Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [90]
“Take her up to her chamber, Yraen.” Labanna’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away. “I’ll follow you up. Page! Where’s a wretched page? We need to fetch Jill.”
With Lightning bounding ahead of them, Yraen carried her upstairs, first past the landing of the women’s hall and then up another spiral to the chamber she once had shared with her husband. Fortunately, she’d left the door unbarred, so he could kick it open and maneuver her inside. He laid her down on the bed, then went to the window to fling open the shutters for some air and light. A little breeze was blowing, blessedly cool. Carra struggled with her kirtle, which was pinned with a small brooch. When she tried to unclasp it, she stuck her finger.
“Here, here,” Yraen sat down next to her. “Let me.”
His broad fingers, all calloused and battle-hardened, were clumsier than her own, but at last he got the brooch free and the kirtle untied. Carra sucked the bleeding tip of her finger and watched him try to fold the cloth.
“Just throw it onto that chair,” she said at last. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Very well.”
For a moment, he sat beside her, the cloth of gold in his hands, and looked out the window at the sky. Through the open door, she could hear voices, panting up the stairs. She wanted to apologize to Yraen, but if she did, their talk would inevitably dredge up the painful truth that he loved her. The moment ended; he rose and strode across the room just as Jill appeared in the door with Labanna right behind her. The dweomermaster carried a cloth sack that smelled of herbs.
“I’m sorry,” Carra burst out. “I know I’ve been weak again.”
“Do hush,” Labanna said. “It’s all right.”
Jill said nothing, merely laid her hand on Carra’s forehead.
“Well, you’re clammy and cold, sure enough. Labanna says the meat set you off.”
“It was all the pepper. I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” Jill considered for a moment. “But you’re fairly well along now. These queasy spells should be passing off.”
“It was the noise, too, and everything so crowded. Really, I’ll be fine in a bit.” Carra bit back another apology just in time. “I just felt so odd.”
“Odd?” Jill went stock-still. “How? Queasy, you mean?”
“That, too, but just odd. I couldn’t think right.”
“Carra, this might be very important. Try to remember. You say you couldn’t think right. Do you remember why?”
“Well.” All her shame at having put her dog before a man who loved her flooded back. “Sort of. I was trying to decide a thing, you see, and I couldn’t, and I just felt so worthless, all of a sudden, like I couldn’t do anything right.”
“Did you ever feel that—well, this will sound very peculiar, I know—but did you feel that someone was interfering with your mind?”
“What? I didn’t, truly.” All at once, she realized what Jill must mean. “You mean, someone like another sorcerer?”
“Just that.”
“I didn’t, but, ye gods! Do you think it might happen?”
“It’s not very likely. I was just making sure.” Jill walked over to the window and looked out as if she were studying the view. “You’d best rest, Carra. Yraen, you guard the door. I’ll have someone bring you food.”
“Jill?” Labanna said. “Wouldn’t she be better off in the women’s hall?”
“Once you’re all in it, she will be. But for now, I want her in a room that Yraen can enter if he has to.” Jill stopped, thinking something through. “My lady, and you, too, Silver Dagger, if you could leave us for a moment? Just shut the door, too, would you?”
Once they’d all left, and the room was quiet again, Carra felt well enough to sit up, pulling the pillows behind her to rest against. Jill sat down on the chair.
“Carra, what do you think of Yraen?”
Carra bit