Foxfire

THE SHOUTS SENT GRIANE’S HEART racing. Callie was already on his feet when Hircha appeared in the doorway.

Pausing just long enough to seize her healer’s bag, Griane hurried outside.

A crowd had already gathered in the center of the village. She pushed her way through, noting that every face bore the same sick expression as Hircha’s.

Madig lay in the dirt, wriggling like a worm. She suppressed a grimace at the stink of urine. Judging from the loosened drawstrings of his breeches, Madig had tried—and failed—to open them. His right arm and leg twitched convulsively, as if he was incapable of controlling them. The right side of his face looked frozen, but his good eye glared up at her.

“On the moor. To the south.” Rothisar winced. “He was trying to drag himself home.”

Madig shouted something out of the side of his mouth. She crouched beside him and grabbed his fist before he could pound the earth again. “Stop! You’ll only make it worse.”

Rothisar’s fingers moved in the sign to avert evil. Griane heard people muttering, “Possessed . . .” “A demon . . .”

“He’s not possessed,” Gortin declared. “A man in our old village had a similar attack. What was his name?”

Lisula’s nod was vehement, but the hand stroking Madig’s hair was as gentle as ever. “And he got better. In time. Just as you will. If you do what Mother Griane tells you.”

It was just a meaningless sound. Rigat would not have attacked Madig. And if he had witnessed the onset of this seizure, he would never have abandoned him on the moor.

She glared at the circle of gawking men. “Don’t leave him lying in the dirt! Carry him to his hut.”

With obvious reluctance, they obeyed. As she followed them toward his hut, she spied Madig’s daughters, huddled between Alada and Duba.

“It’s a strange sickness. Sometimes, it affects the way a man talks. And leaves half his body . . . asleep.”

To a child of ten, a sennight was a long time. Telling her that his recovery would require moons—perhaps years—was as good as telling her it would take forever.

“Soon. But the other man I knew with this sickness? He was like . . . like a little child at first, who had to learn to walk and talk again.”

For the first time, Colla looked at her. Thirty years as a healer had taught Griane that helplessness could be more debilitating than fear.

“You know it would shame him to have you see him when he’s so weak.”

“So it might be best for you and Blathi to stay with Alada and Duba. Just until he’s stronger. And while you’re there, I want you to make something. A little ball stuffed with grain that he can squeeze to strengthen his bad hand. Alada can help you sew the covering—”

“Good. But first, could you help Hircha make a tea for your father? We don’t know what he likes to drink—”

“You’ll need to gather some water mint at the stream. I’m not sure I have . . .”

“Put something in it to help him sleep,” Griane told Hircha in an undertone. “His bellowing will disturb the children.”

Griane arrived at Madig’s hut to find a crowd of people blocking the doorway. She shooed them out of her way and sidled past Othak.

Madig’s bellows had subsided to hoarse muttering and his movements had grown feebler. After a day and night on the moor, it was a wonder he had the strength to speak or move at all. Lisula crouched beside him, dribbling water into his twisted mouth. As Griane approached, Gortin paused in his prayers and glanced up.

“Here’s Mother Griane now. She’ll take good care of you. Just as she did old Dren. His recovery was remarkable. Of course, his speech was always a bit slurred and he dragged his right foot—”

“Thank you, Tree-Father,” Griane interrupted. “And all of you. But Madig needs to rest now.”

She marched to the doorway and held up the hide. Lisula flashed a worried smile as she ducked outside. Barasa simply looked relieved.

Certainly far more than having her stare at Madig with undisguised horror. Best that Barasa stick to prayer; in an earthly crisis, she was helpless.

“That’s because you were a child. And far more interested in hunting than in a sick old man.”

“I don’t know! And right now, I don’t care. The important thing is to keep him calm so he doesn’t have another attack.” Impatient with the crowd that continued to linger outside the hut, Griane called, “Please. Go home. Hircha and I will see to Madig.”

Instead, Callie stepped forward. And old Trath. In moments, she found herself confronted by all the tribal elders.

“Is his mind affected?” Trath’s voice was as brusque as ever, but unlike Rothisar, he had the sense to speak softly.

Griane stepped outside and let the deerskin fall. “I can’t tell,” she replied just as softly. “It might be moons before he can speak. Or walk.”

“We’ll have to summon the council,” Trath replied. “And choose someone to act as chief until he’s recovered.”

“You’re the one with the most experience,” Adinn pointed out. “Callie, Sion, and I are still too new.”

They all turned toward Sion, frowning. Lisula was the first to make sense of his terse comment. “Sion’s right. We need nine members on the council.”

“We could bring Hakiath back on,” Trath suggested. “He replaced Madig last time.”

“Fine!” Griane retorted in a fierce whisper. “Only have the decency not to choose a new chief within earshot of the current one.”

Othak raised the hide, but continued to block the doorway. “It’s strange. Madig being taken so suddenly.”

His pale eyes fastened on her face, like a hawk eyeing a rabbit. A shiver rippled down Griane’s spine.

The color of peat smoke, those eyes. Nay, the color of the lake—under a coating of ice. And his smile even colder.

She took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t know,” she repeated.

Callie nodded. It was not his way to press her. But it was past time for her to tell him the truth. If Othak was speculating about Madig’s seizure, others would, too. Sooner or later, someone would remember that Madig had left the village soon after Rigat. And then the questions would start, along with whispered exchanges about past incidents.

She took Callie’s arm and drew him away from the hut. “There are things you should know, Callie. About your brother.”