She told her heart to be still, and the lump in her throat to go away. Neither obeyed her.
Tonno had taken a chill when he'd been caught between the market and his shop three weeks ago, on the day of the great blizzard, and it had taken him hours to stumble back home. The blizzard had piled some of the city streets so deeply with snow that people were coming and going from the second-floor windows of some places, although that was not the case with Amber's or with Tonno's shop. Rune had been busy with helping to shovel once the storm was over, and it had taken her two days to get to him. By then, the damage was done. He was sick, and getting sicker.
She had gone out every day to the Church since then, to the Priests who sent out Doctors to those who had none of their own. Each day she had been turned away by the Priest in charge, who had consulted a list, told her brusquely that there were those with more need than Tonno, and then ignored her further protests. Finally, today, one of the other women in line had explained this cryptic statement to her.
"Your master's old, boy," the woman had whispered. "He's old, he's never been one for making more than the tithe to the Church, no doubt, and he's got no kin to inherit. And likely, he's not rich enough to be worth much of a thanks-gift if a Doctor came out and made him well. They figure, if he dies, the Church gets at least half his goods, if not all-and if he lives, it's God's will."
That had infuriated and frightened her; it was obvious that she was never going to get any help for Tonno-and when she'd arrived today, he'd been half delirious with a fever. She'd sent a boy to get Maddie to come watch him while she went after a Doctor-again. And this time, by all that was holy, she was not going to return without one.
She had been in and out of the cloister enough to know who came and went by all the little gates; one lesson the Brothers had never expected her to learn, doubtless. She knew where the Doctors' Gate was, and she was going to wait by it until she spotted one of the physician-Brothers. They were easy enough to pick out, by the black robe they wore instead of gray, and by the box of medicines they always carried. When she saw a Doctor, or could get one to answer the bell, she was going to take him to Tonno-by force, if need be.
Her throat constricted again, and she fought a stinging in her eyes. Crying was not going to help him. Only a Doctor could do that, and a Doctor was what she was waiting for. She tried not to think about what he'd looked like when she left him; transparent, thin, and old-so frail, as if a thought would blow him away.
She stopped her pacing along enough to cough; like everyone else, it seemed, she'd picked up a cold in the past two weeks. She hadn't paid it much attention. Beside Tonno's illness, it was hardly more serious than a splinter. As she straightened up, she heard the sound of feet approaching; hard soles slapping wearily on the stonework. The Church certainly didn't lack hands to see that the streets about the cathedral and the cloisters were shoveled clean. . . .
She turned; approaching from a side street to her left was a man in the black robe of a Church Doctor, laden with one of those black-leather-covered boxes. He walked with his head down so that she couldn't see his face, watching his step on the icy cobbles.
She hurried to intercept him, her heart right up in her throat and pounding so loudly she could hardly hear herself speak.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, trotting along beside him, then putting herself squarely in his path when he wouldn't stop. She held out her empty, mittened hands to him, and tried to put all the terror and pleading she felt into her face and voice. "Excuse me-my master's sick, he's got a fever, a dry fever and a dry cough that won't stop, he's been sick ever since the blizzard and I've been here every day but the Priest won't send anybody, he says there's people with greater need, but my master's an old man and he's having hallucinations-" She was gabbling it all out as fast as she could, hoping to get him to listen to her before he brushed her aside. He frowned at her when she made him stop, and frowned even harder when she began to talk-he put out a hand to move her away from his path-
But then he blinked, as if what she had said had finally penetrated his preoccupation, and stayed his hand. "A fever? With visions, you say?" She nodded. "And a dry, racking cough that won't stop?" She nodded again, harder. If he recognized the symptoms, sure, surely he knew the cure!
He swore-and for the first time in months of living at Amber's, she was shocked. Not at the oath; she'd heard enough like it from the carters and other rough laborers who visited some of the other Houses on the street. That a Brother should utter a hair-scorching oath like that-that was what shocked her. But it seemed that this was no ordinary Brother.
His face hardened with anger, and his eyes grew black. "An old man with pneumonia, lying untreated for two weeks-and instead of taking care of him, they send me out to tend a brat with a bellyache from too many sweets-" He swore again, an oath stronger than the first. "Show me your master, lad, and be hanged to Father Genner. Bellyache my ass!"
Rune hurried down the street towards Tonno's with the Brother keeping pace beside her, despite the hindering skirts of his robe. "I'm Brother Anders," he said, trotting next to her and not even breathing hard. "Tell me more about your master's illness."
She did, everything she could recall, casting sideways glances at the Brother as she did so. He was a large man, black-bearded and black-haired; he made her think of a bear. But his eyes, now that he wasn't frowning, were kind. He listened carefully to everything she said, but his expression grew graver and graver with each symptom. And her heart sank every time his expression changed.
"He's not in good shape, lad," the Brother said at last. "I won't lie to you. If I'd seen him a week ago-or better, when he first fell ill-"
"I came then," she protested angrily, forcing away tears with the heat of her outrage. "I came every day! The Priest kept telling me that there were others with more need, and turning me away!" She wanted to tell him the rest, what the old woman had told her-but something stopped her. This was a Brother, after all, tied to the Church. If she maligned the Church, he might not help her.
"And I simply go where the Priests tell me," Brother Anders replied, as angry as she was. "Father Genner didn't see fit to mention this case to any of us! Well, there's going to be someone answering for this! I took my vows to tend to all the sick, not just fat merchants with deep pockets, and their spoiled children who have nothing wrong that a little less coddling and cosseting wouldn't cure!"
There didn't seem to be anything more to add to that, so Rune saved her breath for running, speeding up the pace, and hoping that, despite Brother Anders' words, things were not as grave as they seemed. But she was fighting back tears with every step. And the old woman's words kept echoing in her head. If the Church wanted Tonno to die, what hope did she have of saving him?
But this Brother seemed capable, and caring. He was angry that the Priests hadn't sent him to Tonno before this. He would do everything in his power to help, just for that reason alone, she was certain.
After all, many Doctors probably exaggerated the state of an illness, to seem more skilled when the patient recovered-didn't they?
She had left the door unlocked when she went out; it was still unlocked. She pushed it open and motioned to the Brother to follow her through the dark, cold, narrow shop.
Maddie looked up when Rune came through the curtain. "Rune, he's getting worse," she said worriedly. "He doesn't know who I am, he thinks it's summer and he keeps pushing off the blankets as fast as I put them back-" Then she saw the Brother, as he looked up, for his black robe had hidden him in the shadows. "Oh!" she exclaimed with relief. "You got a Doctor to come!"