Chapter 27

She was worried about Avern. She was worried about everyone, herself included, but there was a separate, more personal worry for Avern. She hoped that Lynna really was alright as Syred had said. She knew him at least as well as anyone else did, perhaps somewhat better, and she could tell there was more he was not saying.

That had been half an hour already. He would be there by now, and by now he would know whatever it was. But for now she had a moment to collect herself. A moment of quiet. A moment of sanity. Her inn had never felt so over-busy before.

First there had been the cat that had jumped off a shelf and started biting one of the girls. Then there had been the fight when one of the men had gotten out of hand. And there had been the near-brawl when one girl fell asleep. She had downplayed it to Avern, but her inn was falling apart around her. And everyone says tomorrow is going to be worse...Or is it tomorrow already? She looked out the window, once again hoping to see just a hint of daylight. She sighed, disappointed but not surprised.

The knife wound in her side had been minor. It was only a table knife, and hadn't gotten deep enough to do any real damage. She had spent all that time with Avern half-panicked that he'd put his hand in the wrong place and come back with blood.

She took off her blouse and corset and threw them both into a corner in frustration. If this was going to continue she was going to run out of clothes to wear. At this point she really did not want to borrow something just to have to return it ruined. She got out the roll of bandage cloth that she kept in her dressing table and prepared a cloth to clean the wound. It did hurt her every time she turned, and she sighed again.

She sat down on the edge of the bed while she wiped the wound clean, having to scrub a little at the areas where the blood had begun to dry. She winced and swore as fresh blood oozed more freely from the wound before she was able to get some bandages over it and start rolling more around herself to keep it in place.

Perhaps when this is all over I'll ask Lynna to heal this, she thought to herself. I'm certainly not going to trouble that poor girl over something so trivial right now though. She didn't think the small wound would actually need stitches, so she wasn't about to trouble Margaret with it either.

She moved to the dresser and pulled another corset from the drawer. She frowned at it, having not worn it since before she had come here. She wasn't sure if it would fit, and it was the type of thing she'd normally have worn to impress a customer. She realized that it was exactly the type of thing that she wouldn't want Avern to see her in, or he would see her as nothing more than a whore. She frowned and stuffed it deep into one of the lower drawers.

I suppose the red color would soak up the bloodstains well, but I think I'd better resort to borrowing before I risk being seen in that! She rummaged further and came up with a couple more options, and picked the more demure of the two. She switched the skirt out with a dress instead, choosing one of the ones she generally reserved for the colder season when they rarely had customers. Perhaps this will discourage a few of them, she sighed as she pulled buttons through their corresponding buttonholes. Another thing Mary hadn't mentioned to Avern was that her behind was bruised and sore from men grabbing it when they thought she was distracted. She was surprised at how many of them were men who lived here in town and she knew to be married. She'd been taking mental notes on each of them, and had been carefully avoiding some of the worst offenders. She was starting to get a feel for which wives weren't giving their husbands enough attention in the bedroom.

The dress was high-necked, but had a diamond-shaped cutout across the front that still showed off a measure of her cleavage. Out of habit, she adjusted it to show a little more before reconsidering. She grabbed up a scarf and tied it loose about her neck with the ends hanging down to cover the area some instead. After adjusting her hair again, and giving herself a nod of approval in the mirror, she took a deep breath and headed back downstairs.

She made her way to the kitchen first, securing herself another cup of cold tea. Genla had started making tea when they had run out of coffee, and Mary taken to drinking it regularly to keep herself going. She felt some of her strength returning, but she still felt exhausted and knew that she would end up alseep on her feet if she didn't give herself an edge.

She took the cup and walked the halls of the inn, noting that things seemed to have calmed down for the moment. People sat in clusters, talking quietly amongst themselves, and only a few conversations halted at her approach. She had spoken with her girls and told them not to take any more clients for now, after the one man had gotten too rough, and she had filled the rooms usually reserved for such activities with the people who had survived the warehouse fire.

She managed to make a tour of the whole inn without incident or getting pinched, and she counted herself very lucky. She headed out the back door and stood on the step for a moment, breathing in the fresh air while she sipped at her tea. The wind howled and beat against the trees and walls as it moved. Mary found her attention drawn by the door to the shed, which banged open and closed almost seeming angry in the wind. She was wondering if Marcus had forgotten to close it or if someone had gone in there, when a woman's screams suddenly pierced the air, coming from the shed. Mary quickly set the teacup on a barrel and ran towards the shed, yelling back at the house for Marcus as she did.

She had to pull the door of the shed open again, and it seemed as if the wind was trying to keep her from getting inside. The screaming had stopped by the time she had managed to get it open. She stepped into the doorway and stood, frozen in shock for a moment at the scene in front of her.

