The Dragonstone

CHAPTER 4

Within a candlemark of plucking the flowers, drenched and mud spattered, Aiko and Yngli returned to Morkfjord, Yngli bearing a leather sack filled with snow, the blue-petaled blossoms within. As they strode to the dock, the rain pattered down gently, the rage of the storm having moved off to the east, though now and again the sky was lit by the backflare of distant lightning. Yngli opened the door to the Cove and followed Aiko in, the small man holding up the bag and declaring to one and all, "Hoy, everyone, we're back wi' our bouquet." A shout greeted the announcement as Yngli and the yellow woman shed their dripping cloaks.

"Ah, good and well done, Aiko. Good and well done, Yngli," said Arin, looking up from her red stitchery as she sewed Egil's sword gash shut. She'd had to cut the flesh anew so the wound would grow back together, and her fingers and hands were slathered with his fresh blood. "Thar, separate the flowers from the snow. Tryg, put a kettle over the charcoal. We'll use pure melt to make the tea."

Yngli stepped up to the bar and handed the bag to Thar as Arin continued to stitch. Then he slapped himself on the chest and gestured to Aiko and called out, "Hoy, Tryg, give me and her a tot o' brandy. We're soaked t' th' bone and dead chill."

Tryg grunted at Olar, and the fisherman fetched a flask and two cups and filled them nearly to the brim.

The small man took up both cups and handed one to Aiko, then he quaffed a stiff drink from his own. "Whuk!" he choked, then began hacking and coughing. Bili pounded him on the back repeatedly till he caught his wind and voice again. With his eyes watering he looked 'round the Cove and finally declared, "Whoo! Good stuff."

As the laughter died down, Yngli glanced at Egil, then turned to Orri. "How were it, Captain? Egil, I mean."

Orri shook his head, and for the first time Yngli saw that the raider had a bloody nose. "By gar, he woke up when we put th' hot knife t' him. Berserk he was. It took eleven o' us j'st t' hold him down. Broke my nose, I think. Then she"-Orri nodded toward Arin-"soothed him with a song and got him drunk on brandy till he passed out. Adon's blood, Yngli, look at him: he's happy as a clam, drunk as he is, or would be if he were awake."

"I think not," said Thar, shaking his head. "Were he awake he'd be in pain, no matter th' brandy."

Arin cinched the final stitch and tied off and clipped the gut. "There. It is done. Thar, wouldst thou bandage this man's hurts?"

Thar took up the muslin to swathe Egil's wounds; as he did so he examined the work. "As fine a job o' tackin' as could be, Lady-tight, close, tiny-I c'd ne'r do as well. He'll ha'e a scar, though a fine one, what wi' th' splendid work ye ha'e done." He began carefully wrapping cloth about Egil's head, covering forehead, eye, and cheek, leaving the man's mouth and nose and good eye free.

"He will be in pain for some days to come," said Arin as she washed her crimson hands and arms in the basin Tryg had brought. "Hast thou no sleeping draughts at all? Nought to relieve the ache?"

Thar shrugged and muttered, "Nought," as he finished with the wrapping.

Arin sighed. "Then we must needs make some, can we find the ingredients."

"What is it ye need?" asked Thar, tying the last knot.

Above the glowing charcoal the teakettle began to hiss and steam.

"At the moment, healer," said Arin, looking 'round while toweling off her hands and forearms, "I need to make the arel tea. As to the draughts, we will speak of them after."

The Dylvana turned to Tryg. "Hast thou a teapot? No? Then an earthenware vessel will do."

With Thar watching, Arin plucked blue petals from the flowers and cast them in one of Tryg's wide-mouthed mulling jugs. When she judged she had enough, she poured the boiling snowmelt in as well-sufficient to make a bit over a quart of tea altogether. A sweet fragrance wafted up from the jug, heartening all those nearby.

"Aiko, Yngli," she called to the two as the beverage steeped, "ye need both drink a cup of this as well, for I would not have ye come down with fever, drenched as ye were."

Moments passed and moments more as the benefit of the petals infused throughout the hot melt. Finally Arin dipped up a spoonful of the steaming liquid and blew on it and then tasted it. With a nod, the Dylvana filled a cup and motioned Aiko to do likewise and to pour one for Yngli too. As Aiko complied, Arin stepped upon the crate to stand at Egil's side. She waited long moments for the steaming tea to cool down, testing it now and again. Finally, slowly and carefully, a bit at a time, she began spooning small sips of the clear liquid into Egil's mouth as he reflexively swallowed. After a while she gave over the task to Thar.

