That brief, unexpected statement had the same impact as a blow to the face.
Edmund might have had the upper hand over Giles earlier, but now the roles were reversed. Edmund reeled momentarily before demanding, "Where?"
The man turned over in the bed, shivering. "The deep woods near the Silver River."
The younger hunter started, his mind performing several mental calculations related to the distance and time to the river. He gave the man a suspicious look. It was an impossible trek for the man to have made there and back in a week's time or less, particularly with this snow. "You have confirmed this yourself?"
"No," Giles made a sound of irritation. "My kinsmen have said so. They are never wrong."
"Your kinsmen," Edmund repeated thoughtfully. He had heard that the man was not connected to any one in these parts but never had known exactly where the man came from.
He had opened his mouth to ask more questions when a stern voice at the doorway interrupted him. "Edmund." Mrs. Winchester passed him, with a generous load of blankets in hand. "Leave him be."
Respectful of her wishes, he said nothing more, instead helping the older woman with her task of making the man comfortable in his bed. They worked in amicable silence, wrapping the ailing man carefully in order to keep him warm and allowing the man to lie quietly.
When they had both withdrawn from the room, Edmund broke his silence. "You overheard what he said—"
She nodded. Mrs. Winchester gathered her words slowly, perhaps thinking through things for herself before she responded. "His master had warned something like this might be possible to both Elanore and I that day she arrived. I believe that is why Elanore is with the Count at the moment."
Edmund felt his chest tighten at that particular piece of information. "You sent her to him?"
"He called for the both of us," Mrs. Winchester answered in low tones, likely not wanting to be overheard by the other person in the home.
He was surprised by how much he was relieved by her admission. That sense of relief opened his eyes, though, to something about himself that he didn't like at all.
The older woman was worried enough about Elanore to not notice that talk of the Count had made the young man jealous. "I had expected her home some time ago. Perhaps you can aide both the coachman and myself by taking the message to his master and bringing her home?"
He did not tell her that he was not exactly welcome on the property of the Count and that his presence might cause more problems. Edmund was in no position to refuse the old woman anything. He owed her and her husband too much to even consider anything but honoring the request.
"I'll do exactly that," he took her hand in reassurance. "Will you be alright here with the coachman?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you afraid he might do something to us?"
His mouth twisted a bit. Giles and women were generally a poor mix – not because he was dangerous to them but dangerous for them. "I was more that I was concerned he would try to escape. And then there's his propensity to flirt with any woman with any age."
That admission caused the old woman to narrow her eyes. "That sort of man, is he?"
"A wolf in sheep's clothing," Edmund said lightly. "But I have heard that he is quite susceptible to a pot or a rolling pin."
"Indeed!" Mrs. Winchester smiled faintly, understanding the hint. "If that is so, I do not think Mr. Giles is any danger to either of us. Mrs. Reyes and I are exceptionally good at wielding kitchen implements."
Two elder women, wise to the ways of the world might be more than a match for Giles. Edmund was certain the women would be fine. Nonetheless, he would hurry.
* * *
As tired as he was, Edmund did his best to ride quickly to the estate. He warily approached the metal gate, noting it was open.
He felt uneasy as soon as he and his horse found themselves on the gate's other side. His horse did not care much for the property either, snuffling all the way down a gentle path lined with many trees. Edmund studied the various sets of tracks that had apparently gone done this way before. There were a fair number of ordinary tracks, and then there was something odd that had also left its imprint, something unusually large.
His mind was awhirl with speculations as to the type of creature that might have stumbled this way when he encountered a rather peculiar sight. The path had opened into a clearing and along this clearing stood grey beasts of stone, watching the land about them -- their eyes trained in every which direction except the large buildings behind them. A cold chill moved through him as he finally understood the direction and meaning of Giles' ramblings. The man had claimed to be tracking a stone beast, one that turned out to be very much like hundred or so that stood in front of him.
