said, gazing into the coals. “She’s abed sick, an’ the fire ain’t lit.”
He felt chill himself and thought to wrap the coverlet around Paisi, who let it fall.
“Paisi?” He closed Paisi’s hand on the cloth. “Take it.”
Paisi’s hand closed and he held on to it, still looking into the coals, shaking his head slowly. “I can’t see ’er, Otter. The cottage is dark, an’ the fire ain’t lit.”
“I dreamed, too, about the chimney being out. I dreamed it just now.”
“She’s fevered,” Paisi said. “She’s got the fever, she ain’t fed
’erself since yesterday.”
“What can we do, Paisi?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know what to do.” The note of unreasoning fear in Paisi’s voice would have sent a chill through him if none had been there to start with. “You dreamed it, too?”
“I dreamed about the chimney.”
“The fire,” Paisi said. “The fire not bein’ lit, in this weather—”
“We can tell the king!”
“About what, Otter-lad? Can we tell him we dreamed it? Can we talk about dreams wi’ these Quinalt priests hoverin’ near? She’s sick abed, is what. That damn chimney’s choked up again, and it never were right. I wanted to tear that crooked thing down this summer an’ build it anew, an’ she wouldn’t have it, no, no, the fields wants weedin’, the shed wants the door fixed, it ain’t no great matter, run a stick up it, and it’ll do, it’s always done. If the smoke don’t kill us in our sleep… Damn it, Otter-lad!” Paisi ran his hands through his hair so it stood on end. “Maybe I’m makin’ trouble that ain’t trouble. Maybe she’ll wake up and take one of ’er potions, won’t she? She’ll poke the broom handle up an’ unstick that chimney.”
“If she can reach it.”
“Oh, I was worri’t leavin’ her! We stacked that firewood high as she could deal with, but the rest in the shed, it’s all big pieces, an’ if her coughin’ starts up fierce…”
“Look, she can bring the animals inside. Remember the winter we did that. They’ll heat a room.”
“That don’t feed them. Or her.”
He drew a deep breath. “Paisi, it’s just three days back there.”
“It ain’t three days wi’ this storm.”
“But wouldn’t you go?”
“Aye,” Paisi said. “Aye. I would. I would. But she’ll skin me. I swore I’d watch over ye!”
“We could tell the king, all the same, and he’d keep secret how we knew. He was Lord Tristen’s friend. Wizard-work isn’t any surprise to him.”
“There is that.”
“He could just write a letter to Lord Crissand.”
“Oh, aye, and they’d take their time, and some soldiers would come out t’ th’ house an’ ask if she was well, and she’d swear she was well if she was dying.”
“Then go, go right this morning and see how she is, and fix the chimney. And then I’ll tell the king what’s happened, and I’ll come after, soon as I can.”
“No, now, me lord, don’t be foolish.”
“I’m not ‘my lord.’ ”
“Ye’re his son. The king give ye them fine clothes for holiday.
He’s got ’is mind set, is what. It’s what you got to do. I’ll go see to Gran, and you stay an’ do as ye have to.”
“And what will I do if Gran died?”
“Don’t say it!” Paisi said, and made a ward sign against the thought. “Oh, I should ’ave prepared better! I should ha’ fixed that damn chimney…”
“You did everything you could! We didn’t reckon with the snow just keeping on and on like this. We didn’t plan on Gran needing help, but you know what she says: some dreams are a warning, is all, and it’s what may happen, not what is happening.”
“Oh, aye, an’ I’ll walk in and she’ll curse me for a fool. But if it is a warning-dream, we’re summat ahead of it, ain’t we? But ye’re right. I’ll see to that chimney, then come on back, wi’ no delay.”
“You’ll get there before the Bryalt holidays start, as is. And if it’s nothing, Paisi, you
He felt chill himself and thought to wrap the coverlet around Paisi, who let it fall.
“Paisi?” He closed Paisi’s hand on the cloth. “Take it.”
Paisi’s hand closed and he held on to it, still looking into the coals, shaking his head slowly. “I can’t see ’er, Otter. The cottage is dark, an’ the fire ain’t lit.”
“I dreamed, too, about the chimney being out. I dreamed it just now.”
“She’s fevered,” Paisi said. “She’s got the fever, she ain’t fed
’erself since yesterday.”
“What can we do, Paisi?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know what to do.” The note of unreasoning fear in Paisi’s voice would have sent a chill through him if none had been there to start with. “You dreamed it, too?”
“I dreamed about the chimney.”
“The fire,” Paisi said. “The fire not bein’ lit, in this weather—”
“We can tell the king!”
“About what, Otter-lad? Can we tell him we dreamed it? Can we talk about dreams wi’ these Quinalt priests hoverin’ near? She’s sick abed, is what. That damn chimney’s choked up again, and it never were right. I wanted to tear that crooked thing down this summer an’ build it anew, an’ she wouldn’t have it, no, no, the fields wants weedin’, the shed wants the door fixed, it ain’t no great matter, run a stick up it, and it’ll do, it’s always done. If the smoke don’t kill us in our sleep… Damn it, Otter-lad!” Paisi ran his hands through his hair so it stood on end. “Maybe I’m makin’ trouble that ain’t trouble. Maybe she’ll wake up and take one of ’er potions, won’t she? She’ll poke the broom handle up an’ unstick that chimney.”
“If she can reach it.”
“Oh, I was worri’t leavin’ her! We stacked that firewood high as she could deal with, but the rest in the shed, it’s all big pieces, an’ if her coughin’ starts up fierce…”
“Look, she can bring the animals inside. Remember the winter we did that. They’ll heat a room.”
“That don’t feed them. Or her.”
He drew a deep breath. “Paisi, it’s just three days back there.”
“It ain’t three days wi’ this storm.”
“But wouldn’t you go?”
“Aye,” Paisi said. “Aye. I would. I would. But she’ll skin me. I swore I’d watch over ye!”
“We could tell the king, all the same, and he’d keep secret how we knew. He was Lord Tristen’s friend. Wizard-work isn’t any surprise to him.”
“There is that.”
“He could just write a letter to Lord Crissand.”
“Oh, aye, and they’d take their time, and some soldiers would come out t’ th’ house an’ ask if she was well, and she’d swear she was well if she was dying.”
“Then go, go right this morning and see how she is, and fix the chimney. And then I’ll tell the king what’s happened, and I’ll come after, soon as I can.”
“No, now, me lord, don’t be foolish.”
“I’m not ‘my lord.’ ”
“Ye’re his son. The king give ye them fine clothes for holiday.
He’s got ’is mind set, is what. It’s what you got to do. I’ll go see to Gran, and you stay an’ do as ye have to.”
“And what will I do if Gran died?”
“Don’t say it!” Paisi said, and made a ward sign against the thought. “Oh, I should ’ave prepared better! I should ha’ fixed that damn chimney…”
“You did everything you could! We didn’t reckon with the snow just keeping on and on like this. We didn’t plan on Gran needing help, but you know what she says: some dreams are a warning, is all, and it’s what may happen, not what is happening.”
“Oh, aye, an’ I’ll walk in and she’ll curse me for a fool. But if it is a warning-dream, we’re summat ahead of it, ain’t we? But ye’re right. I’ll see to that chimney, then come on back, wi’ no delay.”
“You’ll get there before the Bryalt holidays start, as is. And if it’s nothing, Paisi, you
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