There were three men in the shed, and a girl she recognized as the older daughter of one of the families currently taking refuge at the inn. The girl's eyes were wide open and expressionless as she lay dead on the ground. Two of the men were still holding her down while the third had his pants around his knees as he grunted like an animal, raping her still-warm body. There were several long slashes down her body, where they had cut deep to get her dress out of the way, and one of them had left what looked like one of Genla's sharp butchering knife deep in the girl's chest. The other two still held knives of their own, and the looked at Mary with the expressions of starving animals. Mary turned back towards the inn to run, and slammed straight into Jacob Bentz.

"You're not going anywhere, whore," he told her, grabbing the ends of the scarf around her neck with his hands and pulling it tight around her throat.

She tried to fight against him but he was impossibly strong. She tried to scream but she could not breathe.

She saw a heavy timber hit him on the back of the head with a loud crunching noise. Then she could see that Marcus had come. Bentz, appearing unfazed, kept one hand holding the scarf and turned to face Marcus. She beat at the one arm still holding her, but it made no difference.

Marcus swung the timber again. Bentz caught it with his free hand and pulled it out of Marcus' two strong hands as if he were pulling a toy from a distracted baby. Marcus was pulled off balance by it and fell to one knee.

Mary tried the only thing she could think of. She threw herself at the ground, hoping the sudden jerk would pull the scarf out of Bentz's grip. The scarf ripped and she fell heavily to the ground. For a moment it was all she could do to get her wind back.

Jacob Bentz swung the timber at Marcus with a wide underhand stroke that took him across the chest. It lifted him off the ground and he landed flat on his back. Jacob dropped the timber and turned to Mary just as she was getting to her feet.

"No, whore, I'm not done with you."

Mary tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her dress. Marcus stood up again and grabbed the timber. Bentz must have seen it in her face because he turned in time to catch the timber again. He let go of Mary and swung at Marcus again. This time Marcus barely evaded the swing.

Mary's eyes fell on the axe still lying on the ground near the fire ring. Normally she would have cursed it being left there carelessly. Now she wondered which god she should be thanking. She ran over and grabbed it up. She pulled it back and charged.

She saw the timber swing and hit Marcus in the side of the head the same time she sank the axe completely in Bentz's back. Marcus was knocked off his feet by the blow. Bentz turned abruptly and the axe handle broke. Bentz looked down at the jagged end and grinned at her.

Mary stood there for a moment in shock, watching at Bentz reached behind his shoulder and pulled the blade out of his back.

"You want to play rough, bitch? I can play rough."

She turned to run, her heart frozen in terror. She only managed to get a couple of steps before he threw the heavy blade at her, hitting her in the back of the leg with the blunted end. She felt bone break in her leg and fell face-first into the dirt. The broken end of axe handle slipped from her hand and went skittering across the dirt, out of her reach. She quickly got to her knees and started trying to crawl away, despite the pain ripping through her leg every time she moved it. Bentz's foot came down hard on her back and all the air rushed out of her as he forced her back down into the dirt.

He shifted quickly, bringing his knee down onto her back instead, and she gasped for air breathing in dirt with it and sending her into a coughing fit. He grabbed hold of her head and shoved it into the dirt, twisting and slamming it back and forth and up and down until her nose broke and the ground was stained with her blood. He pulled her head back by her hair and looked down at her, with a terrible excitement in his eyes.

"Oh, that's right. You probably prefer to be on your back." He grabbed her by the dress and scarf and hauled her over onto her back, slamming his knee down into the side of her chest. She felt ribs crack under his knee. She reached up and clawed desperately at his face with her fingernails. He seemed undisturbed by the long gashes she made down his cheeks in the process. He had one hand holding the scarf taut so she struggled for every breath. The other hand had picked up the axe blade and raised it over her.

He brought the heavy piece of metal down, blunted end first, onto the side of her face. Her ears rang, and her vision was blurred and spinning. She brought her hands back, to fend off the next blow, and she felt the delicate bones in her fingers snap with the impact. His grip on the scarf slipped, and she managed to pull further away from him, pushing away from him with her good leg. He grabbed her by the front of her dress and the sounds of fabric tearing mixed in with the roar of the wind around them. It almost seemed as if the wind was calling her names as well. She fumbled with the scarf, trying to untie it, but it was slippery with her blood. He brought the axe up, looking to bring the blade down on her next, and she rolled quickly to one side and scrambled to her knees, crawling away again.

She looked back to see Marcus coming up behind him, one side of his face a bloodied mess. She saw him carrying one of the long blades he used to trim grasses around the yard. He swung it towards Bentz's neck. Bentz somehow knew he was coming, and turned. Mary saw him bring the axe blade down into Marcus's chest just as Marcus lodged the blade deep into Bentz's throat. This time Bentz noticed the wound, and let go of the axe blade to grab the handle and pull it free of his neck.

