Page 33 of Fallen
It made sense then that if a patient had a cough, one should keep their distance. These were the first cases in Torrin, and Coira wanted to stop the illness from spreading.
Emerging from the cottage, Coira found Sister Mina waiting with a heavyset man. The farmer was pale and wild-eyed, and he didn’t look at Coira, but past her, toward the open doorway.
“Where have yer kin been of late?” Coira asked, pulling the door shut behind her.
“My wife went to visit her sister a few days ago,” the farmer answered. “She lives in a village near Dunan.”
Coira frowned. This was what she’d been afraid of. Of course, folk traveled, and when they did, they inadvertently brought the sickness home with them.
“Can ye do anything for them, Sister?” The farmer asked, desperation in his voice now.
“I’ve made them as comfortable as I can,” she replied softly. But I’m afraid I can do nothing more for the moment.”
The farmer’s gaze guttered, his jaw clenching. “I feel so useless,” he ground the words out.
“Attend to yer wife and daughter,” Coira answered, “but do not venture into the village or have contact with the other folk here. Ye must ensure the sickness doesn’t spread. I will make sure food is brought to ye.”
The farmer stared at her, his gaze hardening. He didn’t want such advice. It didn’t help his plight; it only prevented others from falling ill. But that wouldn’t aid his wife and daughter, nor him if he was to sicken.
Coira swallowed. How she wanted to give assurances—to tell him she had all the answers. Her throat aching, she nodded to Sister Mina, indicating that they should go. She then glanced back at the farmer. “I will visit again tomorrow,” she promised.
Heart heavy, Coira started back in the direction of the abbey. The farmer’s cottage lay on the southern outskirts of Torrin, apart from the other houses. That was a good thing, for if they could isolate the sickness, perhaps they could halt its spread.
The weight in her chest only increased, however, as she followed the path through fields of kale. Coira had taken precautions when entering the cottage and been careful not to touch her patients directly. When she returned to the abbey, she would scrub her hands with lye soap, but there was still a chance she could fall sick too.
Coira set her jaw.I can’t … the people here need me.
Ironically, that was often the fate of healers—dying from the same illness as those they sought to heal.
Forcing herself not to dwell on that possibility, Coira glanced up at the darkening mackerel sky. It was growing late in the day. The afternoon was odd, without the slightest breath of a breeze to stir the humid air. She didn’t like this kind of weather; it put her on edge.
“Will they die?” Sister Mina asked finally, breaking the silence between them. They were halfway back to the abbey now, the high walls outlined against the sky.
“The odds are against them,” Coira admitted. “I will not lie to ye. And I fear that this is just the beginning of things.”
She glanced left at the novice, expecting to see fear upon her face. Yet Sister Mina’s gaze was steady, and although she was a little pale, she looked resolute. Not for the first time, Coira was pleased that she had Sister Mina to assist her. Panic wouldn’t do them any good now. She needed someone with a cool head at her side.
However, Sister Mina didn’t speak again, and Coira withdrew into her own thoughts. They continued in silence and, a short while later, re-entered the abbey.
To Coira’s surprise, she found the yard in front of the kirk filled with men and horses. Rough male voices and laughter echoed over the grounds, shattering Kilbride’s tranquility.
And then Coira saw that the warriors—for they carried claidheamh-mors at their sides—wore sashes of a familiar green and red plaid.
MacKinnon.
14
Breaking Bread
“THIS IS POOR man’s fare, Mother Shona.” MacKinnon’s voice rumbled across the table where the abbess and her senior nuns—Coira among them—ate quietly.
“I apologize for the frugality, MacKinnon,” the abbess replied, her voice toneless. “But we live simply at Kilbride … as the Lord would wish.”
“Aye … but ye have important guests.”
“If ye had sent word that ye were planning to stay at Kilbride, we would have made preparations,” Mother Shona replied gently.
MacKinnon snorted, and Coira started to sweat.
