Conaed, called Runt, was laying on one of the packs piled onto the zebra's back, while the bird Teehar'owan sat on the bridle between the equine's ears. Conaed didn't like riding; in fact, he had been sick much the first day. But Teehar enjoyed having a place to rest that still allowed him to keep up with his companions.
"Have courage, Runt," Medb teased, "we are almost home." The Zoog merely issued a moaned curse, which elicited an amused whistle from Teehar.
Smiling broadly, Medb started down the hill. Actually, she knew something of how the Zoog felt. She preferred chariots to horseback riding, and while she had learned equitation during her exile from Erin, she had found no horses in the Lands of Dream so far, and though strong and compact, she considered zebras too small for her to ride. As such, she used them as pack animals only. Still, they were perfect for it. Though not as fast as a horse and rider at full gallop, they could maintain the rapid travel pace she preferred, and their stamina was enormous.
As she approached the gate, she spotted a young tomcat sitting between the two waist-high wood posts on either side of the road. It had bronze stripes on a fawn colored coat and a stocky, rangy build. It seemed to be waiting for something, and as soon as it caught sight of her it ran toward her as fast as it could go.
"Teehar, is that not Cremedevoyageur?"
The sharp-eyed bird piped in surprise. "Yes, Mistress, and he seems extremely agitated."
Indeed, she could see that the bird was right, because the cat rushed towards them as if a pack of hounds was after him. He slammed to a halt at her feet as only cats had the agility to do and looked up at her, his dust-blue eyes wide with excitement and alarm. "Madam," he cried, in the caterwauling tone he used when upset, "there's been trouble. Bofland asks that you come to the inn immediately!"
Medb was visibly taken aback, one of the few times her emotions overrode her self-control. Bofland was the wife of Eberhard, master of the Inn of the Quixotic Muse. From their first encounter a few months ago, when Medb had arrived in the Lands of Dream, the two women had developed an abiding dislike for one another, despite the grudging respect she felt for the inn-matron. For Bofland to actually ask Medb to come to her was consequential. That and Crème's discomposure suggested that whatever the nature of the trouble it was serious.
Using a grim frown to hide her jolt, she said, "Then let us not keep her waiting."
The inn was deserted, which was very unusual for mid-morning. What was more unusual was Bofland's reaction when Medb came into the common room. Normally the two women treated each other with cold disdain, but the inn-matron actually roughly embraced Medb, saying, "Thank goodness you're back!"
And what shocked Medb the most was when Bofland pulled away and she saw she had been crying. Medb never considered that the large, tough-minded, belligerent woman was able to cry. That alone was enough to convince her that something was indeed seriously wrong.
Bofland wasted no time, but hurried Medb to an upstairs room. There she found the three dwarves; Anglid in the bed, the brothers Graym and Gimpel on either side, holding each of his hands in their own. Graym was gruffly trying to hold back tears, but Gimpel cried openly, if softly.
Medb rushed to the bed, and was relieved to see that Anglid was still alive. Her relief vanished, however, when she felt his face; he was burning with fever, and she saw that his neck was swollen. She pulled back the bed sheet and found he was naked except for numerous bandages covering his arms, chest, abdomen, and legs.
She stood long enough to throw off her cloak without bothering to undo the bronze brooch. "Gimpel; Gimpel! Snap out of it!" Startled by her tone, the dazed dwarf looked up at her. "Go heat some water and fetch some cooking brandy. Now, move!" Still whimpering, he scuttled off as fast as he could run.
"Graym," she said, for once grateful for the other brother's contumelious nature, "fetch my healer's bag from the zebra -- Runt can tell you which it is -- and fresh bandages, too."
"I'm on it," he declared firmly and followed his brother out the door.
"We cleaned his wounds," Bofland explained as Medb sat down on the bed, "and change his bandages every day, but he only seems to get worse." Her voice cracked on the last words.
Medb nodded absently, and checked the bandages. There was some slight swelling, but no sign of any bloody or pustulant discharge.
"What happened?" she asked over her shoulder.
