Chapter Twenty-Seven
They didn’t live in a world that offered many cheerful occasions.
It must have been close to midnight when Willa knocked on the door to the sacristy and entered.
Seraphina jolted awake, having dozed off with her head resting on her folded arms. She’d asked Rune to tell her about the lattices, where they were broken and how he planned to fix them, and he’d droned on about how he was pulling them apart first, stitch by stitch and shard by shard, until she fell asleep.
When the woman poked her head in, Rune pulled his cloak back over his head.
“It’s late,” Willa said. “You should eat something and sleep. I took your horses to the Black Eagle, and Peter’s sons have fed and watered them. Peter is the tavern owner. I told him about you two, and he said he has a room, if you want it. He’s also made you a hot meal.”
“All right,” Seraphina said, yawning. “Thank you.”
She got up and took her walking stick but didn’t hear Rune follow her lead. He was hunched over his work.
“You’ll continue tomorrow,” she told him.
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Many of the shards are cracked or rough around the edges. Some will need to be recut, others only filed.”
“I can help. Though I’ve never done it without seeing, but I can try.”
“You will?”
She gave him a smile. “It seems a shard technician is what you need, and I happen to be one, though I might be a little rusty. You’ll tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“All right.”
“Tomorrow, though. Now I’m so tired that I can barely think straight.”
Rune nodded and placed the shards he’d removed into the box.
“Does the door to the sacristy lock?” he asked Willa.
“It does.”
“I’d feel better if it were locked.”
Willa shrugged. “Barbara has the key. I’ll tell her. But no one comes in here, I swear. Bone shards and broken lattices aren’t valuable to anyone.”
“They hold power, still.”
“Maybe, but it’s not power we understand or know how to use. Come, I’ll take you to the Black Eagle.”
Seraphina and Rune followed Willa, who took them through the nave and out into the cold November air.
Snowflakes were swirling in the wind, and Seraphina felt them land on her cheeks.
She welcomed the fresh air, as freezing as it was, after hours spent in the confined space of the sacristy, and after smelling the odors of dying bodies as they’d crossed between the rows of hospital beds.
As soon as she saw the shape of the tavern, Seraphina felt her heart ache.
Her steps faltered, and she fell behind as Willa and Rune entered.
Rune held the door for her, and she had to push her grief aside.
He didn’t know what the Black Eagle meant to her, and she hadn’t yet decided if she was going to tell him or not. Inside, it smelled of boiled cabbage.
Peter, the tavern keeper, welcomed them and sat them at a table near the fire.
“The meal is meager,” he apologized. “We don’t have much left.
Our provisions are dwindling, and what with the war and the weather, harvest season was poor this year.
I’m not much of a cook, either. My wife would’ve done better.
I pray every day that God will return her health, so she can come back to me and our sons. ”
Seraphina murmured words of compassion, then she and Rune dug into their dinner. They were too famished to care that the cabbage soup was watery, the rye bread was stale, and the cabbage and oat pottage had no taste. The beer was good, at least. They couldn’t complain. They’d survived on less.
Halfway through the meal, Seraphina remembered that they still had food from the White Horse inn. The pouches the innkeeper’s wife had prepared had remained attached to their horses.
“Peter, are your sons still awake?”
“They are, Miss. Should I call them? Do you need anything?”
“Yes, please.”
Peter went out and called for them. He had to call a few times before they appeared from wherever they were, doing whatever they were doing.
Seraphina was surprised they weren’t in bed at such a late hour, but she supposed there was a lot of work to do when most of the people left in town were sick and had to be taken care of.
“This is Hans, and this is Kaspar,” Peter said, then quickly added more information, since Seraphina was blind. “Hans is eleven, and Kaspar is ten. They both have their mother’s brown hair and hazel eyes.” Seraphina saw Peter’s shadow ruffle the boys’ hair. “They also need haircuts.”
“Can you boys go to the stable and bring me the pouches that are attached to our horses’ bridles?” Seraphina said.
They nodded and ran through the front door, racing each other. Within minutes, they were back, and Seraphina took the two bundles from them, noticing with satisfaction that they hadn’t been tampered with. She untied them and spread their contents on the table.
“It isn’t much, but I was thinking maybe you’d like to share the little we have with Rune and me.”