Edmund nudged his horse forward, watching these statues carefully. It was almost laughable that he should be so cautious, but the normally quiet and uneventful town of Winchester was starting to fill with extraordinary creatures, people, and circumstances. He rode past them, gripping the reins of his horse tightly -- so tight that his fingers twinged with pain.
At the end of the path stood a man at an open door, an elderly gentleman who he vaguely recalled from before. Politely, Edmund lifted his cap, recognizing him as the man who from the coach that had carried Elanore towards town when she first arrived.
There was a faint look of confusion on the older man's face, and Edmund wondered if the man did not remember him from the other day.
"My apologies for coming unexpectedly," the hunter stayed on his horse. "I'm Edmund Ormond. I've come for Miss Redley at her grandmother's request. She has a patient waiting for her."
"She's resting inside," the man's smile appeared nervous. "Will you come in and wait?"
He shook his head. "No, I shall wait here."
"Very well." The man bowed before disappearing behind a partially closed door. Edmund dismounted his horse and waited at the bottom of the steps. For several long minutes he waited, staring up at the grotesquely carved door. He did not know what to think of such a strange gothic place. His home was far humbler, his origins obviously less noble. He did not feel envy but simply inadequacy. The gap between himself and the Count -- their value, their material wealth, and stature -- was becoming ever clearer by the minute.
From the empty trees around him, he could hear faint catcalls. The bird cries offered a mocking chorus to his own internal doubts.
Suddenly the man to whom he must inevitably be compared materialized in front of him.
"The trespasser returns," the Count said. He turned a cold pair of eyes upon him, as his manservant caught up from behind him. "I did not expect to see you again. And yet you came," he looked rather amused. "You must have heard Miss Redley was here."
Edmund refused to give the man any leverage over him. He matched the Count in tone and manner. "She has a patient waiting for her." His voice sharpened. "Your coachman."
There was a flash of emotion on the dark man's face. Perhaps it was concern or perhaps irritation. Edmund could not tell, for it had disappeared rather quickly. "Giles is a strong and capable man," Count Wolfram continued to question and to challenge.
The manservant coughed politely. "Sir, may I ask how Giles fares?"
Edmund nodded. "As strong as Giles is, he could not subdue some sort of strange catlike creature he had been tracking. When I found him, he was also improperly attired for the weather and so is both tired and suffering from overexposure."
The Count suddenly turned his eyes towards the courtyard. His eyes came to rest on the statues as if he finally understood something. "Giles has some odd habits," was all he could say. "Is he wounded?"
"No," Edmund was relieved that the conversation had turned towards something normal. "Of that I'm certain. But his behavior is worrying. Mrs. Winchester sends for her granddaughter to see to his recovery. And Giles sends a message to you which he said could not wait."
"I suppose you bring that message?" Edmund felt uneasy as the Count's sharp, searching gaze turned back towards him.
The sound of a woman's steps came from behind the Count and his manservant. Edmund pressed forward with an answer, now anxious to leave the message and this place behind. "He's heard from his kinsmen that the Unthings are gathering near the Silver River."
The Count stiffened. To all present, it was not clear whether it was due to this unwelcome news or the look that Elanore offered him.
Edmund felt a prick of anxiety; the look was one full of unspoken meaning and communicated something that excluded the rest of them. But as she turned to look at him, her face brightened, and he brushed the other feelings aside.
"My man Giles waits for you at your home," the Count stepped aside. He did not look all that pleased as he addressed Elanore. "But wait for a moment," he said and ordered the manservant, apparently named 'Hastings' to some errand.
They made an awkward picture– two men and the one woman that inevitably tied them together – standing under the doorframe. Elanore glowered at the Count, clearly unhappy about something. Exactly what Edmund did not understand.
"Hastings will give you a restorative to administer to Giles," the Count did not acknowledge Elanore's apparent frame of mind. "It is infused with verbena," he stated in a manner that did not invite further questions.
"Alright," she agreed, albeit unwillingly.
As Hastings returned with a small basket, Edmund took all of Elanore's other things and quickly secured them on his horse. "Elanore," he held out his hand for her own. "It'll be faster if we ride together."