Anglid, alone and in this condition, was inexplicable. When Medb had left ten days ago, he, Eberhard, and Laylina had accompanied her. Every year, Eberhard took a trip to Drinen to renew his orders for the wines and liqueurs he served at the inn; except for rare vintages from Sarrub, beers, ales, and hardened spirits from the Six Kingdoms, and the fire-mead whose source he kept a closely guarded secret, all the inn's beverages came from the vineyards that covered the Karthian Hills on the west side of the Desert of Cuppar-Nombo. The winegrowers brokered their product in Drinen, so it wasn't necessary for a buyer to travel throughout the hills to get what he needed. Still, Eberhard took his time selecting the vintages he wanted to buy, since he desired only the best, and considering how many vineyards there were it often took him a couple of weeks before he was satisfied.
He always took Anglid or Graym, and he was always accompanied by Fynris the Hunter, Rahniel the Bard, or Arollo the Ranger. This year, however, all three were previously engaged and could not come along. Normally a practical man, Eberhard nonetheless had a few superstitions (though he would say, as he often did, it was only prudent to heed intuitions that had proven themselves prophetic), one of which was to always have two companions on these annual trips. Bofland had to stay to run the inn, and she needed both Graym and Gimpel with Anglid away, so he asked Laylina to come with him. He thought it was time she saw more of the world, or at least their little corner of it, and if she might not be much help with selecting wine, at least there was plenty in Drinen to keep her occupied.
Medb remembered that the serving girl had been very excited about the trip, especially at the prospect of touring the sites of Drinen. "I've heard stories about the Pleasure Quarter," she told her with naughty excitement, as they undressed in the loft above the barn.
In preparation for the trip, Eberhard had asked Medb to teach Laylina how to fight barehanded, since he knew that the former queen was a master of many forms of martial arts. Medb had demurred at first, explaining that her method of training would require that she and Laylina be nude, and there was no place suitable for training that was also private. Eberhard was more puzzled than shocked by her statement, so she took the time to explain herself. Of the four races of Erin that she called her own, three -- the Hibernians, the Fir Bholg, and the Gaels -- practiced heroic nudity, which was fighting without armor or clothes, at best with just a shield, helmet, belt, and sandals. Because of their fewer numbers, the Tuathe Dé Danann preferred light but extremely strong armor, and when they developed chainmail even the Gaels abandoned the tradition, but the Hibernians and the Fir Bholg never did, and only their chiefs and kings wore any kind of protective covering. Medb had been trained in Danann martial arts, but she had found the use of armor cumbersome and restrictive, and she had admired the courage and honor of the other two races, so she deliberately adopted the tradition of heroic nudity for the freedom of movement it offered, and the bravado. It had by now come to the point where she considered anyone who fought with any form of protective clothing, particularly heavy armor of mail and plate, to be cowardly and without honor. Thus not only did she prefer to fight that way, she insisted upon training others that way as well.
Eberhard was not offended by her explanation, and the next day suggested the loft in the barn. After inspecting it, Medb had agreed it was suitable; not only was it well away from prying eyes, the layer of loose straw on the floor was thick enough to cushion falls. For her part, Laylina not only agreed to the training, but looked forward to it eagerly, and she was not in the least bit self-conscious over being naked with the libertine woman. Medb had never completely gotten over her infatu
ation for Laylina's exotic body, and she had had some concern at first over how she would respond to the close personal contact, especially with the wrestling lessons. Fortunately, her friendship for the girl had buried her lust under a true abiding affection, and once they settled into a routine all her worries had vanished.
"I have been there," Medb replied as she shrugged off her dress. She never ceased to be fascinated by the girl's reaction to such things. While hardly a naive virgin, Laylina nonetheless had little experience in the ways of the flesh in the greater world around her, and so she often expressed curiosity rather than prudish shock or titillation when discussing such matters. As a matter of fact, she found Medb's stories of her sexual exploits fascinating, and often amusing.
"Tell me about it," Laylina begged, as they began their stretching and warm-up exercises. They had by then done them so often they could repeat them without conscious thought.
Medb gave her a look of mock reluctance. "You are too young for such debauchery."
Laylina tried to return a look of mock outrage, but failed because she was too excited. "And I suppose it's just right for a wanton such as yourself?"
There were times when Laylina's