"NO!" his scream came out gurgled and he was spitting blood. Marcus had fallen to the ground again, and Bentz turned and slashed at him repeatedly with the blade, until he suddenly fell to the ground, spasming wildly.

Behind him, the three men from the shed suddenly advanced, knives in hand. The one who'd been raping the girl still had his pants around his ankles, and all three were making low noises like animals might. They were on her in moments, pushing her back down to the ground and tearing at her clothing like starved animals, grunting and panting. Their eyes were a dark gray - almost black - instead of red. She screamed and struggled as she felt them cutting into her as they sliced her corset open. One of them leaned down and bit her on the cheek, while another sunk his teeth deep into one of her now-bared breasts. The third was slashing at her abdomen and legs, trying to get the fabric out of his way.

Then suddenly there were people everywhere, pulling the men off of her, taking their knives, and binding them with rope. She sobbed and screamed in pain as hands gently touched her and tried to help stop the bleeding.

"You there! Pick her up! You look strong enough! We'll have to take her over to the Surf and Sleep," she heard Genla's voice giving directions as she felt herself covered with a blanket and picked up off the ground. She grit her teeth, trying not to scream while broken bones were jostled about. For the second time that day she focused herself purely on staying awake, thankful for all the tea she'd been drinking.

The trip to the Surf and Sleep seemed to take hours and yet no time at all. She was aware of the near running pace they made, as well as the fact that several people accompanied whomever carried her. Her vision was still blurry, and she was feeling nausea mixed in with the pain. She could taste blood in her mouth, and she wondered if it was from her face and nose or something worse from inside. She concentrated on breathing. Her throat was sore, both from screaming and Bentz's attempts to strangle her. Despite her best efforts, she was aware of making a low, moaning sound for the entire journey.

She was able to tell when they arrived by the sudden brightness to the blurry world around her, and the voices rose in volume and quantity.

She heard people asking questions, but she didn't really hear the questions or the answers. Someone set her down on something. She tried to identify the faces around her, but she couldn't recognize them. Somewhere there was a child crying. She wondered where the child's mother was.

She could tell some of the voices were talking about someone badly hurt. It was obvious to her that they meant Marcus. She was relieved that he was only badly hurt and not dead, although someone was asking if it was going to be too late. No, Lynna will heal him and everything'll be fine.

She asked for water for the weird taste in her mouth, but nobody responded to her. They're all busy worried about whoever it was that got hurt. I hope they'll be alright. She thought if only she could sit up she could clear her head. This is why I don't drink, she reminded herself. She didn't remember doing it, but she must have had too much to drink. That wasn't like her, so she was confused.

Someone was looking down at her, but she couldn't tell who. He reached down and touched her, and his hands were warm. The warmth flowed through her like soup on a winter's day. It felt good at first, but it grew until it wasn't a comforting warmth any more. She felt like she was burning, and she did not like it.

And then abruptly it ended. She could see clearly. There was a bald man sitting on the bed next to her. There was something familiar about him.

"She has been very badly hurt. I have healed the physical damage, but it may take a little bit for her mind to make some of the connections again. She may have some memory problems for a while," he explained to someone. She also heard something about a reminder to keep her awake. That only served to remind her how tired she was. Why couldn't she go to sleep for a while, she wondered.

She hadn't realized that she'd asked it aloud until the bald man turned and spoke to her directly.

"It will all come back to you shortly, Mary." He patted her arm and gave her a weak smile. He looked tired, with dark circles growing under his eyes. She sat up, suddenly remembering his name.

"Agmar," she said. He nodded at her in response.

"Mary, I..." Another man was sitting next to her, and she looked over to him as he spoke. He too had dark circles under his eyes, and worry lines wrinkling his forehead. She knew him immediately and buried herself in his outstretched arms as memories of recent events started flooding back, making her head hurt and sobs bubble up to the surface. Avern held her tightly and she wished they could just stay that way forever. Eventually, she had to pull back to find out an answer to the question that sat like a rock in her stomach. She looked around the room first, hoping to find the answer there, but ended up having to ask the couple of men who she recognized as having been staying at her inn.

"Marcus? Is Marcus alright? He took some awful wounds. Is he...?" she let the question trail off as they both started shaking their head at her.

"I'm sorry Lady Mary," one of them answered. "I don't know if it was the hit to the head he took or the axe... He didn't make it." He bowed his head respectfully.