"But my horse," she protested gently.
"We'll come for it tomorrow. It'll be faster this way," he pleaded silently with her, not wanting to delay. The Count, the setting, nearly everything about this place was putting him on edge.
He was relieved when she placed both hand and trust in him. As he lifted her to his horse and then seated himself behind her, he kept a stoic expression on his face as his arms encircled Elanore around her waist to take the reins.
The Count watched, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I will send a coach in the morning. Please return with Giles on that coach."
Elanore turned her head to look at the Count, almost glaring. "No matter his condition?"
"He will be fine by then," the Count responded.
She opened her mouth to argue, but Edmund placed a hand upon her arm, reminding her that this was only prolonging the conversation. She understood and said nothing, turning her face straight ahead.
Satisfied, Edmund kicked his horse into motion and did not look back.
But Elanore did, catching the sight of the Count staring at a lion in the courtyard.
* * *
Under different circumstances, a short ride might have afforded the young man some opportunity to engage the young lady in meaningful or intimate conversation. However charming an idea that might be, they were both deep in thought and said nothing while they sped down the white road back towards town. Their lack of attention to one another was understandable. They both were thinking of magic and mythical creatures -- of things that did not make sense to most mortal souls.
It was a shame that Edmund did not notice how fetching Elanore's looks were in the deepening twilight. If he clutched Elanore tightly to him while he pushed his horse along, it was only because daylight was ending earlier each day and he did not feel comfortable being outside in the dark
Elanore was not a silly sort of woman, nor a romantic sort. She had already excused Edmund's familiar behavior as an obvious side-effect of his desire to protect her. She kept quiet throughout the ride, choosing to dwell upon what she had overheard from Edmund and the Count's terse and uncomfortable conversation on the doorstep of Lord Wolfram's imposing hallway. This choice meant leaving Edmund to the mercy of his imagination as to the subtext behind Lord Wolfram's departing request to Elanore and then the meaning behind the small, grateful smile as they arrived at her home and he helped her off the horse.
Thoughts and feelings were important to both Elanore and Edmund and yet there was no opportunity to lay them bare. Elanore ran into the home and found two women in the midst of a power struggle, each with a particular view on how a half-indisposed man should be treated. The debate was over something trivial – an issue of whether the patient should be roused to be fed or allowed to sleep indefinitely.
Elanore did not have much patience to spare. "I'm going to remove his clothes," she finally threatened. "You best leave."
"Shocking," Mrs. Reyes gasped as she exited the room and fled to the kitchen. Mrs. Winchester simply raised an eyebrow and followed after her neighbor, while nodding at Edmund in greeting as she, too, passed him in the hallway.
The healer turned her brown eyes thoughtfully upon Edmund and motioned for him to follow her into the room. "I'll need your help," she said quietly by way of explanation as she drew the door fully shut behind her.
Edmund stood by her as she took her place next to the bed where its occupant lay on the bed snoring rather loudly. He did not flinch as she began to speak rather sharply. "Unlike those ladies, I can't be fooled. You'll soon find out that it's in your best interest to be honest with me. Open your eyes."
After a moment the man did so, with a sly grin upon his face.
The lady was not amused. "Remove his clothes please."
Both men stared agape at the petite woman who ignored them. She was retrieving something from one of the several baskets in the room. Edmund furrowed his brow and glanced somewhat uneasily at the coachman. Undressing a man was not exactly in his job description but telling that to Elanore would be unwise; she seemed to be in a rather black mood.
Giles gave the girl a rather puzzled look and shook his head. He, too, could tell something or someone was on the healer's mind.
With a small frown of pain, Giles raised his hands over his head and pretended he didn't care that it was Edmund and not Elanore who pulled his shirt off of him. If he had any expectation of gentle motherly care, he did not receive it. The healer was rather unkind with all her prodding and poking.
Elanore stepped back a few minutes later, satisfied by her inspection. "You had an encounter with a stone lion did you?"