Peter tried to refuse, but the boys looked at him pleadingly, and he relented.
They pulled up chairs, and for the next half hour, they ate together.
Peter told them about his wife and the boys’ mother, and that was how Seraphina and Rune learned that her name was Agatha and she’d been in the hospital for three days with high fever.
When they were done, Hans and Kaspar cleared the table while Peter led them upstairs, where his family’s chambers were.
Taverns didn’t have guest rooms, as they were establishments that usually served the town and acted as the place where people came to drink, eat, and have a good time after a long day of work.
The family running the tavern usually lived on the floor above, or in another wing of the building.
“Willa brought fresh bed linens,” Peter explained. “This is the boys’ room, so there are two beds.”
“And the boys?” Seraphina asked.
“Don’t worry about them. Hans and Kaspar will sleep with me while you’re here. Willa said you are a weaver,” he said to Rune, looking oddly up at him, trying to see underneath his hood.
“Yes,” Rune said. “And Seraphina is my shard technician.”
Peter clasped a hand over his mouth but recovered quickly. “What luck that you were passing through our town at such a dire time. Or maybe it isn’t luck, and God has finally turned his eyes toward us and is blessing us with his grace.” He crossed himself reverently.
“Indeed,” Seraphina murmured.
Peter bid them goodnight, and Seraphina and Rune found themselves alone in the small room.
There was a tiled stove against one of the walls, most likely connected to the stove in Peter’s room, from where he could feed the fire.
It was warm and the bed linens smelled fresh, and all Seraphina wanted was to collapse with her face in a pillow.
“Which bed do you prefer?” Rune asked. There was reluctance in his voice.
“I propose we push them together,” Seraphina said.
He laughed, and her stomach fluttered at how beautiful it sounded. She wanted to hear that laugh all the time. Unfortunately, they didn’t live in a world that offered many cheerful occasions.
As she fell asleep in his familiar arms, Seraphina’s mind drifted one last time to Matteo.
Was she betraying him and his memory? She hadn’t thought about it until now.
She found herself in a place where she’d been with Matteo before, and she was with another man.
She’d done things with this man. She liked this man, desired him, needed him.
She... loved this man?
Did Seraphina love Rune?
She wanted to say yes, but something held her back. She didn’t know what it was, she couldn’t define it. But it was there, at the back of her brain – a feeling or an intuitive nudge that told her to wait. Wait, because there was more to be revealed.
They woke up at the crack of dawn, wrapped around each other, legs and arms tangled. They stayed like that for a while, neither of them wanting to move.
“They are covered in purple bruises,” Rune said out of nowhere.
But it wasn’t out of nowhere, Seraphina realized. He must’ve been thinking about this since they’d arrived.
“All of them?” she asked.
“Yes. Willa’s neck is spotted purple, and it’s spreading to her face.
The boys, Hans and Kaspar, are looking better, but their father has spots on his neck, his hands and forehead.
Last night, I could see beads of sweat at the roots of his hair.
He didn’t say anything, but he was running a fever.
Barbara is bruised all over, there isn’t an inch of clear skin on her.
Katharina only has a few spots on her jaw.
I believe the younger ones have stronger bodies that are fighting the illness, but anyone who’s over forty doesn’t have long before they’ll need a bed. ”
Seraphina sat up. The room was chilly, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Then we should get to work.”
Rune tugged at the sleeve of her cotton shift.
“What if you get sick?” he asked. “What if you’re already sick, and the bone aches and fever will start? We didn’t know what we were walking into, but maybe we should’ve turned around when Willa warned us.”
“And leave these people to die? Too many have died already.”
“I know. I’m torn, too. But I’m scared for you, Seraphina.”
She took his hand in hers and smiled at him.
“You shouldn’t be. Don’t you remember what I told you?
When you have an implanted relic, it keeps your body healthy.
You cannot get sick. And if it’s an apex relic that’s implanted, it may even slow aging.
Not all relics behave the same, but since I’ve had Saint Vivia’s atlas vertebra in my eye socket, I’ve not been ill once. ”
“Oh. Yes, I remember now.”
“See, then? I’m safe. I’m more worried about you, to be honest.”
“About me?”
“Well, you don’t have an implanted relic, do you?”