Mary's hand went to her mouth, and fresh tears found their way down her cheeks. Not Marcus! Oh, please, not Marcus! He's been my rock over the years. He's always there to help when Genla and I need it. He watches over the girls as if he thought of them as errant neices. He's been such a friend for so long! She buried herself in Avern's chest again. I just want to sleep. I want to wake up and find that this has all just been some horrible dream...

She realized, however, that she didn't want all of it to have been a dream. She could feel Avern's hand, gently rubbing her back. A part of her didn't want to lose that. She pulled away, feeling guilty.

"I'm sorry. He saved my life. He was such a good man. He shouldn't... Oh, gods, Bentz wanted me dead, not him. It's all my fault." She pulled the blanket around her and turned away from Avern, curling herself into a ball and sobbing into the soft fabric.

Avern stayed and rubbed her shoulders gently. She appreciated the reminder that he was still there, but did wish she could be alone for just a moment. But she knew he meant well. Understanding women was never one of his greater strengths, but he was trying.

Eventually she felt ready to continue. She looked around the room. She was the only patient, which all things considered seemed unlikely. They were in one of the studies. There were six beds, and nobody was in them. Either Agmar and Lynna had been awfully busy healing people, or...

"So is everyone healed then? You know, all these beds are empty. The way things have been going lately I expected to see hurt people all over the place."

"There are several not completely healed," Agmar answered. Avern turned and looked at him, looking like he had questions as well. The big bearded man at Agmar's side took a casual step back, almost as if he was avoiding attention.

"Unfortunately beds can be comfortable to people who have not had sleep since before yesterday. Some have fallen asleep and have had to be bound."

"It's hard explaining to some people that if they want to go to sleep they can, on the condition that they be tied down. A couple of people have actually gone that route," Avern commented. "A few have been honest enough to admit they were not going to be able to keep themselves awake. It didn't seem like a good idea to be treating injured people in the same room with bound, potentially possessed and struggling people."

"I'm suprised not to see Margaret here," she said, suddenly realizing who was missing from the usual crowd as of late.

"She's one of them," Avern replied. "Bentz was here before he reached you. He apparently beat the hell out of Margaret with lead pipe or something. Agmar healed her, but she passed out before it was over. Elsa's watching over her, but the girl is a wreck at this point, so a surgeon off one of the ships has pretty much taken over the general triage."

Mary felt faint. "I thought he was just out for me..."

"I do not think Jacob Bentz is entirely in control any more," Agmar said quietly. "He has some latent anger towards certain people in town, for whatever reasons, and the evil is playing on that. Bentz is, in effect, allowing the evil to help him get some sort of twisted revenge on anyone who has gotten in his way at any point. In the process, the evil has helped skew that anger into a more developed, purer hatred. His conscience has been overridden. Although it sounds as if we have seen the last of him, based on what I just heard about what happened at your inn."

"I put an axe blade deep into his back and he acted as if it hadn't even happened. It wasn't until Marcus cut his throat open that he fell," she explained.

"I believe the evil was keeping him from feeling physical pain."

"What about the other three? Their eyes weren't red at all, they were nearly black instead?!"

"I think there is more than one way for the evil to control a person. It is far more intelligent and cunning than I had believed. Whatever this force is, it is awake and believes it can gain its freedom if it causes enough fear and anger or hatred. These emotions are strengthening it, and it is using that strength to create more. Probably in the hopes of hitting a peak where it can break free from the spell that binds it."

"Then perhaps you should find a way to strengthen the spell binding it, before we're all dead," Avern said, narrowing his eyes at Agmar. Mary could hear a bitterness in his voice. She sat back up and put her hand on his arm.

"Avern?" she asked him. "What's happened?"

"It had control over Lynna for a while. She thought she had watched herself burn Stott alive, and she did kill another woman. She took a fire poker to Mrs. Litner. And while it had her, she was trying to fight it off and this evil thing hurt her. It's painful for her to use magic right now. What Agmar is unwilling to tell me outright is that I nearly lost my daughter after he told me he would protect her."

"I HAVE been!" Agmar's voice boomed in the small room, and his eyes flashed angrily. "What you do not know, Mayor, is that since I was stabbed in the back I have been unable to walk on my own. I've had to divert a considerable amount of energy to just give the appearance of being intact. I expect it might shatter morale a bit if I were to have be carried around to each crisis. There is only one of me, Avern. I cannot be everywhere at once, no matter how hard I am desperately trying to do so!"

"Lynna healed your back..." Avern began.

"She did," Agmar interrupted him. "However, there are things that the mind will not be forced into, and the area that was healed is still fragile and new. My body needs rest in order to finish, and my mind needs time to know that the connection to my legs, along with a few other functions of my body, has been renewed. I can speed the process, but there are just certain things that no magic can force the body to do!"