He looked first at Edmund and then up at the ceiling first before finally answering. "Would you believe me if I did?"
Emphatically, Elanore answered, "Yes. I've met one myself this afternoon."
Her admission drew a pair of goggle-eyed stares from both men. There was a long pause before Giles cleared his throat and filled the silence. "I wonder how that might have come to pass."
With a quick glance at Edmund, she seemed undecided on how much to say.
Edmund understood the meaning of these odd looks. ""I believe you," he turned a kindly glance towards the young woman and then towards Giles to include him in his statement. "Both of you. It's alright to speak in front of me, for I will not ridicule you or tell others if you wish to keep all this in confidence."
It was a strange admission on his part but apparently needed.
Giles heaved a sigh of relief, wincing slightly as he did so. "It might not be all that easy to keep a secret. I hadn't been tracking it for more than a quarter hour or so when I met up with you, Edmund. I don't know if you knew what it was when you came to my aid, but I had recognized it as soon as I caught sight of it wandering around the road." He made a face of irritation and amusement. "Imagine my horror when I thought it came from the estate and what the sight of that thing would do to the townsfolk. I have no idea how long it wandered or who else might have spotted it. I followed it with the intent of driving it back home, but it was so quick. It seemed determined to either explore or track something-"
Edmund nodded, for he did recall it was rather fast moving.
"Could you not talk to it?" Elanore asked.
"No," Giles gave her a puzzled look. "I do not exactly speak lion." He grinned slightly. "Or the language of stones."
She did not echo his smile. It was obvious to both gentlemen that she did not find the man's attempts at humor to be funny. "I encountered an active lion earlier in the day while at the estate," she stated. "Not harmful of course. It was quite tame, or as tame as one can expect from a magical anomaly. It was but one creature, however, and the others were not at all active."
The meaning of the large tracks he had seen previously suggested itself to Edmund. He shared his idea aloud. "There were a set of rather odd tracks near the entryway. Probably from that same creature."
"That cheeky thing," Giles rubbed his beard. "Pouncing up to the gate where anyone and everyone could see it." He grimaced, "What a mess I'll have to deal with later."
Elanore was still deep in thought. "Perhaps it did get loose and ran about after I had entered the house. However, that same creature was where I left him when we left this afternoon. Unless there are others outside the estate?"
"They're unique to the property," Giles argued. "It's not impossible that others may exist, but it is a highly unlikely possibility there are more anywhere within the vicinity."
"I've never seen such a thing before," Edmund agreed. "Except on the bridge but that thing is larger and older."
The lady nodded. There was a clear way for her to sort out the events, but it could not be done here. "Never mind then."
"That infernal beast has a mind of its own," Giles continued to grumble. "I do not know what it was doing out there, but I had to tell it to go home in as many ways as I could think."
"I was wondering what language you were using," Edmund interjected. "Or incantation."
"I'm not a magic user," the patient responded rather emphatically. "I was just using a bit of dialect, a few phrases passed around our family while I tried to keep it still. The silly thing kept struggling and so eventually I had to just give it good whack on the bottom and hope it'd go home like a bad disobedient child."
Edmund muttered under his breath. "Was that what you were doing?" The way Giles seemed to have represented the situation was far better than how it had appeared to him. "It looked more like it had the advantage on you."
"I had the upper hand, I tell you," Giles looked deeply offended. "If I were not so tired, I'd have been riding that stupid creature all the way back home instead of getting fists thrown at me by young whelps like you."
Elanore shifted suddenly to reach for the young hunter's hand as if to inspect it. Gently, Edmund waved her fingers away. "You could barely stand," Edmund supplied with a traitorous smile. "I didn't punch you all that hard. Only hard enough to keep you from taking my horse and chasing down that beast."
The young woman let out an exasperated sigh. "Well here we are now, aren't we?" She had enough of this bickering, looming threateningly over the patient. Her hands reached out towards the blankets that covered the man's legs. "I suppose I'll have to re-inspect you, sir, for other injuries. Edmund—" she signaled towards the pathetic garb that passed for pants on the coachman, indicating that she wanted them removed.
