Waddle, actually. Quickly, but she waddled nonetheless, swaying from side to side like a cartoon character.
Chase urged his horse to a trot to save the elderly woman the effort.
“What’s happened to her? What have you done to her?” she demanded as Chase reached her side.
“No, no, Orabilis,” Christiana pulled herself forward, grimacing as she moved. “It’s an accident with a runaway wagon what’s put me in this distress. This kind man has brought me to you for help.”
“Come along with you, then.” Orabilis wiped her hands down the sides of her apron, already waddling toward her open door. “Bring her in. Lay her by the fire. Dinna you dawdle, now. I can see from here that she’s in pain.”
Chase did as he was told, kneeling to gently deposit Christiana onto a fur the old woman spread out in front of the fire. She lay with her eyes closed, her face pale. One hand clutched at a small cloth pouch hanging from her neck while the fingers of her other hand twined with his, gripping him tightly.
It was only because she was in pain. The logical part of his brain knew that. Something deep in his chest though, some odd twinge-like thing there, didn’t want to break that contact. The odd twinge-thing wanted to believe that she held on to him because his touch made a difference—histouch, not just the touch of any human being. He chose to listen to the twinge-thing, remaining on his knees, holding Christiana’s hand, rubbing his thumb in circles on her palm while Orabilis searched through a shelf overflowing with small clay pots.
At last she found what she wanted and made her way over to the fire. With a grunt, she struggled toher knees. Chase held out his free hand to assist her but she ignored the offer, her watery eyes tracking from his hand holding Christiana’s to his face and back down again.
Her unspoken message was clear enough. He untwined his fingers from Christiana’s and rose to his feet to stand by the door to wait. To watch. To make sure all was well.
Not that he really believed this old lady was a witch. Or that she would in any way harm Christiana. It was only that he needed to be sure of Christiana’s safety before he stepped back outside to deal with his horse.
“I’m so sorry about the flour. I’ve hopes some of it can still be brought to you.” Christiana shook her head as if the accident had been her own fault. “I ken you must be in need of more by now.”
“Pfft,” Orabilis answered, lifting Christiana’s head to allow her to drink from the clay pot the old woman held. “Only a small sip now, little one. Dinna you waste another thought upon the flour. I’ll make do. Surely that’s no the only thing what’s brought you all the way out here, is it?”
“My herbs are gone. Skuld willna allow me entrance without them, and I have desperate need to see the path she’s woven for me.”
“Why would you...” Orabilis paused, turning her pale stare in Chase’s direction. “You. Dinna you be standing there, wasting what’s left of this day’s light. Best you go collect those peat turves you mademe drop when you came riding up here on that great beast of yers. Scared the very life out of me, you did.”
“My apologies,” he began.
“I’ve no need for yer apologies, lad. Only for those turves, if I’m to keep this fire burning through the night. Now, get along with you and do as I asked, aye? And there’s food and shelter for yer animal in the shed out back. See to it.”
With a nod, Chase escaped into the fresh air. The looks on the faces of both women made it quite clear that his presence was no longer necessary or desired. That old woman had all but tossed him out on his ear. In a whole different century, he could easily picture her as a retired drill sergeant.
Christiana didn’t appear to be in any danger from Orabilis, though the desperation in her voice when she spoke of the “herbs” she’d come after bothered him a little. He didn’t remember much of the history he’d learned covering drugs in the Middle Ages, but there was probably a whole lot the history books didn’t cover. It was definitely something he planned to ask Christiana about later on. Just as he’d be asking Orabilis what was in that little jar she’d given Christiana to drink.
For now, he’d do as he’d been told and let the wise woman do what she could to alleviate Christiana’s pain.
“THANK YOU.” CHRISTIANAlay back on the heavy fur, giving in to the throbbing pain she’d felt for thepast few hours. Without Chase holding her hand it seemed to hurt worse. “I wasna thinking properly to be bringing up such things in front of Chase.” Especially not in front of Chase.
“Chase, is it now? Yer on a given-name basis with this man?”
Heat suffused Christiana’s neck and cheeks. The pain robbed her of her concentration and had allowed her words, always so carefully guarded, to flow like spring runoff. Fortunately, Orabilis was the one person in the world with whom she had little need to guard her tongue.
One glance to the doorway to assure herself that he was well and truly not within hearing distance, and she was ready to voice her confession.
“It’s him, Shen-Ora.” The name she’d called Orabilis in her childhood slipped easily off her lips, as if it hadn’t been so very many years since she’d uttered it last. “The one I’ve been waiting for.”
“Ah, the man of yer dreams.”
“Nofrommy dreams,” she corrected, trying to lift the precious bundle she wore at her neck to prove what she said. “But from my vishes...vitches...visions. He’s the one I saw in my Visions.” Her tongue grew thick and heavy, just like her lips. And her eyelids. They were almost too heavy to lift open. “He’s why I need the herbs. I must travel the proper path. I canna let him fall to Torquil. There is so much I must learn. I told you of him on my last visit. Told you he’s the only one who might have me. No! Theonly one who mightsaveme. That’s what I meant to say. Save me.”
“So you did, little one.” Orabilis chuckled, her words drifting somewhere in the distance. “And save you, yer fine warrior will. You’ll have yer herbs soon enough, but for now, we must concentrate on you and yer injury. Give yourself over to the potion, Christy. No need to stay here and do battle with the pain. Just drift for me.”
Orabilis’s voice seemed to come from a dream, floating past Christiana’s ears in a most soothing way. And then, just as her mind slipped into a warm, safe place, the old woman touched her ankle and a scream ripped up her throat, the pain so intense it was as if a thousand demons stabbed her with their spears.
Stabbed her and dragged her down into a black abyss of agony.
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