Read Online Seer of Sevenwaters by Juliet Marillier - Free Book Online
Authors: Juliet Marillier
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might inspire such disquiet. I was not even wearing my druid’s robe, only my gown and shawl with my damp hair over my shoulders.
“Gull, he’s awake,” I said. “Should I offer him water?”
But before Gull could answer, the heavy lids had closed again. Fang got to her feet, turned around three times on the blankets and with a sigh settled once more.
Gull tended to the sick man’s blisters, his own disfigured hands gentle and sure. We kept vigil awhile, not saying much. It was good to sit quietly in the warm light of fire and lamp, letting the grim sounds and somber sights of the day settle in our minds. I had thought perhaps the whole community might be abed, but a little later Clodagh came in, with Cathal following.
“Still up, Sibeal?” It was plain that this was what my sister had expected, and the reason she had come. “Off to bed with you—go on. We’ll keep Gull company awhile. Druid you may be, and hero as well, but you need your sleep.”
Whether it was the draft Gull had given me or simple exhaustion catching up with me at last, I decided not to argue the point, though it seemed to me my sister, so close to her confinement time, must need rest more than I did. Cathal’s presence reassured me. He would make sure Clodagh did not sit up too late. I bade them all good night and retreated to my little chamber, where a cold draft was whistling in under the door. As I slipped under the blankets, I wished there was more than one dog on the island.
Next morning, the wind turned to a scourging gale. The gray sea was churned to whitecaps and clouds blotted out the sun. Preparation of the grave site continued under the lowering sky, with men going out in teams and returning periodically to stand shivering by the kitchen fire, chilled hands wrapped around pannikins of Biddy’s vegetable soup. I spent much of the day in my chamber, preparing myself for the ceremony. In the infirmary an orderly pattern of work continued, Muirrin tending to various folk who came in and out, with Clodagh’s occasional help, while Gull and Evan took turns to watch over the man I had rescued. I took a shift when the others went to eat. If anything, the man looked worse. His skin was a disturbing shade of gray, and when his eyes were open there was a glazed look about them, as if he did not really see me. I held his hand and murmured prayers.
Some time later, while I sat quietly in my chamber planning the words for the ritual I would conduct at dusk, I heard Muirrin and Evan talking in the main part of the infirmary.
“Look at this. His water’s as dark as oak wood.”
“He’s been in the sea a long time,” Evan said. “That plays havoc with a man’s insides. I have to say . . . ” His voice fell to a murmur.
“Perhaps it’s best if Sibeal doesn’t know that,” my sister said, at which moment I entered the infirmary proper.
“Doesn’t know what?” I asked.
“You’ll be upset,” said Muirrin.
“I would be more upset if I thought something was being kept from me,” I said. Perhaps I sounded more druid than sister, for she explained it in full as she would to a fellow healer. After long immersion in water and exposure to cold, sometimes the body lost the ability to perform certain vital tasks. The dark urine was an ominous sign. Other symptoms might follow: a failure to pass water for days, causing ill humors to build up. Or the opposite: a sudden flood, leaving the person drained and weak.
“Is there a remedy?” I asked. She’d been right; I was upset.
“Nothing we can be sure will work,” Muirrin said bluntly. “Gull may know more.”
After that, I stayed where I could see the sick man. Perhaps, while I watched over him and willed him to live, Morrigan would not come for him. But that was foolish; neither druid nor warrior, king nor sage had the power to cheat the gods. I was relieved when Gull came in, for his strong, quiet presence calmed me.
“Keep giving him water,” he said when Muirrin
“Gull, he’s awake,” I said. “Should I offer him water?”
But before Gull could answer, the heavy lids had closed again. Fang got to her feet, turned around three times on the blankets and with a sigh settled once more.
Gull tended to the sick man’s blisters, his own disfigured hands gentle and sure. We kept vigil awhile, not saying much. It was good to sit quietly in the warm light of fire and lamp, letting the grim sounds and somber sights of the day settle in our minds. I had thought perhaps the whole community might be abed, but a little later Clodagh came in, with Cathal following.
“Still up, Sibeal?” It was plain that this was what my sister had expected, and the reason she had come. “Off to bed with you—go on. We’ll keep Gull company awhile. Druid you may be, and hero as well, but you need your sleep.”
Whether it was the draft Gull had given me or simple exhaustion catching up with me at last, I decided not to argue the point, though it seemed to me my sister, so close to her confinement time, must need rest more than I did. Cathal’s presence reassured me. He would make sure Clodagh did not sit up too late. I bade them all good night and retreated to my little chamber, where a cold draft was whistling in under the door. As I slipped under the blankets, I wished there was more than one dog on the island.
Next morning, the wind turned to a scourging gale. The gray sea was churned to whitecaps and clouds blotted out the sun. Preparation of the grave site continued under the lowering sky, with men going out in teams and returning periodically to stand shivering by the kitchen fire, chilled hands wrapped around pannikins of Biddy’s vegetable soup. I spent much of the day in my chamber, preparing myself for the ceremony. In the infirmary an orderly pattern of work continued, Muirrin tending to various folk who came in and out, with Clodagh’s occasional help, while Gull and Evan took turns to watch over the man I had rescued. I took a shift when the others went to eat. If anything, the man looked worse. His skin was a disturbing shade of gray, and when his eyes were open there was a glazed look about them, as if he did not really see me. I held his hand and murmured prayers.
Some time later, while I sat quietly in my chamber planning the words for the ritual I would conduct at dusk, I heard Muirrin and Evan talking in the main part of the infirmary.
“Look at this. His water’s as dark as oak wood.”
“He’s been in the sea a long time,” Evan said. “That plays havoc with a man’s insides. I have to say . . . ” His voice fell to a murmur.
“Perhaps it’s best if Sibeal doesn’t know that,” my sister said, at which moment I entered the infirmary proper.
“Doesn’t know what?” I asked.
“You’ll be upset,” said Muirrin.
“I would be more upset if I thought something was being kept from me,” I said. Perhaps I sounded more druid than sister, for she explained it in full as she would to a fellow healer. After long immersion in water and exposure to cold, sometimes the body lost the ability to perform certain vital tasks. The dark urine was an ominous sign. Other symptoms might follow: a failure to pass water for days, causing ill humors to build up. Or the opposite: a sudden flood, leaving the person drained and weak.
“Is there a remedy?” I asked. She’d been right; I was upset.
“Nothing we can be sure will work,” Muirrin said bluntly. “Gull may know more.”
After that, I stayed where I could see the sick man. Perhaps, while I watched over him and willed him to live, Morrigan would not come for him. But that was foolish; neither druid nor warrior, king nor sage had the power to cheat the gods. I was relieved when Gull came in, for his strong, quiet presence calmed me.
“Keep giving him water,” he said when Muirrin
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