Fall of Angels (The Saga of Recluce #6)(151)

He wished he knew more about medicine and bodily systems. After a brief respite, he eased his senses out again, this time concentrating on her circulatory system, trying to strengthen the minuscule order he found there.

Had a touch of color returned to Ellysia's face? Was there a trace less of the whiteness around her?

"Still... so hot... do something .. .just look at me ..."

"He is doing something, Ellysia. Healers do it with their thoughts," insisted Istril from behind Nylan.

Even as he watched, Nylan could sense the faint order he had instilled crumble. Again, he forced himself out, to try to strengthen the ailing woman's internal order, to build dikes against the infection.

His own eyes blurred, and his head ached, and he looked blindly at the floor, seeing nothing. His knees started to shake, and he sank down on the planks beside the lander couch, trying to keep the room from swimming around him, even as he knew that what he'd done hadn't been enough.

He reached out, but it was too late. He slumped into darkness.

Someone was applying a damp cloth to his forehead when he woke. His eyes fixed on the silver hair.

"Ellysia?" he asked.

Istril shook her head. "She was better, but it didn't last."

Nylan started to shake his head, then stopped. Even that slight motion hurt too much.

Istril blotted his forehead again. "You tried to do too much. Even I could feel it."

". . . wasn't enough .. ."

"You need to drink something." She held a mug.

Nylan struggled up into a half-sitting position. His head felt like his own hammers were pounding on it. The triangle rang for the evening meal, but he concentrated on sipping the water. By the time he had finished the mug, the hammering inside his skull had diminished to a dull thumping.

"Try this." Istril handed him a slice of bread.

Nylan could hear the whimpering from the cradle. "Take care of Weryl. I'm feeling better." He paused. "Dephnay?"

"Siret has her now. Over there."

As he chewed the thin slice of bread, Nylan's eyes jumped to the next alcove, where Siret held two infants.

Istril eased Weryl out of the cradle and to her breast. The whimpering was replaced with sucking, interspersed with a noise sounding to Nylan suspiciously like a slurp.

"He likes to eat," said the smith.

"I've started giving him a few mushy things. The solids seem to help him sleep a little longer, but he still nurses a lot." Istril looked down at her son. "Little pig."

Some of Nylan's dizziness passed, and he eased himself into a sitting position. He noticed that Ellysia's bed was vacant.

"Jaseen moved her. Said she wanted her in the ground as quick as possible."

Nylan nodded.

"I don't understand," Istril said. "No one got sick all winter, and it was cold, and we didn't really have enough to eat. Why now?"

"Because it was cold," Nylan tried to explain, as much for himself as for Istril. "It was too cold for mosquitoes, flies, and insects that carry diseases. We didn't see any traders. Now, after the winter, there are a lot more ways to catch things, and Ellysia was just worn out."

He didn't add that not having two healers around probably hadn't helped either, but with the raging infection that had surged through Ellysia, he wondered whether even both he and Ayrlyn would have been able to do anything.

His head turned toward the dark-haired baby girl Siret held. "She'll have to be fed. I don't suppose she's had much solid food."

"I can nurse Dephnay some," volunteered Istril.

"I can, too," added Siret.

"I suppose I can make it down to eat." Nylan eased himself erect.

"Are you sure?" asked Istril.

"I'll manage." Since Nylan finally could move without his head spinning, he tottered down the single flight of stairs and into the great room, followed by Siret and Istril, and the three infants.

"... silver-haired bunch ..."

"... they look after him."

"Engineer. . . looks like shit..."

"... nearly killed himself... they said . .."

". . . more dead than alive . . ." murmured Selitra.

"I'm not that bad," he rasped back. "I can still hear whispers."

Selitra blushed.

Nylan continued past the lower tables and slid into his place. He immediately broke off a chunk of bread and began to chew.

"You're still pale." Ryba patted Dyliess in the carrypack on her chest.

Huldran, beside Nylan, nodded.

"Healing's harder than smithing or stone masonry," Nylan grunted after chewing the first mouthful of bread.

"Ooo . . ." interjected Dyliess.

"I'm glad you agree," said Nylan. "A daughter's opinion is important."

"Oooo . .."

Huldran grinned.

Nylan finally took a chunk of the sauce-covered unknown meat. He barely had to use his knife. The brown sauce wasn't the burning dish that Blynnal called burkha, but a cinnamon mint, hot but not too hot. It also concealed whatever the meat was, and that, Nylan decided, was fine with him. He broke off another chunk of bread and dipped the end into the sauce, then took a sip of the cool tealike drink that was also new, and less bitter than the hot bark-and-root tea of winter had been.