Warsworn

aid.
    "It will have to do. The quicker you leave, the quicker you will be done." Isdra looked at Epor, who shrugged. "We will do as much as we can before we lose the light."
    "Remember the phrases I taught you?" I followed them out the door.
    "Do not be afraid." Isdra spoke slowly in Xyian.
    "We will take you to a healer." Epor had the words down, but his accent was terrible. Still, it would work. I closed the door behind them.
    "I'm not leaving until I hear the bench." Isdra's voice floated through the door. Irritated, I dragged a bench over, and dropped it down in front of the door. "There."
    "We'll check the nearest buildings and return. Stay safe, Warprize." I'd already forgotten them as I hurried to my patient's side. No swellings, no boils. No signs of vomiting or flux. I wiped him down with damp cloth, and tried to get him to drink but it dribbled from the side of his mouth. He never roused as I examined him, and his strange lassitude disturbed me. Still, from all appearances, I was dealing with the Sweat. He wasn't coughing, although each of his breaths seemed an effort. I listened to it as I set my supplies in order, praying that I'd have enough to minister to those in need.
    Blankets, we'd need blankets. And something to eat, a broth if I could find something to make it from. Porridge, if nothing else. I should have said something to Isdra, so they'd look for them as well. There were no supplies to speak of here. I tried to relax, take a breath and ease the knot in my stomach. Once the villagers knew that a healer had arrived, we'd have help aplenty. A pounding at the door jerked me up. I let Isdra in, her arms filled with a squirming bundle, her face grim. "I found this one on the bed next to her thea." The blanket fell back to reveal a baby, squirming and fussing in the cloths. Isdra brushed past me. "Ward the door, Warprize."
    "Isn't Epor bringing her mother?" I looked out into the square. It was the silence that made me turn to look at her. Isdra had an odd, cold look in her eyes.
    "No."
    I bit my lip, and turned back to secure the door. By the time I entered the bedroom, Isdra had the babe by the fire, cushioned by the blankets, and was digging in her saddle bags. The baby was crying, kicking its feet in the air. "I've gurt here," Isdra said. "We can soften it in water and feed her. She's a mess, Warprize. Her thea must have been dead for hours." I knelt down, and smiled at the little one, checking her over. "There's no sign of fever in this one. Just hungry and unhappy."
    "Skies be thanked." Isdra started looking through the blanket. "I grabbed some extra swaddles." She pulled forth some clean diapers, and the few stalks of lavender fell to the floor. The babe opened its eyes and looked at us with sweet brown eyes framed by dark curling lashes. Then the little face squinched up and a howl filled the room.
    "What are those flowers?" Isdra asked as she started to work. "They are lovely."
    "Lavender. Her mother must have freshened her diapers with it." I cleared my throat. "I'm not sure gurt will be to her liking. Hopefully we can find a nursing mother among the other villagers."
    Isdra's voice was cold, even as her practiced hand worked to clean the child, a little girl. "I doubt there will be others, Lara." She made an odd clicking sound with her tongue, and the baby opened its eyes wide, staring at her. "We've been in half the buildings and this is the first we found someone alive."
    My throat closed. "No," I croaked. "Please, tell me it's not true." She kept her head down, focused on the babe, who grabbed at the end of her braid and bawled, kicking in the air. "They are dead in their beds, Warprize. Dead in the halls and doorways. Some are laid out, some died where they fell. Some for days, others just hours from the look of them."
    I sat there, numb, staring at the babe as it tugged at her hair, threatening to loosen the leather strip that held it. Dearest Goddess, the entire village?
    Isdra turned her head slightly, careful not to pull the braid from the babe's hands. "We need to feed her." She picked up the crying child and cradled her to her shoulder with both hands. She seemed to chant something under her breath, and her hands were gently tapping out a rhythm on the babe's back. The child hiccupped, and looked at me with wide eyes, tears clinging to her eyelashes.
    I smiled at the babe and reached for my baskets. "I
    have a feeding cup we can use. We can sweeten the gurt."
    "Trust me, Lara. This