Leather John shrugged. "Suits me. We're not afraid. Not afraid of the King's Champion, and not afraid of the king. All we want is an independent Isencroft."

"You won't get it from Curane, if that's what you're thinking."

"Who said anything about Curane?"

"That's who Ruggs is dealing with, isn't it? What'd he promise you? That if you keep Isen-croft tied up while Curane wins the throne in Margolan, he'll send Kiara and the baby back here and everything will be wrapped up with a bow?"

"What do you know about Curane?" Leather John's voice was dangerous.

Cam was too angry to worry. "Curane's got Jared's bastard son locked up in a keep on the Margolan plains. If Tris Drayke dies, that bastard becomes king of Margolan—with Curane as his regent. Jared wanted Isencroft all along. So will Curane—Isencroft and Margolan. He's just keeping you busy until it's too late."

"You're lying."

"Why else would Curane care about your rebellion? What's in it for him?"

"You're lying!" Leather John's voice rose a notch and he backhanded Cam hard enough that Cam's vision blurred.

"I've been to Margolan. I've seen what Jared's done to it. Towns looted. Farms burned. Whole villages hanged—"

"Shut up! Shut the hell up!" Leather John tore a strip from a feedback and gagged Cam with it. He was breathing hard and his eyes were wide. "No more lies."

Leather John turned to his men. "Send out the raiders tonight. Burn out anyone who gets in our way. Start with the Stray Dog Inn. Let's make sure Donelan gets our message." Leather John raised his sword. "Isencroft independ-"Isencroft Independent! Isencroft Independ-He jerked Cam by the hair to look at him. "The people don't want a joint kingdom. We don't want Margolan taking our women, polluting the blood. Curane understands about blood. He understands. Blood tells."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

"There's Truly no end to the people who've come," Carina exclaimed as she looked out at the courtyard of waiting patients. Old women, carried in carts or on the backs of men, women with difficult pregnancies, children with fevers, and wounds that would not heal. Despite her efforts, each new day lengthened the line of those who waited.

"They've come from several days' ride," Neirin observed. "Perhaps they fear that after the wedding next week, your priorities may shift to other concerns."

Carina smiled. "I doubt it. Jonmarc knew when he brought me here that healing was part of the bargain." A month had passed since Winterstide, and true to his oath, Jonmarc had set a date for a ritual wedding. After the disturbances at the holiday, Dark Haven had been quiet, falling into the slower rhythms of winter. Talk of the wedding captivated the gossips, and many of the people who came for healing wished Carina well or gave her a wedding blessing.

"It's the first time in a hundred years that the Lord of Dark Haven has taken a bride here at the manor," Neirin said, smiling. "Quite an honor for us. And an omen, perhaps, of brighter things to come."

"Right now, the only omen I want is to smell lunch cooking," Carina laughed. "It's just mid-morning, but I'm famished!"

"I'll have the kitchen send up something," Neirin promised. His attention was distracted by a noise near the doorway. A young man pushed through the crowd, still brushing snow from his heavy cloak. He made a low bow when he approached Carina.

"Greetings, Lady Vahanian."

Carina looked at the newcomer. He was slightly built, perhaps a few years younger than herself, with close-cropped reddish-blond hair and a patchy beard. His skin was reddened from the cold, and his cloak was wet with snow. "My name is Adon, from the village of Westormere. They sent me here to see if I could convince you to come back with me. There's a fever taken hold, a bad one. Our hedge witches tried, but they can't do nothing for it, and some of them took sick as well." He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "Please, m'lady, I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm afraid for my village. There were three dead just this morning. There's no one else who can put it right."

"How far away is Westormere?"

Adon raised his head. "Not a candlemark distant, m'lady."

Carina looked at Neirin. "I could be back before sundown. If it's plague, there's no time to waste."

"I'd feel better if Lord Vahanian rode with you. He's out in the fields. Please, m'lady, wait until he gets back. Go in the morning."

Carina looked at Adon. "How many in your village are sick?"

"Almost all, m'lady. My farm's on the very edge, that's why I was well enough to ride. There are about sixty people in the town, m'lady. Might be about a handful that aren't feverish. Please, m'lady. They'll die if you don't come."

Carina looked back to Neirin. "I need to go," she said. "Please, make the people here as comfortable as you can while they wait. I'll be back before sundown."

"Please, Carina, you must take guards with you. Lord Jonmarc would never forgive me if I let you go without protection."

"Fine with me—sounds like I'll have work for them to do when we get there."

Less than a candlemark later, Carina, Adon, and ten of Jonmarc's guards were on the road for Westormere. Bundled in Carina's saddlebags were enough herbs and poultices to treat a wide range of maladies. The snow was deep as a tall man's knees, and even on the road, it was higher than the horses' hocks. Nothing moved in the forest except hares flushed from cover by the sound of their approach.

Though it was not quite midday, no one was about in the streets. Shops were closed and no guard met them at the village edge. Carina heard the bleating of sheep and lowing of cattle unused to remaining all day in their pens, their keepers too ill to take them afield.

"Come with me, m'lady," Adon said, helping Carina down from her horse. "I can take you to the houses of those who are the sickest. Then we can set you up in the tavern great room, and the rest can come to you there. No one's about, so I doubt the tavern keeper will mind."

Carina pressed two of her guards into service carrying her saddle bags of medicines. Four went to patrol the town, and the other four remained close to Carina, walking two ahead and two behind. In this small village, Carina felt embarrassed by the guards' presence, but she knew Jonmarc would angry if she were to go without protection. He would be upset enough when he learned about the trip, she thought resignedly.

Adon knocked at the front door of the first house, a wattle and daub home next to the bakery. A faint groan answered them as they pushed the door open. It was cold inside. The fire had died down to embers, and Carina sent a guard to fetch wood and build up the fire once more. Adon helped her light the only two lamps in the building, and Carina sent another guard in search of lanterns. Huddled in bed were a woman and her two children.

"I'm a healer," Carina said with a smile, hoping to win the woman's trust. "I'm here to help."

The woman and her children were hot with fever, their skin flushed, and their hair matted with sweat.

"It's grippe," Carina said, leaning back once her examination was complete. "Worse than what I've seen up at the manor, but I can help." She beckoned for Adon. "I can't do this alone. For this much healing, I'll need to draw energy from other people. It doesn't hurt and it won't harm you—you'll be a little tired, that's all. Will you permit me to draw from you?"

She saw a flicker of fear in the young man's eyes, then he set his jaw. "Do what you must, m'lady. Most of this village is kin to me. Whatever I have is yours."

Within another half a candlemark, Carina had reduced her patients' fever. The guards, many of whom had seen her heal at Dark Haven, willingly took turns with Adon lending her strength. Carina instructed Adon to warm broth on the fire, and to spoon what their patients could swallow into their mouths to build up their strength. After a time, she sat back on her haunches, grateful for a cup of kerif one of the guards pressed into her hands.