The Dragon Nimbus Novels: Volume II

the room as he shook his finger at the man with broken teeth.
    “Maybe she’ll welcome another woman to keep him away from her after the ninth babe gets here.” Timmon’s drinking companion slapped him on the back laughing.
    “Never mind them, girl. It’s winter, and they’re bored ’cause they can’t get the boats out. If the wind dies down by dawn, they’ll be out all day and too tired tomorrow night to know their names, let alone bother you. Though with that pale hair and clear skin of yours, you’d best keep your distance from some of them. The quiet ones are the ones you gotta watch. The loud ones are more interested in hearing their own words than doing anything about it. You got a name, girl?”
    “Myrilandel, and my cat is Amaranth.” Myri followed her hostess along a winding path through the crowded trestle tables toward a curtain draped across the back of the chamber. No man touched her, though she passed quite close to some. Apparently the tavern mistress’ word was law here.
    “Karry they call me, though I was born Katareena, like my Ma and her Ma before her. Did I tell you that a’ready? Name goes back almost as old as this cave and the pub in it. Always been Katareenas here. Probably always will be. My own daughter has the name and the babe she carries will, too, if this one’s a girl. She’s got three boys already. But she’s carrying this one different. Hope it’s a girl. Need another Katareena to carry on the tradition.”
    “Is she having trouble with the babe?” Myri’s healing instincts awakened after weeks of dormancy. She hadn’t allowed herself to “feel” anything for the people she treated with herbs and simples along her journey.
    Suddenly this little village felt like home. They needed her. They’d welcomed her—after a fashion. Some villages begrudged her the bread and cheese they handed her and made her eat outside for fear of a stranger in their midst. Karry had invited her in. Granted she’d be expected to earn her keep. That was better than being denied admittance just because she was a stranger.
    She must have traveled far enough east and south for the wars to have remained a distant threat rather than an imminent peril.
    Is this the home you promised me? she asked the voices.
    No one answered, but the warm and comfortable feeling didn’t leave her.
    “Nothing much wrong with my Katey, but she’s carrying high and all in front. From the back she don’t look eight moons along. She’s tired all the time and her feet swell, but that isn’t unusual so close to her time, especially chasing three boys with more energy than sense.” Karry chuckled as she thrust aside a wall curtain to reveal a larger inner chamber that served as home and warehouse for the tavern.
    “Has the boil troubled you long?” Myri set Amaranth down on a barrel of ale. He sniffed the rim with grudging curiosity. When he was satisfied the barrel posed no threat, he jumped down and investigated the one beside it. He kept his wings safely hidden. He hadn’t flown since he tangled with Televarn’s fishing net. She hoped he’d healed, but she didn’t know for sure yet.
    “This boil started up as a little spot of rash going on two weeks ago. What you going to need, girl. Hot water? Mustard? Cobwebs for a bandage?”
    “Lie down and let me look at it first. Two weeks is a long time. I hope I don’t have to treat you for more than just the boil.”
    Karry heaved her bulk facedown on the pallet off to the right. She fumbled with the ties of her gown until she freed her left arm and breast. Her firmly muscled arm showed pale pink in the dim light. An angry red lump the size of Myri’s thumbnail glared at her from beneath the arm near the back. Red streaks were beginning to spread outward in a spiderweb of infection.
    Deftly, Myri prepared what she needed for the simple procedure. She cleaned her knife and the boil. Then a quick slash of her smallest, sharpest knife across the top and a second cut across it.
    Using the side of the knife to press against the eruption, she drained it, catching the pus in a clean cloth, until it bled freely, cleanly red and free of infection.
    Should she add a little of her own healing to keep it healthy? Not a full trance; that would make her lose control and drain her of too much energy. Just a touch to make sure all of the infection was gone.
    “Mbrtt,” Amaranth rubbed against her ankles. (Trust her. Help her with magic.)
    With her familiar leaning