Edmund grimaced once before he obeyed, ignoring Giles as he began to curse up a storm.
It took considerable effort to persuade the patient to lie still and rest. Giles would not close his eyes until after he had been doubly assured that his messages had been taken to his master. Only then were the two friends able to withdraw from the room and join the two elderly women for a quiet supper.
The meal was not an easy affair either. Gradually Edmund became aware of Elanore's continued refusal to engage her neighbor in conversation. He recalled what he had been told of Mrs. Reyes' responsibility for the rumors circling about town. It pained him that he had contributed to the rift; as a result he took great care to behave as neutrally as he could throughout the meal.
Mrs. Reyes left after dinner, perhaps a bit disappointed and bored by the lack of excitement that the meal had afforded her. Edmund lingered only to bring in firewood for both the kitchen stove and the fireplace before he made his polite excuses to leave. He had much he wanted to discuss with Elanore, but it was clear she was not her usual self. Reluctantly he waited for another opportunity to tell Elanore of his conversation with the guildmaster. What he had to tell her would do little to brighten her mood.
He would have left if it were not for the hand of Mrs. Winchester intervening in his affairs. With an eye towards helping her two favorite young people, she begged Edmund to stay the night and assist Elanore in minding the roguish patient in the back of the house.
He was not sure exactly how much help he'd be; Elanore seemed to be more than capable of taming the man herself. But he stayed -- more for Mrs. Winchester and not Elanore.
Edmund and Mrs. Winchester had often kept company together these last few months, and it was he who understood best what she wanted and when. Elanore could only but follow his lead as he patiently settled the elderly lady into her chair by the warm fire. The young lady could only listen with gentle surprise as he explained quietly to her that her grandmother, as energetic as she often appeared, was showing signs of fatigue.
The grand lady of the home took up her place and beckoned the two young things she loved dearly to her side. There they began their conversation about the Count's estate.
Mrs. Winchester led the conversation, asking pointed questions while Elanore answered with as much detail as she could supply. Edmund could add little to her vivid descriptions as he had only seen the estate's exterior. But he agreed that the words 'beautiful,' 'terrifying,' and 'vast' were words that could be used to describe the grounds.
It was when they were asked to speak their opinions of the Count himself that Elanore faltered.
There was a polite beginning to what she had to say. She bit her lip as she admitted that the man seemed peculiar as might be expected of noble sorts. Her face betrayed her fascination while her voice spoke of feelings of aggravation towards the man. The contradictions were perplexing to Edmund, who could not understand or determine whether she liked or disliked the man. The only admission she made was that his knowledge of arcane mythology was superior to hers, particularly as related to this land. It was to this she hesitantly added, "He means to teach me more of it so as to help find some ways to deal with the Unthings."
While Mrs. Winchester nodded at this last statement, a shadow of concern passed over Edmund's face.
"I have to accept his tutelage," Elanore suddenly sat back in her chair and pressed her fingers to her face. "I see that I must at least try for a few days or more. But I'm afraid I'm abandoning my duties to you, grandmother."
"Mrs. Reyes is always next door," the mayor responded gently. "And what you may learn may help others. I am but an ill and ineffectual shepherd for the townspeople. At least this way--" the proud woman sat up straight in her chair. "This way our family is still doing its duty."
Her granddaughter nodded and she, too, sat straighter.
"Elanore," Edmund had his reservations but compassion for both women won over worry. "The hunters leave for a week or so. I will stop in to help each day. "
"Indeed, we will all manage somehow," Mrs. Winchester nodded. "We must. And as for Mrs. Reyes and the other old ladies of this town, I'm sorry I cannot chaperone you to protect you from what they might continue to say about you. But the invention of a sickly servant for the dear Count should help most people dismiss your regular visits there."
As old as the woman was, she was still quite clever particularly when it came to people and to planning. Neither of the two young persons had thought through things all that far. They continued to be guided along when Mrs. Winchester continued her suggestions.
