Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [41]
“But it’s said that when the wind spirits catch a person, if he’s not killed outright he goes mad. Is our sweet boy driven mad, good master?”
Weakness suddenly shook through Caelan’s legs and traveled upward through his whole body. He closed his eyes in wretchedness, then felt his father’s warm, dry palm upon his brow. The trembling fit was driven back, and Caelan sighed in relief.
“He is not mad,” Beva said.
“The gods be praised,” Anya said, dabbing at her eyes with her shawl. “Why, then, won’t he speak to us? Why does he look so far away?”
Beva replaced the blankets around Caelan. “He is deeply severed, Anya. It is a way to heal his mind and soul after what happened. When he is ready, he will rejoin us.”
She tried to smile, without much success. “And Farns?” she whispered, stroking the old man’s gray hair.
Beva paused, and for a moment his gaze did not look so sure. “Old Farns will rejoin us when he can.”
Anya nodded and wiped her eyes again. She left to return to her work, but Beva lingered to gaze down at Caelan.
Caelan saw worry show plainly in his father’s eyes, as though to refute everything he had just said.
Caelan let his gaze wander away. He did not speak.
Sunshine awakened him, bright and warm on his face. He stirred and opened his eyes, only to squint against a blinding beam of light. Shifting on his pillow, Caelan looked around.
The man with the broken leg was gone. Old Farns slept, his chest rising and falling beneath the blanket.
The inner shutters on the ward windows had been folded back. Sunshine was coming in around the edges of the outer shutters. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful.
Caelan flung off his covers and climbed out of bed. His legs felt strange and shaky, but he managed to stagger over to the window. Unbolting the shutters, he pushed them open and looked out across the courtyard.
The snow was dazzling in the sunshine. Great drifts of the white stuff filled the corners of the courtyard. Lea, bundled up in a scarlet wool cloak, scampered about. She was rolling up huge balls of snow almost as big as herself. Caelan smiled to himself at the sight of her.
Across the way, a neat path had been shoveled to the stables. He saw Raul breaking ice on the watering trough and lifting out the chunks. They shattered and skidded across the cobblestones.
“Oh!” said a voice behind Caelan. “You’re up.”
Caelan turned around and saw Gunder standing in the doorway like a startled hare. Always ill at ease, Gunder turned beet red and hastened forward.
“Your eyes look back to normal,” Gunder said. “Are you feeling better?”
“I’m starving,” Caelan answered. His throat felt dry and sore. His voice sounded like a rusty croak. “Is Anya still in the kitchen?”
As he spoke, he walked back toward his cot. One moment he felt fine; the next, his knees buckled.
Gunder caught him before he fell and made him sit on the bed. “Slowly,” he said. His long fingers gripped Caelan’s shoulder to steady him while he peered into Caelan’s eyes. “Hmm.”
“What is this?” Beva said sharply, entering the ward without warning. “Why is the window open? Cold air is pouring in.”
Gunder stepped back from Caelan hastily and tucked his hands into his sleeves. He stared at the floor. “I think he may be better, Master Beva,” he said diffidently. “He spoke.”
“Ah.” Beva shut the window with a bang. Dusting off his hands, he tilted up Caelan’s chin to look at him.
Caelan pulled back. “I’m tired of being poked. I want to eat.”
A rare smile lit Beva’s face for an instant; then he glanced over his shoulder. “Thank you, Gunder. Go and tell the Neika he must not walk so much on his leg yet.”
Gunder hastened out, mumbling something too low to hear.
Beva turned back to Caelan. “Your severance is ended. I am glad to see you so much better.”
Confusion filled Caelan. He rarely saw tenderness in his father. He didn’t know how to react.
“I’m hungry,” he said again.
Beva smiled and nodded. “Very well. Growing boys think only of their stomachs, but you haven’t eaten in three days. Let me cover you with the blanket, and Anya