If the healer was concerned about the way the cough hung on, he made no mention of it to Robinton. And soon they were well enough to go back to their own quarters. Juvana had put braziers in both rooms, to take the chill off. The black rock burned hotly, but with a smell and an acrid smoke which sometimes irritated Kasia’s cough. Rob suggested returning to the warmer, lower level, but she said she wanted to be in the place they had fixed for themselves, with all their own things. And anyway, she added, they would both be spending much of their time in the warmer schoolrooms when they resumed their duties the following seven-day.
Clostan became very busy as the unnaturally cold weather brought him many coughs and colds, running noses and fevers. He continued to check up on Kasia, but she kept insisting that she felt fine.
“Except for the cough,” Robinton added, chiding her for not mentioning it.
“It’s only now and then, Rob,” she said. Her listlessness still worried him. She seemed so tired by evening that she would fall asleep in his arms. He didn’t mind; she felt so good against him, and he felt so protective of his lovely green-eyed spouse.
The cold was further compounded by three blizzards, following one after the other. No one moved about the Hold or attempted to take the ships out for fish. Lord Melongel was a good provider and, while the weather remained so bitter, opened his stores to those who were short of food. It was essential to keep everyone healthy in this awful weather.
A feverish cough developed and spread from the schoolroom to the old aunties and uncles. Clostan asked for assistance in his nursing duties and both Robinton and Kasia volunteered, since many of the patients were their students.
Then, one night, Robinton was awakened by Kasia’s thrashing.
Moaning and mumbling, throwing her arms and legs about, she was burning up with fever. Robinton charged down to the infirmary, where the assistant healer on night duty gave him the powdered herb which would reduce the fever, and the salve to rub on her throat, chest and back. Robinton detoured to the kitchen and got himself klah and a pitcher of the flavoured water that was being used for invalids.
Kasia had managed to throw off the furs and was lying uncovered in the cold room. He quickly covered her and then applied the salve, its pungent smell seeping into his nose and lungs. Then he roused her to take a few sips of the herb drink. He dozed now and then, between forcing her to drink. By morning she was delirious, and he was becoming more and more worried. The herb had seemed effective with everyone else he nursed, but her coughing fits were getting harder and longer.
He almost cried out with relief when Clostan, red-eyed and weary, came in. Kasia chose that moment to indulge in one of her coughing spasms, and Clostan came swiftly to the bedside.
“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, feeling her forehead and cheeks. “You’ve the salve on? Use more, and repeat it every three hours. Here, let’s give her my special remedy.”
He mixed the draught himself and made her drink it.
“She obeys you more than she does me,” Robinton remarked peevishly.
“You’re her spouse,” Clostan said with a weary grin. “Mind you, most of your patients have recovered, so I’m sure she will.”
There was, however, a note in Clostan’s voice that caught
Robinton’s ear.
“You are?”
“Of course I am. She’s young and … well, she’s far less vulnerable than those down the hall.” His face fell into sad lines.
“More deaths?” Robinton asked, and Clostan nodded.
“The very old have no stamina. And we’ve got their quarters as warm as an oven.”
He left then, but Juvana arrived shortly afterwards and together they moved Kasia down to a guest room, where a fire roared on the hearth.
Together Juvana and Robinton nursed Kasia. Clostan came in several times that day, and yet her fever persisted. To Robinton, it seemed that she was hotter every time he felt her forehead. He knew this wasn’t the course the illness usually took and remembered what Clostan had said about the elderlies’ lack of stamina.