After a kind and meaningful glance at Edmund, she addressed Elanore. "It is your traveling back and forth as the daylight begins to disappear that concerns me. If you could find yourself a companion who knows the area well and can offer you protection, I would feel easier about your trips back and forth."
Having made the arrangement more about her own convenience and concern, neither of the two dared question it. Nor could they, for Mrs. Winchester dismissed herself from their company at that point to rest and disappeared upstairs, leaving the young ones to themselves.
For a few minutes, Edmund sat on a bench near the kitchen fire, tapping his boot against the stone floor while Elanore cleaned up the remnants of their dinner. Whatever thoughts she had on her mind he could not observe while she did so, nor draw out, for she said little.
But after she finished, she sat down next to him and took his right hand to inspect it. She smiled as she mocked herself. "In all this craziness, I forgot to see how you were doing."
His fingers twitched slightly at Elanore's touch. He opened his mouth to respond with something, anything, but words would not be appropriate to describe his feelings of relief that she was concerned over him.
It was not that he desired to be fussed over, but that he wished to be assured that he was still of some relevance to her. All of these things he could have told her, but he did not wish to ruin the warmth and the loveliness of the moment. Instead he answered simply and selflessly. "It feels well enough."
Elanore did not notice his hesitation or his sudden shyness. She remained focused on her task of assessing Edmund, calmly testing his reflexes, occasionally glancing up at his face to see his response to her gentle ministrations. She was half-smiling as she concluded, almost teasing as she spoke. "I suppose so. Well enough, at the very least, to ride out and drag me home even when you should have been resting."
"Your grandmother wanted you back." With a look towards the floor, he admitted, "And I did as well."
He did not see how she colored a bit at the latter part of his statement. Had he, he might have continued to speak. Instead, Elanore was left to fill the silence. "You don't approve," she smiled a bit awkwardly. "That's so like you, Edmund."
"He's a difficult person," Edmund pressed his lips together. "Perhaps he hasn't shown that side to you."
She shook her slightly. "No you are right. He is a hard teacher."
He turned her hand over – the one that had been holding his for inspection – and bared her palm. Edmund had dared not say anything in front of Mrs. Winchester, but her comment now made it imperative for him to know the cause of the angry blistering on her hand. "Did he do this to you?"
She winced at his touch and at the suppressed anger in his voice. "No. It's from the magic items I touched."
"What!?"
Elanore's eyes blinked heavily, her deepening fatigue showing. "It's what he's teaching me," she spoke softly. "That's what I meant about dealing with the Unthings."
It was the first time that Edmund truly understood what it meant to fear for another. Magic was an anathema to many of the older folk in these parts. Anyone who used it likely would be treated as such. Patiently, kindly, and with no judgment on his part, Edmund explained to Elanore the precariousness of her situation. "The clergy in these parts generally hate that sort of thing. And then there are those who believe it ridiculous – borne of wishful thinking or foolish tricks."
"They don't appear to believe in anything," Elanore wearily responded. "Anything except in what they can grasp themselves."
Edmund knew that what she had said held merit. The huntsmen were self-reliant, to the point they cared little for the town and improving its situation. As for the townsfolk, they were always fixated on the procuring of food and drink due to the harsh winter they faced every year. They did little else except talk about one another and make merry when they could.
Elanore was an outsider, observant of its problems but unaware of the power she wielded over someone like Edmund, who already felt uneasy about his place in this town. He dared not tell her how precious she was to him as one of the few true friends he had. He held her hand fast, wondering in how many ways he might lose her as a result of these choices she had to make.
"It's what he believes is one way to deal with the Unthings should they come this way." Elanore closed her eyes. "Or maybe it's the only way he understands. But it's still better than sitting around and denying things."
Edmund puzzled over the meaning of that last statement as well as her sudden bitter tone of voice. He did not press that point, instead telling her what was first and foremost on his mind when she turned her troubled gaze to Edmund. "I wish others could help you," he said honestly. "I wish I could help you."
