Kirstie

The next three days were spent keeping Soren covered, wiping his sweaty brow, and feeding him soup. Inga came by every day for a visit and Mother Vrya also came on that first evening and brought all the medicine the Witcher Women had gleaned from nature over the centuries. Nothing much helped. Kirstie guessed Soren had a flu bug of some kind, and it would pass; but then again, such diseases could be serious, especially in the days before antibiotics and antivirals. She grew very concerned the evening his fever shot up and he complained that his ear hurt him.

It got late, and she had very little sleep. In her mind, she reached out into the future to Doctor Mishka, seeking advice and solace against Soren’s suffering.

“I could take a look.” Mishka’s voice spoke clearly in Kirstie’s mind. Kirstie decided that would be good. She had done this before, and she knew Mishka could do much more with her own eyes and hands than she could do by looking through Kirstie’s eyes. Kirstie settled herself. She traded places through time. She became Mishka, or rather Doctor Mishka came to take her place while Kirstie went to the place of waiting where she would stay for however long Mishka stayed in her time. “This won’t take long.” Mishka told her.

Mishka bent over Soren and did her best to look in his ear and throat. She called for the bag she kept at Avalon since ancient times, but it did not come. “I would have liked to give him some pain killer at least,” she said, and sneezed.

“I don’t know what the trouble is.” Kirstie spoke into the doctor’s mind.

“Something,” Mishka said and rubbed her watery eyes. “But it may only be that I have a bit of a virus right now, myself.” That did not sound right. Generally, when the Traveler traded places with one of her other lives, that life arrived in the prime of health and condition. Mishka looked once more at Soren. She suggested a certain bark and herb combination and instructed Kirstie in the method of distilling the product down to drops which should relieve some of the pain and pressure in Soren’s ear.

“That’s about all I can do without my bag,” Mishka said. “For the most part, the medicinal herbs of your Witcher Women are about as good as anything against a virus.” She sneezed again.

“Is this because he fell in the water?” Kirstie asked.

Mishka shook her head. “Triggered, maybe, but the virus must have already been in his system.” Mishka put a hand to her own head, and though she knew full well that she could not tell, she felt sure she had a fever of her own. Mishka traded places and Kirstie returned.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Kirstie said out loud as she set about making the ear drops. “Mishka should not have been sick,” she said to herself. “And the things I keep safe at Avalon should come to me when I call,” she added. Well, whatever the trouble was, it was a mystery that would have to wait. After Kirstie applied the drops, Soren seemed to fall into a more restful sleep. She curled up beside her boy to keep him warm. She quickly fell asleep herself and only woke in the morning when Inga touched her shoulder.

“Wake up, sleepy,” she said.

Kirstie sat up and rubbed her eyes. Normally, no one could sneak up on her like that, but her throat was dry and her eyes crusty. She wondered if perhaps she was catching Soren’s flu. That must be it, she decided. “Morning?”

“And a sail in the bay,” Inga added with a smile.

“Wilam?” Kirstie asked without a pause.

Inga nodded as Kirstie jumped out of bed and ran to the brass mirror. She looked frightful, and the brush could do little with her hair. She had not slept much in the last three days and now she needed some work to pull herself together. Inga looked first at Soren, sleeping peacefully, and then she helped brush some of the knots out of Kirstie’s hair.

“Go on,” Inga said at last. “Or he will be at the dock before you.” Kirstie looked again at her son, but Inga turned her toward the door. “I am sure Yrsa will come by in a little bit. Meanwhile, I think I can watch a sleeping boy just fine.”

Kirstie decided Inga was right. “Thank you,” she said, and she ran, before she walked. She did not want to appear too anxious.

Mother Vrya stood there on the dock, waiting patiently. Kirstie stopped beside the old woman. It would have been unseemly to run out ahead of her like a wild child. “Good morning,” Kirstie said, softly.

“See.” Mother Vrya said, pointing with her walking stick in the direction of the big house. The men were just coming, and there were strangers among them. It was only then that Kirstie noticed another, smaller ship had already docked. It flew the king’s flag and she looked at Mother Vrya with real curiosity on her face.

“You may recall, the one with the red hair is Lind,” the old woman said. “You may remember him from your youth. He is as smooth a talker as I have ever heard. And the dark-haired giant who trails in his steps is Gruden in case you have forgotten. He is as strong a right arm as you will find and clearly one who has killed men. They came here years ago looking for Elgar the Saxon.”

“I remember. Why are they here now?” Kirstie asked. They were the men who came after the trouble with the Vanlil.

Mother Vrya shrugged. “They are still looking for certain people,” she said. “The king heard about Lindisfarne, and he wants to know who was involved. They came here to begin the search starting here in Strindlos.”

“But that was four years ago.” Kirstie said. “Who can they be looking for?” She had a feeling that she knew who they were after, and it scared her a little. “They can’t still be looking for me.”

“How well I remember when the hag drove the Vanlil to invade our land,” Mother Vrya said. “That was more than ten years ago. You were a mere girl of ten. Your parents were slain along with many others in the attempt to defend our homes. I, myself, was crippled in that day. But then, Elgar the Saxon came to our aid, with Mother Greta of Dacia, the Doctor Mishka from the land of the Volga, and from whom I learned a great deal, and the others. These are whom they still seek, no matter what they say.” Mother Vrya concluded.

Those people were all Kirstie from other times and places, other lives she had lived or would live in the future. It felt right that she should ask. “But why would they be seeking them, especially after all these years?”

Mother Vrya shrugged again. “Who knows?” she said, flatly. “But do not be afraid, dear. No one will betray you.”

Kirstie looked again as the men came close. She did not share Mother Vrya’s confidence. Some in Strindlos would betray their own mothers if the price was right. She tried not to think about it. The ship from Northumbria started tying up, and Wilam had already jumped to the dock. He came quickly, as anxious as Kirstie, but Kirstie waited until Mother Vrya touched her hand in a kind of sign of permission, and then she met Wilam halfway. Her arms wrapped around him, and her head turned to lie against his chest. Wilam wrapped her up in his strength, and it was exactly what she needed. A tear fell from her eyes, but Wilam did not see.

They kissed.

“I missed you,” he said. Kirstie sensed his joy in the moment, and she knew he was terribly understating his feelings.

“I love you, too.” Kirstie spoke for both of them. “And right now, I need you.” She needed his arms, his care, his love, and she was reluctant to let him go, but the men were arriving. Wilam needed to renew other friendships.

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MONDAY

Kirstie is surprised by unexpected guests, but the people disappoint her. The guests are not treated well. Until Monday, Happy Reading

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