'Chickweed and plantain leaves. Simmered in oil, then worked with beeswax into a salve.'
'That should work well,' she conceded. 'After the root poultice. '
I braced myself for his argument, but he only nodded. He suddenly looked very tired. He leaned back and pulled the blanket more closely about himself. His eyes sagged shut.
There was a knock at my door. I went to answer it, and found Kettricken standing there, with Rosemary at her elbow. 'One of my ladies told me there was a rumor Burrich had returned,' she began. Then she looked past me into the room. 'It's true, then. And he's hurt? What of my lord, oh, what of Verity?' She went suddenly paler than I thought she could be.
'He's fine,' I reassured her. 'Come in.' I cursed myself for my thoughtlessness. I should have sent word to her immediately of Burrich's return and of the tidings he carried. I should have known that otherwise she would not be told. As she entered, Patience and Lacey looked up from the devil's-club root they were steaming to welcome her with quick curtsies and murmurs of greeting.
'What's happened to him?' Kettricken demanded. And so I told her; reporting all that Burrich had told King Shrewd, for I thought she had as much right to word of her husband as Shrewd had to word of his son. She blanched again at mention of the attack on Verity, but kept silent until my telling was done. 'Thank all our gods that he draws closer to my Mountains. There he will be safe, from men at least.' That said, she drew closer to where Patience and Lacey were preparing the root. It had been steamed soft enough to crush into a pliable mass, and they were letting it cool before applying it to the infection.
'Mountain ash berry makes an excellent wash for such an injury,' she suggested aloud.
Patience looked up at her shyly. 'I have heard of that. But this warmed root will do much to draw the infection from the wound. Another good wash for proud flesh such as this is raspberry leaf and slippery elm. Or as a poultice.'
'We have no raspberry leaf,' Lacey reminded Patience. 'The damp got into it somehow and it molded.'
'I have raspberry leaf if you are in need of it,' Kettricken said softly. 'I had prepared it for a morning tea. It was a remedy my aunt taught me.' She looked down and smiled oddly.
'Oh?' Lacey asked in sudden interest.
'Oh my dear,' Patience suddenly exclaimed. She reached to take Kettricken's hand with a sudden, strange familiarity. 'Are you sure?'
'I am. At first I thought it was just… But then I began to have the other signs. Some mornings, even the smell of the sea can make me so miserable. And all I want to do is sleep.'
'But you should,' Lacey exclaimed with a laugh. 'As for the queasiness, it passes, after the first few months.'
I stood very still, foreign, excluded, forgotten. All three women suddenly laughed together. 'No wonder you were so anxious to have word of him. Did he know, before he left?'
'I did not even suspect it then. I so long to tell him, to watch his face.'
'You're with child,' I said stupidly. They all turned to look at me, and then burst out laughing anew.
'It's a secret, still,' Kettricken cautioned me. 'I want no rumors before the King has been told. I want to be the one to tell him.'
'Of course not,' I assured her. I did not tell her that the Fool already knew, and had known for days. Verity's child, I thought to myself. A sudden strange shivering raced over me. The branching of the path that the Fool had seen, the sudden multiplying of possibilities. One factor emerged above all others: the sudden removal of Regal, pushed one more step away from the throne. One more small life standing between him and the power he craved. How little he would care for that.
'Of course not,' I repeated more heartily. 'This news is best kept an absolute secret.' For once it was out, I had no doubt that Kettricken would be in as much danger as her husband.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE. Threats
THAT WINTER SAW Bearns devoured slowly, as a cliff is eaten by storm tides. At first, Duke Brawndy sent tidings to Kettricken on a regular basis. Word came to her by liveried messengers coming on horseback directly from the Duke. At first the tidings they brought were optimistic. Her opals rebuilt Ferry. The folk there sent her not only their thanks, but a small chest of the very tiny pearls so prized by them. Odd. What had been too treasured to be sacrificed even to rebuild their own village was freely offered in thanks to a Queen who had surrendered her jewels that they might have shelter. I doubt that the significance of their sacrifice would have meant as much to any other. Kettricken wept over the tiny chest.
Later messengers brought grimmer tidings. Between storms, the Red-Ships struck again and again. The messengers reported to Kettricken that Duke Brawndy wondered why the coterie member had left the Red Tower. When Kettricken boldly questioned Serene as to whether this was so, she said it had become too dangerous to keep Will there, for his Skill was too precious to be risked to the Red-Ships. The irony was lost on few folk. With each arriving messenger, the news worsened. The Outislanders had established footholds on Hook and Besham islands. Duke Brawndy assembled fishing vessels and warriors and boldly attacked on his own, but found the Red-Ships too well entrenched there. Ships and warriors perished, and Bearns reported gravely that there were no funds for another expedition. At that juncture, Verity's emeralds were turned over to Kettricken. She sent them off without a qualm. If they did any good, we did not hear of it. We were not even certain they were ever received. Messages from Bearns became more erratic, and it was soon obvious that there had been tidings sent that we had not received. Communication with Brawndy broke down entirely. After two of her own messengers had been sent forth from Buckkeep, never to return, Kettricken vowed she would risk no more lives. By then, the Raiders from Hook and Besham had begun to harry farther down the coast, avoiding the immediate vicinity of Buckkeep, but making feints and challenges to both the north and south of us. To all these raids, Regal remained staunchly indifferent. He claimed he was conserving resources until Verity could return with the Elderlings to drive the Raiders away once and for all. But the merriment and entertainments at Buckkeep became ever more lavish and frequent, and his gifts to his Inland dukes and nobles ever more generous.
By midafternoon, Burrich was back in his own chambers. I had wanted to keep him where I could watch over him, but he had scoffed at the idea. Lacey herself had seen to getting his chamber ready, and Burrich had grumbled enough about that. All she had done was to build up the fire, see water brought fresh, the bedding aired and shaken, and the floors swept and fresh rushes strewn. One of Molly's candles burned in the center of his table, putting a fresh piney scent into the musty room. But Burrich had growled that it scarcely felt like his own room. I had left him there, well propped up in bed and with a bottle of brandy close to hand.
I had understood the bottle only too well. As I had helped him through the stables and up to his loft, we had passed one empty stall after another. Not only horses were missing; prime hunting dogs were gone. I had no heart to go look in the mews; I was sure I would find them likewise plundered. Hands had walked beside us, silent but stricken. His efforts were plain.
The stables themselves were immaculate, the remaining horses groomed until they shone. Even the empty stalls were scrubbed and whitewashed. But an empty cupboard, no matter how clean, is no comfort to a starving man. I understood that the stables were Burrich's treasure and home. He had come back to find both looted.
After I left Burrich, I took a walk down to the barns and pens. Here the best of the breeding stock were wintered over. I found them as depleted as the stables. Prize bulls were gone. Of the curly-backed black sheep that used to fill one pen, there were only six ewes and one runty ram left. I was not as aware of what other stock had once been there, but too many pens and stalls were empty at a time of year when all were usually full.
From the barns, I wandered through the storage houses and outbuildings. Outside of one; some men were loading sacks of grain into a wagon. Two other wagons, already loaded, stood nearby. I stood a bit, watching them, and then offered to help as the wagon's load grew higher and the sacks harder to load. They accepted my help readily, and we talked as we worked. I waved them a cheery good-bye when the work was done, and walked slowly back to the Keep, wondering why a full warehouse of grain was being loaded onto a barge and sent upriver to Turlake.
I decided I would check on Burrich before going back to my own chambers. I climbed the steps to his chambers and was unsettled to find the door ajar. Fearing some sort of treachery, I pushed in, startling Molly, who