"Avern," he said, seeming to calm down a little, "I never promised I could protect everyone. I never promised that I could keep your daughter safe. I said I would do what I could, and I have been. But as you of all people should be able to attest, wizards are people like everyone else."

Avern stuttered for a moment, obviously at a loss for something to argue back with. Mary was relieved that the tone of Agmar's voice had calmed dramatically. She still was not entirely unsure that he was immune to the evil's well-demonstrated ability to push people past their normal limits.

"Dammit, Agmar," Avern eventually said.

"This cannot be easy for you, Mister Avern," the bearded man said. Who is he? Mary wondered. "Most fathers 'ere have enough ta be doin' bein' fathers an' husbands. But ye've been busy wit' other duies as well. From what I've seen ye've done a right good job of it, too."

"Thank you, Yilmack, is it?"

"Aye, 'tis."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw people at the open door peering in. Then she noticed the state of her clothes, and she pulled the torn dress around her with a loud sigh. Someone at the door shifted and with a glance from Agmar the door closed.

"I hate to say this," she piped up, "but is there any chance I could borrow something to wear? It had better not be something anyone cares for much, 'cause at this rate I'm sure it won't make it through the day."

The men looked at each other, as if each expected the other to suddenly pull an outfit out of their pocket. Avern cleared his throat.

"I'll see about having someone fetch you something from your inn, if that would be alright?" He seemed lost for other solutions and she chuckled slightly at the look of confoundment on his face.

"That would be fine, Avern. Thank you," she reassured him. "I'm sure Genla can pick something out for me. In the meantime, some cold tea would be nice, if you have any here, and some company to help keep me awake while the two of you are out saving the rest of the townsfolk." She kept her voice light and gave Avern a smile. Agmar got to his feet, although Mary realized now that he did so with a stiffness, keeping his back very straight.

"I will have Lynna and Stott stay here with you for now," Agmar said. "Lynna should try and focus on staying calm, and should not, under any circumstance, use magic. It will hurt her if she tries..." he trailed off, looking distant for a moment.

"And it will keep her and Stott from..." Agmar paused, raising an eyebrow. "I will just go get them now." He strode out of the room quickly, Yilmack close behind him, before the look of realization made it across Avern's face.

"She wouldn't... They've only just started getting to know each other! I need to have a talk with that young man!" She put her hand on his arm, laughing.

"She's a well-behaved young woman, Avern. I'm sure she has a bit more propriety than that. Emotions are high right now, and she needs someone to hold her. So does he, for that matter. But that doesn't mean she'll just leap under the sheets with him."

"You did," he said, his face flushing slightly.

"That was different. I'd already been..." she trailed off, worried about putting her thoughts to words and frightening Avern away.

"What?" He took her hand in his. "You'd been what?"

"What happens when this is all over, Avern? When the danger is past and the town tries to set itself right again. When people start going back to the way it was?"

"I don't think anything will ever be the way it was again after this," he answered, looking away from her. "The next set of hard storms here will seem simple to deal with by comparison. The town will rebuild, but this is unlikely to be forgotten any time soon."

"That's not what I'm talking about Avern."

"I know." He frowned, looking at her directly. "I still don't know if the town will accept Lynna enough to let us continue on here, but I also don't want to lose this." He squeezed her hand. "I haven't felt like this in a long time, Mary. I'm not going to just turn my back on it. I don't want to lose you." She saw his eyes fill with tears and he turned his head away. "I think the evil knows, Mary. I'm starting to think it keeps hurting you to hurt me. It knows what happened to my wife. It knows I watched her die, held her broken body in my arms, helpless to do anything to save her. Agmar says it's intelligent. Cunning. I'm starting to think it's hurting you because it knows I've fallen in love again. I'm so sorry, Mary."

Her heart leapt and broke in the same moment.

"Avern..." she found herself at a loss for words. She pulled him to her and kissed him instead. He returned it with a gentle tenderness she'd never felt before. She wished it could go on forever. Afterwards, she wiped his tears away with her fingers.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this. Bentz has always had it in for me, he was just never homicidal before. He hurt Margaret too. And you certainly can't blame yourself for that dog. I'd never even seen that dog in this town before it attacked me. The evil is trying to hurt all of us. It's just getting luckier with some than with others." She gave him a smile and pulled her hands away, hearing footsteps coming to the door. He had heard it too, and she saw him composing himself again as it opened.

Agmar ushered the young couple into the room, and both Stott and Lynna had slightly flushed faces. Mary wondered just what it was that Agmar had caught them doing, but the wizard's face was devoid of any indications. Lynna had changed into another outfit since Mary had last seen her, and had dark circles growing under eyes, despite the slight smile on her face. Her hair also looked damp, as if she'd recently washed it. Stott looked similarly exhausted, but smiled guiltily, and Mary was convinced they'd been caught doing slightly more than just kissing. She managed not to chuckle, but an amused smile played on her lips. Avern stood up once they were all in the room, Yilmack still only a couple steps after Agmar.

