“The piercing hurts, for it takes time for the ear to heal. Once the holes are in, it’s not so bad. But my Isdra didn’t flinch or cry out, for she is a Warrior of the Plains, strong, tough, and proud.”

Isdra knelt at his feet to finish removing his boots. “It was to honor you.”

“And I was honored.” Epor took a deep breath, and I gave him a sharp look. He was suffering, I could see that. I offered him the cup. He took it, and drank it down quickly, with only a light wrinkling of his nose at the taste and continued where he’d left off. “It was then my turn. I sat before the weaver, and at the first touch of his needle…” He paused dramatically, “I screamed like a baby.”

I laughed at the image. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Isdra sat back on her heels. “He carried on, weeping and wailing, saying that to bond with me was worth any pain, any suffering. He had the weaver and the watchers and the witnesses all laughing so hard they cried.”

“Who can I mock, if I cannot mock myself?” Epor asked hoarsely.

“I will let no one mock you, my brave warrior.” Isdra’s voice broke as she stood and finished stripping Epor. His energy was waning before my eyes. Never before had a patient weakened so visibly, so fast, even as the beads of sweat gathered on his face. I’d lost the others. I’d not lose him.

Isdra folded his clothes off to the side as I helped Epor settle into the bed. She went to place his weapons at his side, but Epor stopped her. “No.”

She looked at him, startled, then over at me. I shook my head as well. “If he raves…”

She gave a sharp nod, and placed the weapons, all of them, in the far corner by the hearth. The warclub she set down last, as if to guard the others.

“You must bind me.” Epor’s voice was low and rough.

Isdra balked at that. “I can control—”

“No. Take no chances with this enemy. Remove your own weapons, Isdra. For I am a dangerous and clever opponent.”

Isdra nodded, unable to answer. My own throat closed as we tied his wrists to the bed frame, down at his sides. He insisted that we secure his feet as well. Only after testing the strength of the bonds did he relax onto the bed, his eyes closed. We covered him with a blanket.

Isdra moved off, removing her own weapons as instructed. I gathered the necessary vials, and pulled two buckets of water closer to the bed. I wrung out a cloth and started wiping his face and chest. Isdra did the same. We were silent for a few moments, when Epor’s eyes fluttered open. They were vague and unfocused, telling me that the lotus was starting to work. He focused on Isdra and smiled. “You are my bonded, my heart’s fire, and I am yours, to the snows and beyond.”

“Do not speak of the snows.” Isdra whispered as she wiped his chest.

“You must promise me…” Epor cleared his throat. “You must promise me to remain at the Warprize’s side for as long as she needs you.”

Isdra looked off, caught my eye and looked at the floor.

“No.” Epor tugged slightly at his bonds and Isdra reached out to cover his hand with hers. “Promise me.”

She leaned down, her lips close to his ear. “You must fight this, Epor.”

“I will.” He gave her a smile, a far shadow from his normal grin. “But you must promise.”

Isdra closed her eyes. For a long moment, the only sound was Epor’s breathing. Then her grey eyes opened, and she nodded slowly. “I promise.”

I should have listened to the old healer, should have heeded her warning. She was right. It was too fast. Too fast for the medicines to take effect. Too fast to break the fever. Too fast for us to be able to balance his humors, replace his fluids.

It started well. The lotus seemed to calm him. But the Sweat was a vicious enemy, and as fast as we eased his fever the heat would rebuild in his skin. We labored hard, changing bedding, and using fresh water and rose oil to wipe him down. At first he’d respond to both of us, obeying our commands to swallow. But as the fever built, his eyes would only open at Isdra’s call, and they held no awareness. Even that reaction failed in time and Isdra could no longer rouse him.

But worse was to come.

“Where is Isdra?” Epor mumbled, testing the restraints.

Isdra leaned closer. “I’m here, Epor.”

Epor’s eyes opened a crack, but his gaze slid right past her to me. “Where is my bonded? Why isn’t she here?”

Isdra sucked in a breath, but I moved forward to answer. “She’s right here, Epor.”

“No, no, she’s gone, my bonded has left me,” Epor started to fight the restraints with a passion, shaking the bed. “Where has she gone?”

Isdra was speechless, white and shivering. I touched her arm. “It’s the fever, Isdra. He’s raving.”

“His eyes are open…” She looked at me in doubt.

“But he does not see.” I reached for the water and cloths. “Keep talking to him, Isdra.”

She jerked her head in agreement, but the pain never left her eyes. We kept talking, both of us, trying to convince Epor that Isdra was there, that she would never leave him. But he couldn’t be comforted or reassured. He became very agitated, demanding that we release him so that he could find her. It broke our hearts to hear the pain in his voice.

Worse still, he fell into the stupor without realizing that she was there. Isdra’s tears did not start until Epor lapsed into the lethargy and would not wake. Still, we tried to force liquids into him, with no success. In the end we sat in silence, each holding a hand. Every breath was a painful rasp, each inhale a victory, every exhale a fear.

At the last, Epor opened his eyes as he drew in a final rasping breath. Isdra leaned over, stroking his head. He focused on her face, and gave her a weak smile, closed his eyes, and exhaled. The beat of his heart under my fingers stopped even as his breath faded.

Isdra stared at me, the knowledge building within her until her face crumbled and her eyes closed.

I sagged back on my heels, sweat beading on my forehead, weak with anger and fear and a headache pounding between my eyes. What killed a healthy man in so few hours? What had I done wrong?

“Epor.” Isdra’s voice cracked. I looked over as she took his right hand in hers and waited for a response. When none came, she reached over for his left hand. “Epor of the Badger.”

“Isdra, he’s—”

I cut myself off as she nodded, and moved so that she could grasp his left foot. She called his name again, tears running down her face. The silence echoed as she grasped his right foot, and drew in a deep breath that ended in a sob. “Epor, my soul’s delight, beloved, please.”

My weeping was her only answer.

She knelt at his feet, her head bowed, for a long moment. When she finally lifted her head, her face was streaked with tears. With effort, she rose and went to her weapons and pulled her dagger, sharp and bright. She returned to cut his bonds, freeing him from the restraints. Once that was accomplished, she eased down to kneel by Epor’s head. She stroked his hair and placed her lips at his ear. “I’ll see you beyond the snows, my heart’s fire.”

She sat back, and turned her streaked face to me. I offered a cloth, but she refused. “The wind will take them, Warprize.”

I used the cloth to wipe my own tears, trying to bring myself under control and then sat working the cloth between my hands.

We might have sat like that for hours, awash in grief, but the babe wailed from her blankets, and kicked with her feet. Isdra turned her head dully, then rose to see to her needs. I remembered my other patient, and turned to his bed, only to find that he had died as well, unnoticed and untended. Guilt brought more tears to my eyes as I pulled the blanket over his face. I’d never once looked at him after Epor had taken ill. Some healer I was. All my patients, dead at my hands. An entire village, gone. I lowered my aching head into my hands and wept for the loss and my incompetence.