Chapter 6

The Gods did not answer their fervent prayers. They were only half way to Ciene but all of them were soaked. But they pushed on. Miriam didn't mind the rain. At some point she had stopped caring about her wet clothing, which was quite liberating because she could focus on enjoying the rain as it kissed her face. Her hair was loosened and tangled by the wind but she would worry about it later.

They trotted through the mud. They met no one on the road. The windows of the cottages they passed were all tightly shut against the storm. Only a hint of light and warmth escaped. Adrian cursed the rain. He wished, more than anything, to scrub the mud off of him in a hot bath and crawl into a warm bed, preferably with a willing woman. He looked to Miriam and was incredulous when he saw her happiness. He included her in his curse as well. He turned his head at Jordan, and saw his misery reflected in his face as well.

"Healer witch," he muttered.

"I am not entirely short of hearing, you know!" Miriam protested.

"My apologies, lady" Adrian retorted, "I see not why you enjoy this weather."

"No, no, I'm the one at fault," Miriam said sarcastically. "My Lord had probably never ridden on days like this. He mostly likely snuggles by the fire and sips his wine daintily."

Jordan snorted, and Adrian shot him a dark scowl. It was too close to the truth, and both of them knew it. Though Adrian was not the pampered sort of lord, his dislike for wet weather was well-known.

To salvage his wounded pride, he lashed out irrationally. "With your tongue, it's little wonder that you're not married yet!"

He didn't think Miriam's chin could raise any higher, but it did. She looked down her nose at him disdainfully and said, "I am not married because I do not wish to. Not that this is any of your concern."

She urged her horse forward with her heels. Adrian sighed. It was the second time she had left him behind today.

"Come along, Jordan."

The Mallory tavern was the same as they had left it. Miriam swung down from the saddle wearily. She had rarely traveled this way, and the weather was beginning to take a toll on her energy. They had not had time to stop for lunch, and she had been too nervous this morning to eat breakfast. She felt faint. Her cold fingers tried to release the saddle bags, but they refused to obey. A warm hand closed over hers, and gently pushed them away.

"Here, allow me," Adrian said softly. "You should go inside."

Miriam had no more in her to argue. She nodded numbly and obeyed like an obedient child. A command from Adrian sent Jordan scrambling after her. He escorted her inside the warm building. Rivulets of water ran from her hair and her cloak to the floor. She shuddered violently from the sudden warmth that enveloped her. A few patrons looked up from their dinners and stared at her. The silver on her cloak glittered from the ruddy firelight. Jordan asked for two rooms from Mrs. Mallory.

"Here, deary," Mrs. Mallory said to Miriam. "Allow me to take your cloak."

Miriam apologized profusely for dripping on her clean floor, then followed her to a table close to the fireplace. Her gown was soaked as well, and splattered with mud, but their rooms had not been prepared yet. Mrs. Mallory hung the cloak by the fireplace and assured her that she will have someone brush the mud off later. Jordan excused himself from the table, saying that he had to help Lord Adrian with the horses. Miriam stretched gratefully towards the fire, rubbing her cold hands together. Mrs. Mallory brought her some warm soup and a hunk of bread and cheese. Miriam nodded her thanks and started to eat. The stew was hearty and warmed her from head to toe. She dug into it eagerly.

Adrian hid a smile when he walked through the door and saw her attacking the food. He and Jordan had taken their belongings to the rooms. He too was wet, but was famished. The two men sat down heavily at Miriam's table.

"I took your bags to your room," Adrian began. "Your sword too. You shouldn't leave your weapon like that."

"Seems like I no longer need to defend myself, seeing as how you are always around," Miriam retorted. She was in no mood to hear his criticism, but she knew he was right. She could almost smack herself for her forgetfulness.

Adrian shrugged in response as the food was set out in front of him. He cut himself a generous portion of bread and cheese for himself and Jordan, who murmured a word of thanks. Adrian ordered ale, while Miriam asked for some tea. The serving woman flirted with the men, and when Adrian sent her away abruptly, she glared at Miriam. Miriam smiled at her sweetly, which caused Adrian to hide his laughter in a fit of coughing.

When Adrian was shown his chamber, he almost wept with joy at the tub of hot water waiting. He eagerly stripped himself of the dirty clothes and grimaced as the hot water scalded his feet. He rubbed soap into his scalp and scrubbed violently at the mud clinging to his skin. When he was finally free of the smell of leather and horse, he settled down in the water and sighed contently. Idly, he wondered what Miriam was doing next door. He groaned inwardly, since the thought was having an effect on him.

When the water finally cooled, he dried himself and put on fresh clothes. He was drying his hair when Jordan came in.

"Lord Adrian, you better come down," he said urgently.

"What is it?"

"The Healer is downstairs in the tavern, and she's gathering quite a crowd."

Adrian cursed, buckled his sword on, and ran.

The hot bath had soothed Miriam's sore muscles. She added a few sprigs of lavender into the bath water on a whim, releasing the aroma throughout the room. Miriam was combing out knots in her hair when she heard a timid knock on her door. She opened it to find a young girl at the door, wringing her hand nervously.

"Yes?"

"I am terribly sorry, miss," the girl squeaked. "Me name is Kara, and I work 'ere at the tavern. The madam ordered me to clean your cloak, and... and I wanted to ask ye. Be ye the Healer?"

"Yes, I am," Miriam answered. She looked at the girl curiously.

The girl sighed with relief. She rambled, "You see, miss, me brother 'as an eye illness. The half healers would na see 'im, because we dona have money. It has been worse and worse, and now he couldna see verra well."

She chewed her lips, and looked as if she was going to cry. She looked so very young to Miriam.

"I sent a message to me brother, and he's 'ere downstairs right now. Would ye care to see 'im? We dunna 'ave much, but..."

"I will see him," Miriam cut her off gently. "You do not have to pay me."

"Oh, will ye really!" the girl exclaimed, clasping her hands together.

"I will be down shortly," Miriam said.

She gathered her medicine bag. She had checked earlier to see if any water seeped through the leather bags, but the moisture did not seep through the layers of waxed paper and oiled skins she had wrapped around her precious herbs. She pushed past a flabbergasted Jordan on the top of the staircase and stepped into the tavern.

Kara's arm was linked to that of a man whose eye was cloudy white. Miriam gestured that they should sit by the fire. Other men drinking ale were looking at them curiously and their conversation ceased. One of them shouted to Miriam that Kara had no money.

"It does not matter," Miriam said quietly.

She peeled his eyelids back and examined him carefully. She asked him questions and listened attentively. Digging through the bag, she found the paper packet she was looking for. She asked for hot water, which Kara fetched eagerly. Miriam tapped some powder into the water and stirred it. Taking a pair of tweezers, Miriam ran them through the candle's flame until they glowed red. When the water cooled, Miriam dripped it into his eyes. She held his eye open, and as everyone in the tavern held its breathe, she carefully removed a splinter from the eye. She wiped the tweezers carefully and folded the paper packet back securely. She took another packet from her bag and instructed Kara on its use.

Kara thanked her profusely, her tears running down her cheeks. She helped her brother up, and Miriam said more instructions to him. He nodded, and before he left, he clutched her hand and kissed it reverently. Miriam watched them walked out into the rain, and did not notice that the tavern remained very quiet. All eyes were watching her carefully. She sighed and began to pack up.

"Er, miss..." a hesitant man finally said. "My foot 'as a sore that never heals. Might ye look at it?"

"Of course," Miriam answered.