"I'll get that tea you wanted, Mary," Avern said suddenly. "Stott? Why don't you help me." His tone left no room for argument, and Mary stifled a laugh as both Lynna and Stott's eyes widened and their faces got redder. Mary wondered if perhaps Agmar had let Avern in on whatever he'd discovered. Stott didn't say a word, but nodded and followed Avern out of the room again like a man headed to be tried for his crimes.

"You didn't...?" Lynna asked Agmar once the door had closed behind them, a look of worry on her face.

"I did. He is your father. I gave him a nice colorful picture." Agmar had one eyebrow raised and a slightly amused look on his face now.

"Oh gods!" She looked at the closed door anxiously. "You might as well have just fed Stott to the evil instead!"

"You might want to give your father slightly more credit than that, Lynna Mordan," Mary interjected. "I don't know exactly what Agmar just caught you two doing, but based on your faces alone I doubt you were just playing an innocent game of cards up there, alone in an inn room."

"As I told Agmar already, he was just helping me wash my back!" she said defensively.

"Aye girl," Yilmack snorted. "C'ept he wern't sittin' behind you." The large man threw his head back and roared, filling the room with his booming laughter. Lynna turned red to her ears, and Mary couldn't help but laugh herself. She noticed that even Agmar smiled and shook his head with a look of amusement.

"Do not worry yourself, Lynna. He did not seem angry. Merely concerned. I believe he wants to make certain that Stott has your best interests at heart." Agmar pulled a chair forward from where it had been pushed against the wall, and settled into it with a sigh.

Mary had to laugh, actually. How upset could he really get at the girl. Why, only just...yesterday, was it? --But Lynna had been through a lot in a short time. She and Stott were getting close. Maybe it was too fast, she supposed.

But one thing she felt she understood was the nature of attraction between people. And times like these bred those feelings. It would be something to help her get through all this. She made a mental note to talk to Margaret about the rash of babies they could all expect from the survivors nine months from now.

She wrapped the sheet around her, folding over spots that had already been smeared with blood. The white made her skin look pale. Been a while since I saw myself in white...

"So is it daytime yet, or what?" she eventually asked to break what had become an awkward silence.

"The sun has been up for nearly two hours," Agmar said.

"Not that you'd know it to look outside," Lynna said with a sigh.

"Nay, 'twill not grow light until tomorrow, methinks." Mary looked over at Yilmack, wondering where he was from. The accent reminded her of Syred, but she couldn't think of a polite way to ask. She was too tired to think of polite things. She yawned deeply.

"Don't do that," Lynna complained. "There's far too long yet before we can sleep. No yawning."

"I'm afraid I can't help it at this point," Mary said. "The tea will help, I'm sure, but I feel as if..." she trailed off for a moment, searching for an example. "Actually, I've never felt this way before," she finally concluded. "I have nothing to compare this level of exhaustion with. I feel... frail? Weak? It's an effort just to stay sitting up."

"With as much blood as you have lost between the dog attack and this one, I am not suprised," Agmar said. "Your body hasn't had enough time to replenish itself from the last attack. You also have a lot of healing that your body is still working to do. Magic can close the wounds, but it takes time for the body to do its work to make those repairs permanent. Some of the wounds from the dog attack had re-opened from the stress put on them during this last attack on you."

"Why can't magic healing heal everything back the way it was exactly?" Lynna asked, as she sat down on the floor next to Mary's mattress.

"In order to do that, we would have to be able to turn back time," he answered. "The body remembers what has happened to it. You can hasten its healing process, pulling the wound back together and explaining to the body to focus on that area specifically and heal it back together. The body and mind are not designed to work at such a rate, however. Technically, people are correct when they say that wizards are disrupting the natural order of things. We are forcing some things to happen before the mind is ready and faster than the body is accustomed to when we heal a person. For instance, if a person lost a leg but a wizard was able to heal it back into place, not only would there still be newly grown flesh and muscle for the body to retrain and make stronger, but the moment that leg came off, the mind made an adjustment to account for the event. It would take some time for the mind to believe that the leg had actually returned."

"But what about people who've lost a leg and yet still sometimes feel as if it were still there?" Mary asked. "I've met people who've told me they could still feel it itching."