Arin turned to Orri. "Captain."

"Lady."

"The wounds of thine other men-"

"Ar, nothin' as bad as Egil's, them what wasn't killed outright. We patched up most aboard."

Thar looked up from his task. "Ye've done enough, Lady. I'll see to their scratches."

Arin smiled at the healer and turned again to Orri. "Is Egil married, betrothed, promised?"

"Ha!" Orri barked a laugh. "Nay, Lady. He be free wi' th' women, and they be free wi' him."

"Then, Captain, when he has had his cup of tea and another, I would have thy men bear him to my quarters at Blackstein Lodge where I may tend him in the days to come."

Orri's eyes widened, but he said, "Aye, Lady."

Arin poured herself a cup of arel tea and then moved to where Aiko sat with Yngli. As the Dylvana took a chair, she said to Aiko, "Egil will be moved to our quarters at Blackstein Lodge."

Aiko's dark eyes betrayed no hint of approval or censure. Instead with a faint nod of her head, Aiko acknowledged Arin's words.

"We cannot afford to lose him," added the Dylvana.

Again Aiko faintly nodded.

Yngli turned to Aiko. "I'd ask ye t' come t' my home, but I think my wife w'd take an axe t' me."

Aiko looked at him impassively, then said, "If I did not take my sword to you first."

Yngli laughed, heartily to begin with but fading to silence as he looked into the warrior woman's eyes. He shuddered, dropping his hands to cover his crotch. "Why, I b'lieve y'would at that." Abruptly, Yngli downed the last of his arel tea, then stood. "As long as Captain Orri's buying, I be thinkin' I'll ha'e me some ale." He turned to Arin. "Thank ye f'r th' tea, Lady."

"I thank thee for thy help, Master Yngli," she replied.

Yngli bowed to them both-"Ladies"-and spun on his heel and shouted, "Hoy, Tryg, set me up a mug o' ale!"

For long moments Arin sipped her tea in silence, then turned to Aiko. But before she could say aught, Thar called, "Lady Arin, Egil's had his two cups o' tea."

Wearily, Arin pressed her fingers to her eyes, then stood. "Captain Orri?"

"Har there, Bili, Svan, Angar, Rolle… take up Egil's litter and bear him t' th' Blackstein, t' Lady Arin's quarters."

"Cover him wi' a cloak or two," added Thar, "it still be rainin' out."

As they carried the unconscious man away, Aiko got to her feet and donned her still wet cloak and said in a low voice, "Then you think, Dara, as do I, that this is the man of your Seeing?"

Arin caught up her own cloak and turned to the warrior. "Art thou forgetting Alos?"

The corners of Aiko's mouth turned down. "Dara, how can you think of Alos when Egil is the one?"

"Alos, too, has but one eye," responded Arin, the Dylvana, looking about. "And speaking of Alos, where has he gotten to?"

They found the scraggly old man lying under a table in the corner, surrounded by empty ale mugs and clutching an empty brandy flagon and sleeping in his own vomit.

Aiko covered her nose in disgust, but with a sigh Arin said, "We must take him, too."

Aiko's eyes widened, then she said, "To the boathouse where he sleeps, neh?"

"Nay, Aiko. To our quarters in the lodge."

Aiko looked down at Alos in disgust. "But, Dara, he is foul, fuketsuna, unclean."

Arin settled her cloak about her shoulders. "Then we will have to bathe him."

"Huah!" Aiko shook her head. "Scour him, you mean. And pumice his teeth and mint his breath and burn his clothes as well."

"Enough, Aiko," admonished Arin. "He has but one eye, and we must discover if he is the one."

"Jikoku," growled Aiko… then sighed. "If it is your will, Dara."

With that, Aiko reached beneath the table and dragged Alos by his ankle out from under, ale cups rattling in his wake, the flagon lost to his grip. Then with a grunt she hefted him up and across her shoulders. And with Orri and his raiders looking on in wonder, she followed Arin across the floor and out into the dank night, a thin thread of vomit-tainted drool dribbling from Alos's slack jaw and leaving a wet trail behind.