask, I don't understand how the carriage does it. All I know is if you recharge the carriage, you can get food. But while we wait, I want to contact Zereda. She can get the word out for us, although you may want to contact Natali yourself."

Ghost concurred. "I do want to talk to Natali. I'm going to give her one of the Seeker's kisses I found and some cylinders. I can show her how to refill the cylinders once the healers' supplies are used up. I want to thank Natali for all her hard work, along with giving her my promise to return the service if she needs me."

The Witch smiled. "Very good, Ghost. You've nothing to worry about, you know. You're doing very well. Most witches would not have dared to leave to find me, but this epidemic would not have been cured otherwise, and Sri would have won. Egill is part of the answer, but Falkor was not about to let me take him and go. He thought I was a slaver, or looking to steal the cursed children for some terrible rite, I think. The gods only know what nonsense Bruadar was filling his head with, really. But Egill is the key, in more ways than one." The Witch arched a brow. "Did you think I was cloaking myself to be difficult? Sri was looking for Egill, and no one had taught him how to hide yet. I cloaked us both. You never sensed Egill when I contacted you, but Sri was looking for me as well, it seems. That's why I cut you off so abruptly."

"What will happen to Sri?" Ghost couldn't shake his growing unease.

The Witch's expression hardened. "We have sufficient proof to make an example of her, one which will ensure no other witch makes a similar mistake. She broke every vow she took, and it can't go unpunished."

Ghost had watched many of his people perish at Sri's hands, and her actions were unforgiveable. A witch vowed to help and to heal, and what Sri and her cabal had done was the opposite. Still, the Witch's tone promised Sri would end up begging for death, and Ghost was not hard-hearted. Beccah had done her best to help. He didn't wish Sri's fate on Beccah.

"It's witch's business," Ghost said aloud, knowing he had no say in what the elder witches would decide. "What will we say to my village?"

"Once again, very good. You're learning, little one. We tell the village you reached out to the witchsisters and found a cure. Then you cure your people, Ghost, and they'll be proud of how their witch saved them." The Witch shrugged. "It's the truth, if only a part. They don't need to know about Sri and the devices she found and used in the West Reaches. The Wester land already has a bad reputation thanks to the slavers."

"Beccah offered her help. I don't think she ever knew what was planned. I think we leave Beccah out of this. But the other one, Tarah, was in on the scheme from the start. She should share Sri's fate." Ghost looked over at Egill, who had finished his broth and was dozing on the bench, warm in his furs. "And him? What happens to him?"

"He has a choice to make. He's welcome to travel with me, although I can't promise I'll stay in one place too long. I'll teach him what I know, and Zereda can help with the rest." The Witch pinned Ghost with her dark eyes, and Ghost grew still. "Or you can find him a place in your village and make sure he's cared for."

Ghost shook his head. "The only place he can go in the village is with Gerry and me. He's a seer, first of all, and he's got no voice. I'm going to guess we don't know how to fix this?"

"Sri was very thorough, I'm afraid. He might never speak again, but he's smart and learns fast. We'd never have had the antidote or the vaccine without him. I want to be sure he'll be taken care of properly." The Witch glanced at Egill, and Ghost recognized the look she used to give to him, when Ghost had been as young. A lifetime had passed since Ghost had felt childlike and innocent. Gerry had been right. Taking life changed something deep inside. Ghost wondered if Egill represented a chance to make amends for using the Seeker's rest. Ghost could nurture a life instead.

"I can't speak for Gerry, but I wouldn't mind having Egill as a part of our family." Ghost looked at Egill, white-haired and blue-eyed like he was. For the first time in his life, Ghost felt less different, less a freak. Gerry loved how Ghost was unique among the villagers, but having been in the Northlands now, Ghost wanted to see at least one other person who looked like him. And Egill was a seer as well, with the potential to be a witch. So rare, to have both gifts, and in another male. Ghost would never feel like an outcast with Egill there.

The Witch's smile conveyed her understanding and agreement. Ghost dug in his leather pouch for his scrying mirror. "How long will it be before we're home, do you think? I want to reach out to Natali. I can ask her to tell Gerry when to expect me." He settled himself on the other bench, opposite Egill, wondering if Egill would sense his scrying and maybe even join in.

"The carriage is taking a different route home. It's what I think they called a
fast track
or perhaps it was
express
. I can't recall. But either way, we should be at the terminal by high sun tomorrow, and at the village not much past dusk, I'd think." The Witch looked at the pad and frowned at the map before nodding briskly. "By dark for certain."

"Only one night on the carriage? Much better," Ghost said, and he felt a tingle of anticipation as he thought about being in his own bed with Gerry the next night. He unwrapped his mirror and focused his mind on Natali's purple starburst. Ghost could feel his own spiral warming as he let himself fall into the meditative state he needed to achieve, relaxing as he waited.

***

Gerry opened his eyes, the pain behind them throbbing as if Moran were pounding on thick planks with a heavy mallet. Dawn was close, the indigo of the sky beginning to grow pale as the sun approached. He groaned as he tried not to move at all. He was freezing again despite the quilt covering him.

Gerry's mouth tasted of blood from the purging. He thought about getting up to get a cup of water, but his stomach twisted in response. He was not sure he would make it to the kitchen, not the way the room was spinning at the moment. He closed his eyes again and tried to will his stomach to subside.

When Gerry opened his eyes again, the sun was close to high. Sweat trickled over his skin, his tongue thick in his mouth. The head ache was still there, taking second place to the way his stomach churned. He could feel the burn of bile at the back of his throat, and his tongue darted out in a vain attempt to moisten his cracked lips.

Gerry managed to sit up and push himself out of the bed. He swayed as he stood. He was light-headed, and his vision was blurry, but he took a few stumbling steps forward. Momentum carried him past the door and into the main room. One hand against the wall to steady his progress, Gerry navigated his way to the front door.

Sunlight assaulted Gerry, and he felt the head ache blast him with full force as he squinted against the brilliant light. The bucket from the well took forever to fill, and Gerry was trembling with exhaustion by the time he was done. He could smell the cool water, though, and his tongue seemed to swell even more. He carried the bucket into the house so he could dip up a cupful of the liquid. Gerry drank cup after cup, greedy for the moisture, until his stomach rebelled. He stumbled out into the yard again, heading for the wash house, but he only got halfway before he fell to his knees. His stomach lurched, and blood poured from his mouth and nose onto the ground beneath him, splashing across the pavers.

Gerry stood on shaky legs and made his way back to the house. He knew all too well what the blood meant. He crawled into the bed and pulled the quilt over him. His skin hurt as the soft fabric slid over it, and tears of exhaustion dampened his lashes. If the gods were kind, he would not pass before Ghost returned, so Gerry could have a chance to say goodbye to his precious Ghost.

***

"Ghost?" Natali's mental voice sounded odd, and Ghost sat up a little straighter.

"Lady smile on you, sister," he said. "I'm on my way back, and I think I have a cure. How are the villagers? How many more have died?" As much as he wanted to ask about Gerry, he needed to be a witch first and an anxious mate second.

"Seeker be thanked." Natali's relief was palpable. "You found the Witch, then?"