She responded with a squeeze of his hand. As he looked at her, smiling slightly at him, he thought he might be able to tell her everything he was feeling at the moment. He wanted to tell her how she made him feel braver than he really was, how she made his life happier and more frightening than he could comprehend, and how he wished she would not leave when it came to be spring.
But two things kept him from speaking openly at that moment. The first was a nagging sense of inferiority or incompleteness about his own past history; this prevented him from asking her what she thought of him. The second thing was a large thumping sound that came from down the hallway.
As Elanore stood suddenly, that brief opportunity to speak vanished.
Edmund could not keep up as she moved from the kitchen to the hallway to better hear the sound. As the thumps began to fade, the floorboards in the house echoed the larger sounds, shaking and creaking in response. Both Edmund and Elanore recognized that the sound was coming from the back room where Giles rested.
Elanore was nearly at the door to the room before Edmund caught up with her and firmly grasped her shoulder. "Elanore. Wait."
She opened her mouth to protest but closed it quickly when the short sword in Edmund's hand flashed.
A faint cold draft drifted from underneath the doorway. Edmund strained his ears for sounds from the other side of the door. Slowly, he felt the hairs on his neck stand on end as there came a faint scrabbling sound moving across the floorboards on the door's other side. It was followed by a low, familiar moan.
"Stay behind me," cautioned Edmund, his instincts telling him that something was wrong. "Let me be certain that the room is safe."
To her credit, Elanore simply nodded, trying not to show any fear before she handed him the lamp. With his shoulder he pushed the door in roughly. His raised sword led the way inside, guarding against whatever might be waiting inside while the lamp in his other hand flickered briefly but held fast, illuminating the room.
Quickly, he surveyed the room for intruders. Although he found none, his eyes narrowed as he observed two things: the window curtains moving slightly in response to the wind and the body of the coachman on the floor.
Now certain that it was safe, he nodded at Elanore to step forward. As she did so, she went straight to the patient who lay on his side with legs and feet drawn up to his chest.
While she examined him, Edmund turned his attention back to the open window, drawing it firmly shut. He looked out through the glass for signs of an escaped intruder. This activity proved to be futile; he could see little in the increasing darkness.
Although the premonition of danger had passed, Edmund took care to doubly bar the window. It was in this process of moving things about that his fingers discovered sharp grooves and marks on the frame that surrounded the glass. He frowned for a moment at the unfamiliar markings, trying to recall if they had been there previously in the fall when he had last repaired these windows.
When Edmund turned back to see how the healer was doing, he discovered Elanore struggling on her own to put the man back to bed. He scolded her mildly as he came to her rescue and lifted the man from the floor for her.
Her face flushed slightly with embarrassment as he placed the man back on the bed. "I didn't want to interrupt you," she apologized. "I thought something might be outside."
"I didn't see much," Edmund admitted. "I can barely see beyond the yard." He looked down at Giles who was shivering and covered with sweat, wondering if the man had seen something. He pondered if some new thing had revealed itself to Giles at the window that so frightened him that he might have attempted to leave his bed. But as he considered Giles' fearless behavior earlier in the day, he furrowed his brow in dissatisfaction. Would such a man do so?
Elanore rubbed her eyes as she focused her attention back on her patient. "At least whatever spill he took did not result in more injuries. But his complexion appears rather toxic." She had a guilty air about her as she confessed, "I probably should have given him that medicine I was offered."
"I'm sure you had good reason not to," Edmund offered.
Elanore sighed. "I was instructed to give him that verbena after a good meal. But he seems rather poor in color that I wonder if I should wait."
Edmund did not know how to respond. Medicines were to him as foreign a topic as women's fashions and he could not counsel her or know how to assist her as she fetched something from one of the neglected baskets sitting in the room.
He simply observed as Elanore prepared the strange medicine, pouring it into a wooden bowl and evaluating the medicine. "It's not all that common down south, but it is generally valued as a cleansing purifying sort of medicine. It should help him rid himself of whatever it is that seems to be ailing him if I could manage to make him drink it."
