I expected a positive response, but Joden didn't even look at me. He stared at the babe, hisface grim, "Joden?"
"I do not think I can craft that song, Warprize."
Puzzled, I studied his broad face, trying to figure out what he meant. "Of course. You're tired.
Now's not the time to create a song. I will save the letter, Joden. For later."
Joden ignored me, addressing Marcus instead. "My thanks, Marcus. I have the strength tocontinue in my task."
"No need of thanks, Singer." Marcus gave him an odd look, but didn't press the matter.
"What are you doing, Joden?" I asked.
"I am seeing to the dead, Lara. Someone must sing for them, even if just a snatch of song."
Joden straightened his back and stood. "Give me some good word, one that I can carry in myheart."
"It's slowing, Joden." I answered. "The number of newly ill is falling off."
He took a deep breath, nodding. "That is good, Warprize. I will take that with me." He lookeddown at the child, still shaking the bells. "The Warlord was right to hold us all here. I can'timagine this horror in the Plains."
"Among the children and theas." Marcus's voice was hushed. "It would destroy them."
"Destroy the very future of the tribes." Joden spoke with a cold voice. "With a city-dwelleraffliction."
"Joden?" His tone puzzled me. But Joden only gave me a curt nod, and then turned and left.
So the hours flowed, with no real sense of time. Warriors came and warriors died, and jars offever's foe and sleep-ease passed through my hands. I worked, slept when I couldn't keep myeyes open any longer, and ate when Marcus put food in front of me. There was an occasionalglimpse of Keir, as he worked to keep his army together. Which is why I cannot say whenMarcus appeared at the entrance to the stilltent, babe in hand, his face mottled and pale.
"Lara? She won't eat."
"Perhaps she's finally noticed just how bad gurt tastes." I kept my voice light as I moved to hisside.
"I thought she was sleeping. I checked on her regularly, but she slept on. I didn't think to touchher."
I placed my hand on the babe's forehead. The heat of her skin burned my fingertips. She didn'topen her eyes at my touch, just whimpered slightly.
"Goddess. The lake, Marcus. Now."
Marcus turned and ran into the sunlight.
I grabbed a jar of fever's foe and followed, gasping for air as I ran behind him. My legstrembled, but I forced them to move. Others raised their heads as we passed, curious.
Marcus never stopped. He splashed right into the lake, up to the waist, submerging himself andthe babe in his arms. He was balancing her on one arm, stripping away her blanket andswaddles, letting them sink as I entered the water. I ran to him, the cold water pulling at mylegs. The little one kept her eyes closed as the cold water hit her skin, but there was no cry,just a slight whimper. Hands trembling, I got a dab of the dark brown paste on my finger, andplaced it in the babe's mouth.
Those dark eyes opened, and hope blossomed in my chest. She looked so sad, but I held mybreath, waiting for her to protest the taste of the medicine.
Instead, she hiccupped once and closed her eyes.
A crowd had gathered on the shore as word spread that the babe was ill. Marcus continued tobathe her, cupping water in his free hand and pouring it over her head. He held her carefully,keeping her eyes and nose above the waterline.
The sound of running feet brought my head up, and Is-dra burst through the crowd, splashinginto the water. "Meara?" She asked as she came close.
"She's sick." Those were the only words I could force out. The babe lay so limp in Marcus'sarms, her entire body flushed, as if burned by the sun. Isdra, breathing hard, held her cold, wethands to Meara's cheeks. "She's on fire."
"Lotus?" Marcus asked.
I shook my head. "Not for babes. Too dangerous."