"Basically, it is a separation of mind and body that is the issue," Agmar explained. "If you lose a leg, your mind acts quickly to compensate. The body, on the other hand, still expects that leg to be there. If the leg is put back on, the body understands, but the mind needs coaching to see what is an unnatural change for it. The mind knows that legs do not just put themselves back on. It is not the natural order the body works in. People who have had a limb re-attached surgically have been known to regain use of the limb, but it takes a lot of time and hard work to train the mind to know about it, and frequently they will not regain the full range of motion again."

"What does that mean for you?" Lynna asked him.

"When I was wounded, my mind believed that I would be paralyzed from at least the waist down. It understood early on, fortunately, that I would be alright from the waist up, meaning I am breathing of my own accord now, although that was partly because I was able to lie to it while wounded and keep my chest rising and falling. Breathing is also more instinctual than walking. I can speed the process some, tell my mind to work harder to see that my legs still work, but in the meantime I can't feel my legs at all. It is possible that just the act of sleeping will give my mind the time to take stock and see that all is well. The body is attempting to give the wounded area physical strength again in the meantime, when I can spare the energy for it."

"I guess you weren't lying when you said you were a medical man," Mary commented.

"I once had the pleasure of traveling with a woman who was both a powerful healer and a skilled surgeon. She had a vast knowledge of the human body and what effect magic healing had upon it. She was kind enough to teach me whatever I wanted to know. Despite the fact that I have stood on many battlefields, I am actually a scholar by nature."

Mary noticed a sadness cross his face for a moment when he mentioned the woman. She suddenly found herself wondering how old he was. She knew that magic could alter the aging process, and sometimes his face would show more age than his overall appearance.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Avern's arrival. He carried a small tray with cups of tea, while Stott carried an obviously heavier one that had a pitcher, washbasin, and small pile of washclothes and towels. Lynna leapt to her feet and started towards them, looking worried. Avern stopped and handed her a cup of tea with a stern face and a shake of his head. Lynna's eyes widened, and she appeared to be at a loss for words, but Mary saw that Avern's eyes held a different story. She had a distinct impression that it was all he could do not to laugh.

"I've sent a small group to fetch you clothes. In the meantime, I thought you might like to get washed up as well, so we brought supplies for that too." He handed her one of the cups of tea before distributing the remaining cups around the room. Stott came over and set the tray with the washing supplies next to her on the floor before quickly moving over to Lynna. Mary saw them whispering when Avern wasn't looking. Avern bent down and started whispering as well while he poured water into the basin from the pitcher and dipped a cloth in it.

"I need a favor, Mary," he whispered.

"What is it? If I'm able..."

"I'm not sure..." he trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "When Lynna... you know... when she... became a woman..."

He looked so disconcerted that it was all Mary could do to keep from laughing.

"Well, she... Margaret explained some things at that point I think, but Lynna's not had a mother to ask questions of... Stott's a good young man, I don't disapprove of him, but I don't want her to... If she doesn't know what it means to be... intimate... Well I don't want her... she should wait until she's married for that!" He ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "It should be easier for you to explain the way it all works than it would be for me. But I don't want her to think I'm approving of her doing that. She shouldn't... oh dear." He sighed heavily, looking entirely frustrated. She patted him on the arm reassuringly.

"Just because I have an innfull of girls who are... intimate... with men on a regular basis, doesn't mean I'll encourage your daughter to rush into something with Stott," she whispered back, chuckling softly. "I'd be happy to make sure she understands how it all works. In fact, I'm honored that you'd ask me to."

"Thank you, Mary." Relief flooded his face. "She can help you wash up, if that'd be alright? That will give you two some time alone."

Mary nodded, still chuckling, and he stood up and turned to the rest of the room.

"Let's give Mary a chance to clean herself up. Lynna, perhaps you could give her a hand?"

"Yes, father." Lynna was fidgeting with her skirt nervously. Mary wondered what all had transpired in her whisperings with Stott. Agmar stood from his chair, nodding, and he and Yilmack led the way out of the room with Avern and Stott behind them. Mary found it amusing that both Stott and Avern took looks behind them, over their shoulder, at the Lynna and Mary respectively. Lynna closed the door behind them and came over to kneel at the edge of the mattress.

"He said something, didn't he? Is he angry with me, truely?"

At that point that Mary was too tired to not laugh. "Oh dear," she said, not intending to mimic Avern but finding herself doing so anyway.

"No, he's not upset with you," she began, grabbing up a wash cloth. "Actually, he's prouder of you than he knows how to say. Merchant and townsfolk he generally knows how to handle, but women aren't exactly a strong point of his, and there are some things he just doesn't know how to discuss."

"What are you saying?" Lynna asked with a skeptical look. Mary started cleaning up blood from where cuts had been. She sighed at that. I'm getting really sick of cleaning up my own blood.

"What? What's wrong?" Now the girl was starting to look worried. Lynna grabbed a washcloth and started helping dab at dried blood where she could get at it easily.