"I'll hold him for you," Edmund found her rambling charming.
She brightened a bit and then waited as Edmund lifted and maintained the man in an upright position. He watched as Elanore cautiously held out a small wooden bowl filled with the strange sweet smelling liquid near the patient's nose.
The smell was powerful and calming. Giles' groaning ceased and he did not resist when Elanore raised the bowl and poured its contents into his open mouth.
The man's shivering gradually eased. Once it was clear that the liquid would stay down, Elanore carefully assisted Edmund with propping Giles more comfortably against a backdrop of pillows and cushions.
After a time, Giles opened his eyes slightly. He looked directly at Elanore, his voice was gravelly and rough as he coughed out a few words. "My thanks. I feel much better."
She looked pained by his words, perhaps feeling undeserving of them. "I should have given it to you sooner."
"No," Giles clutched a blanket to him, looking uneasily at the window. "As helpful as it is for this chronic pain I have, it tends to deaden my reactions and my senses." He looked pointedly at Edmund. "Things are lurking in the woods outside."
"What did you see?" Both Edmund and Elanore asked.
"I don't know," Giles had squeezed his eyes again, clearly tired. "But I saw a pair of eyes at the window. Some feral beast."
Elanore gasped softly while Edmund glanced at the window thoughtfully. "What manner of creature was it?"
It was not normal for most beasts to bother with humans unless they were particularly hungry. Granted, this year was a rather unusual exception.
"I don't know," Giles spoke tightly. "I've been half-delirious so I couldn't really tell. Bear? Wild dog?"
"A lion?" Edmund gave him a grim smile.
"Hah," Giles responded, but his voice did not sound all that amused. "No. As if I would be afraid of such a beast."
Edmund would have preferred that Giles had answered otherwise. The growing numbers of bizarrely aggressive creatures with the tendency to approach humans was troubling. Edmund would have pressed for more information had it not been for Elanore's fingers pulling on his arm. "That's enough for now," she looked up at Edmund with her large, brown eyes. "You said you couldn't see anything so it must be gone by now. Let him rest until the morning then. We can discuss it then, after he's had more sleep."
Edmund nodded, unhappy to simply dismiss the topic of the alleged creature at the window. But he could not bring himself to argue with Elanore, instead resigning himself to pursuing his questions in the morning. At least then he could venture outside to examine the area outside the window further and make more sense of the situation, if there was sense to be made.
He was quiet as he followed Elanore back out into the hallway, mulling over Giles' rather irrational behavior throughout the course of the day. He considered that Giles' story could be simply the delusions of a half-ill man, hallucinating a creature at the window.
As for Elanore, she said nothing more of Giles as they drifted back into the kitchen. She was obviously thinking of other things, pulling him along in the direction of a leftover pie that had been left in the warming rack. She looked rather childishly pleased as she immediately took it out from its place and set to dividing it. With great enthusiasm, she thrust a plate at him and forced him to eat the majority of the pie. It was, like the other things she had made before, distinctly horrible.
But as unworthy a pie it may have been, he smiled as he ate it. He forgave her for its inferiority and she rewarded him for his forbearance with pleasant chatter and many smiles. They talked about books and random fairy tales and even the strange lady visitor to the shop while Elanore lovingly tended his wounds.
Edmund retired that night a much happier (although thoroughly full) young man. He would sleep well on the chair in the parlor, for no wild dogs, stone lions or random bears would disturb him. In fact, there was not a creature stirring outside the house save an owl, sitting in the treetops nearby.
Unlike Edmund, who could not see in the darkness beyond the window, the winged bird found no difficulty with seeing at night. It sat with one eye open as it watched the home as it had been instructed to do. Carefully it noted the various goings on of the home, including the event that had happened before the pale young man had come into the room and shut the window.
It sat on its perch long after the house had grown quiet. It sat until the bearded man returned to the window, his eyes again probing the darkness– eyes that changed from green to gold.