xviii. In which Charlotte goes after her brother, because no one else will #3
“Careful with that,” Elspeth said sharply. “Mind you keep it away from everything else.”
“There’s nowhere else to keep it, unless you’d like me to hold on to it the whole way through the forest.”
Elspeth scowled. “Well, keep it away from us. Already had a run-in with a sick wee beastie my first time through.”
Charlotte stowed the vial. “Is that where you got your scar?”
“Aye. A sparrowhawk come right at me—creepy-looking thing it was, all veiny like folks with the sickness, but parts of it
was see-through, too. I could see its skull in its head clear as day. Never seen anything like it. Never seen a sparrowhawk
fly right at a body and attack ’em, neither, but there it is. Wasn’t afraid of me at all. Like it’d got rabies, but I never
seen a bird with rabies afore.”
Charlotte shuddered but plucked at Elspeth’s sleeve. “Come here. I want another look at your scar.”
“Can’t wait to get this shirt off me, more like,” Elspeth said, but she obliged.
Ignoring that comment, Charlotte pulled Elspeth’s collar down as she had in the village on Thursday. The wound by her collarbone
wasn’t any worse, nor any better, pink and puckered with angry red edges.
But there was no sign of wood sickness.
“I don’t understand,” Charlotte murmured, running her fingers over the scar. Elspeth’s breath hitched, but she paid no heed.
“Understand what?”
Charlotte met her gaze. “You’ve seen the sickness. Takes on fast. Kills fast, as often as not. Maybe half the patients I’ve
seen with it have injuries like this—or not like this—all sorts of injuries. They could’ve been attacked, like you, but by
different animals. If the animals were infected, that could be how they contracted the sickness. But you don’t have it. And
this happened—when? About a week ago?”
Elspeth nodded.
“You should’ve already shown signs of infection,” Charlotte said, “based on what I’ve seen. But you haven’t.”
“Ain’t that unusual, is it?” Elspeth tugged her collar back into place. “Constitution of an ox. Plenty of times Gran or Granddad
or Maggie’s got the flu or suchlike, and I’ve never gotten it even after playing nursemaid for a week or more.”
“I suppose.” Charlotte rubbed between her eyes. Her headache wasn’t bad enough to lay her up for the day, thank God, but enough
to irritate her and make the day stretch out longer than it had any right to. “I suppose other villagers could have come back
with minor injuries but not fallen ill, and I’d know nothing about it. It’s so different from anything else I’ve seen. It
almost seems too much to hope that some people are simply immune. And I’ve not seen anyone with an injury behaving this way.
By now it either should’ve healed or become infected, but it hasn’t.”
“I’m alive at any rate.” Elspeth grinned. “You are a damn good healer, aren’t you?”
Charlotte flushed at the language but said mildly, “I try to be. On that note,” she added, as Elspeth helped her back into
the gig, “I’ve been wondering something. I doubt my being a healer is the talk of the village. My neighbors wouldn’t have
started spouting off at a stranger about what a great healer I am for no reason.”
Elspeth said nothing.
“I suspect you asked around about me,” Charlotte said.
Elspeth flushed. “Might’ve.”
“Why?”
Elspeth’s eyes flickered toward her. She bit her lip. Charlotte’s stomach dipped.
“When you give me that cap,” Elspeth said in a low voice, “I knew you were like me.”
Charlotte froze. “Like you . . . how?”
Elspeth opened her mouth, but Charlotte turned away, afraid of what she might say.
She thought of a young woman who had once pushed her up against the side of the church, the words the villagers had whispered about Arthur and Cormac, and the words they would’ve whispered about her if they’d known.
Kitty spitting out “that woman” like an insult.
“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Charlotte said in a shaking voice, “but whatever it is, you’re wrong.”
Elspeth’s brow furrowed. Charlotte trembled, her insides prickling with fear. Ever since she’d discovered this about herself,
she’d been afraid of anyone else finding out. Falling in love with John had been a relief; she’d thought she couldn’t be caught,
might even be cured, if she’d fallen so hard and fast for a man. Then there’d been that woman outside the church, and now
Elspeth, with her trousers and her history of running off with nuns.
“My mistake,” Elspeth said, making Charlotte at once relieved and regretful. “Kind of you, was all. To give me that cap. Warn
me about the villagers. That’s all.”
Charlotte’s chest heaved. Elspeth clambered back up beside her, careful to leave space between them, took the driving lines,
and clicked her tongue at the mule. Charlotte burned with shame and guilt.
Her only comfort was the continued presence of the wheel tracks, which made her feel hopeful of finding Arthur soon. Never
mind that Elspeth’s plan was to find the Lord of the Wood instead.
If Charlotte found Arthur first, she’d turn around and head right back to Seacliff, and Elspeth McIntire could do as she liked.