‘She was dead! You brung her to life!’
‘But without magic.’
‘You won’t help me, then?’
Klay nodded. ‘I’ll do what I can, Kells. Carmol has gone to fetch the physician I spoke of. When he returns, we’ll go to your mother and see what can be done.’
Kells sat quietly in the corner as the grey-haired physician examined Loira. The old man’s fingers pressed gently at the lumps, then probed her belly and back and loins. All the time the dying woman was groaning, semi-delirious; only the pain keeping her conscious. Her red hair was lank and greasy, her face pale and glistening with sweat. But even now she looked beautiful to Kells. He listened as the physician spoke to Klay, but he did not understand the conversation. Nor did he need to. The sepulchral tones conveyed it all. She was dying – and there was no god to lay his hands upon her. Anger rose as bile in Kells’s throat. He swallowed it down as hot tears flowed to his cheeks, streaking the dirt. Blinking rapidly, he fought for control. Tall Tess stood by the opposite corner, her skinny arms crossed. She was still wearing the tattered red dress that denoted her calling.
‘We need to get her to the hospice,’ he heard the physician say.
‘What is that?’ asked Kells, pushing himself up from the floor.
The old surgeon knelt before him. ‘It is a place the Lord Klay paid for, where people in great pain can spend . . . can be when their sickness is too great to heal. We have medicines there to take away the pain. You may come too, young man. You can sit with her.’
‘She’s going to die, isn’t she?’
Klay placed his hand on Kells’s skinny shoulder. ‘Aye, boy. There is nothing we can do. Eduse is the finest physician in Gulgothir. No-one knows more than he.’
‘We can’t pay for it,’ said Kells bitterly.
‘It is already paid for – by the Lord Klay,’ said Eduse. ‘It was built for those who have nothing. You understand? The Lord Klay . . .’
‘He needs no lecture about me, my friend. I am far less than he believed, and no amount of words will take away his disappointment.’ Leaning over the bed, he lifted the woman, cradling her head against his chest.
The sick woman groaned again and Tess moved to her, stroking her head. ‘It’s all right, my little dove. We’ll look after you. Tess’ll be there, Loira. And Kells.’
Klay carried Loira to the black carriage and opened the door. Kells and Tess scrambled in. Klay laid the now unconscious woman on a padded seat and sat beside her. The physician, Eduse, climbed up alongside the driver. Kells heard the slap of reins on the backs of the four horses, then the carriage lurched forward. His mother awoke and cried out in pain and Kells felt his heart would burst.
The journey did not take long, for the hospice was built close to the poor quarter, and Kells followed as Klay carried her inside the white-walled building. Orderlies in long white tunics rushed forward to help, laying Loira on a stretcher and covering her with a thick blanket of white wool. Eduse led them down a long corridor to a room as large as any Kells had ever seen. The north and south walls were lined with pallet beds, in which lay the sick and the dying. Many people were moving around the room – orderlies dressed in white, visitors arriving to see relatives or friends, physicians preparing medicines. The stretcher-bearers carried his mother the length of the room and out into another corridor, coming at last to a small room some twelve feet long. They transferred Loira to one of the two narrow beds, both covered in fresh white linen, then covered her with a blanket. After the orderlies had gone Eduse produced a phial of dark liquid. Lifting Loira’s head he poured the liquid into her mouth. She gagged, then swallowed. Some of the medicine dribbled to her chin. Eduse dabbed at it with a cloth, then eased her head back to the pillow.
‘You may sleep here with her, Kells,’ said Eduse. ‘You too,’ he told Tess.