"Oh, nothing. Off the subject entirely. You're father's a little...concerned, maybe. You're a woman, and you're acting it more and more lately, and he's... I think he's worried he didn't prepare you enough. There's some things you didn't have your mother around to explain."

"Waaaait a minute. You're talking about the speech, aren't you?" Lynna blushed deeply. "Oh gods, he tried to do that once. You should have seen him. I didn't know whether to run in embarrassment at what he was trying to say or laugh at how much trouble he was having trying to say it."

"So he never ended up explaining it?" Mary rinsed out the cloth before continuing.

"No...!" Lynna laughed. "Not that he needed to, really. I mean, maybe originally he did, but..."

"You haven't... have you?"

"Oh, no! Not... You mean have I... --Or do you mean with Stott?"

"Um..." Mary reached for a delicate wording, knowing that was never one of her greatest strengths.

"Well, no. I haven't, that is," Lynna said. "With anyone. But I think I know how to. I mean, it doesn't sound that complicated."

"Oh? And just who have you been talking to?"

"I do have friends, Mary!" Lynna sighed, looking upset.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be difficult. Your father doesn't want you to share yourself with a man until you are married is all. He just wants to make sure you understand where that boundry is. It seems to me that if he's saying that, he approves of Stott, but knows that one thing can lead to another is all." Mary had stopped washing to look at the girl, who was wringing the other washcloth out in the basin.

"Look," Lynna said, not looking at Mary, "Margaret explained a few things when I started the bleeding, for one, and two years before that Emilee's mom explained stuff to her and she told me. After she got married, Emilee told me a few other things too. I know what it is that girls aren't supposed to do until they are married. I'm not one of your girls." Lynna put her hand to her mouth, inhaling, and looking at Mary with wide eyes. "I didn't mean that!"

Mary sighed, wondering what the best response really was. If Avern and I are going to be involved, then I guess I had better be honest with the girl. She looked at Lynna directly and took a deep breath.

"Let's just be honest here, Lynna. I run a brothel. The girls there have sex for money. There. I said it. I know that there's a lot of people in town that have bad things to say about my girls and I - "

Mary..." Lynna shook her head, as if to protest.

"Don't, Lynna. I know it's true. I'm not blind. But not a single person who's called one of us a 'whore' has ever tried to get to know us, or they might think differently. Almost every girl working for me has come from a point where she thought there was no future for her anywhere else. They were being beaten or abused by someone when I found them, and I've paid someone off to bring them here. They grew up in brothels themselves, or living in the streets, with no other future ever offered to them. Yes, I'm making a profit while they sell their bodies, but I'm also taking that profit and trying to give them a better future with it. Until I find other ways that each of them can make a living and feel good about themselves, I'm at least giving them a clean, safe environment to work in, doing what they know."

"Oh," Lynna looked as if she didn't know what to say. "I didn't know."

"I don't exactly advertise it. If I'm going to do business with sailors as my clients, they expect a certain level of... debauchery... to be involved. If they thought they were helping a charity they wouldn't bother with us and we'd make no money at all. My inn does bring business to this town, that might otherwise dock elsewhere for the entertainment. That's why they've never shut me down. Even Bentz mostly understood that, despite the fact that I offended his moral dignity by being here. And I've always liked the fact that sailors who've been at sea for months at a time tend to appreciate women more and are less likely to be violent. Enthusiastic, yes, but not as dangerous." She looked back down and frowned at the long slashes down the front of her dress, wiping away more blood from the exposed skin. She found herself worrying about her girls again. I hope Genla can manage to keep things under control.

"Can I ask you a question?" Lynna was fidgeting with the washcloth in her hands, turning it over and over.

"Of course," Mary replied.

"Were you... I mean... um... before you came here, did you..?" she trailed off, and had a distinct resemblance to her father just then.

"Yes. I did. And I ended up in a bad situation myself, with a very violent man as my boss. A lot of terrible things happened and I ran away." She paused a moment, trying to read the girl's face for reaction. "Does that bother you?"

Mary appreciated the fact that Lynna seemed to take a few moments to consider it before answering. She raised her head and looked at Mary, seeming very earnest.

"No, not really. My father wouldn't just choose anyone. Neither would I, for that matter. And when you found out about my being able to use magic, you accepted me without question. I'm not going to judge you by your past when you're not judging me for doing something that so many people seem to think is evil. In the time I've spent around you recently, I've seen enough to know you're a good person, so none of the rest of it really matters."

Mary felt tears well up in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said. Her heart swelled, and she impulsively hugged the girl. After a few moments, they sat back and returned to washing. Mary felt as if a cloud had been lifted from between them.