Unquiet Dreams by K. A. Laity Read Free Book Online Page A

Colburga busied herself selecting herbs while her eyes kept straying over to the prone body of Hild's mother.
    Someone had poisoned this woman. Someone had poisoned this woman, who by all appearances had nothing. That was the strange thing, Colburga thought, admit it. Kings were poisoned, bishops, queens, reeves even—but poor mothers with a little child and no husband to protect them? It seemed absurd.
    Hild was back within a quarter hour, arms laden with a hasty assemblage of sticks and a single log that threatened to topple her tiny frame. "They wanted to know where I got pennies and I told them the dragon lady!" In no time the fire roared and the cauldron began to warm. Colburga showed Hild the order in which to add the herbs to the pot. "I know Father Wulfraed would not like this, but before you add each one, remember to say 'Praise Nerthus' by way of thanks." What the good father didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "I'm going to go to the abbey to get some wine and honey," she told the child. "We'll need them for the healing. Keep an eye on the pot and don't let it come to a full boil. Can you shift it off the fire if you need to?" Hild nodded vigorously, and Colburga left her watching the pot with intense gravity.
    Poor kid, Colburga thought as she quickened her pace toward the abbey. Well, no doubt the monks would give her a good home if things continued as they were. The walk to the abbey seemed far too long tonight. Brother Oswald was at the gate with his jolly grin, but his mood darkened as he quickly grasped the gravity of her request and trotted off to find Abbot Ælfric. "He's probably in the scriptorium, catching the last of the day's light," he assured her. She sat on the visitor's bench to watch the other monks pass to and fro. It seemed to be between the regular hours of prayer, those regular intervals when the bells would ring out across the meadows, sometimes even—when the wind was right—up to the entrance of the cave.
    Colburga was impatient, so it seemed much longer than it was until the Abbot arrived, trailed by another monk with a large missal and some scraps of parchment held before him. The Abbot greeted her warmly and introduced his compatriot. "This is Father Wulfraed, lately returned to us from Canterbury. I sent Oswald to fetch some wine and honey, but do you have enough horehound?"
    She nodded to the Abbot and had barely taken in the other monk when he finally looked up from his responsibilities. When he did, her heart leapt up in her throat.
    His eyes.
    That blue, shiny blue, impossible blue, bird-egg blue that Hild had—it was there, too. His perfunctory smile of welcome did not reach the eyes. The look that gave the child a breathless innocence, here took on the coldness of a predator. "Recently returned?" she finally croaked, her throat still too full of her fluttering heart. He was the one who recommended dragon's blood to the child. Perhaps it was not an idle suggestion.
    The abbot clapped a companionable hand on the monk's shoulder before he answered her. "This was before you came here, Colburga—maybe five years ago, yes, Wulf?"
    "Seven," he answered with a smile as toothy and sharp as his namesake. "I hated to leave such a welcoming home."
    Colburga felt a chill move through her. Was she only imagining it? But he must have overheard what she had come for and known she was attempting to turn the poison. If it were he who— but how could she prove such a thing? Brother Oswald came returned just then with a brisk step, a bottle of wine and a pot of fresh honey, handing them over with haste and a blessing.
    "Is there anything else you need?" the abbot asked with a frown, as if he were sure he had forgotten something. Father Wulfraed's frown spoke of plans foiled—or did it? Colburga cursed her sudden certainty. Eyes, that's all she had, eyes. Blue, blue eyes like she had never seen—but now she had seen them twice in one day.
    She said, "I have everything I