The next morning found Rhoa hauling two buckets of clay up the scaffold, following Tettony, who was carrying their trowels, mortar boards, kneeling pads, and lanterns.

They reached the end of the section her mother had just finished and began setting up to mud the next thirty feet of wall by mid-day, sliding easily into the rhythm of working in tandem.

For several hours, the only sounds were the slap of wet clay on stone and the scrape of their trowels as they filled in every chink and crack and joint in the tower wall. Then, with only a few yards left to go and the promise of a hot meal waiting for them in the kitchen, the shrill, raucous warning calls of the breikroost birds had Rhoa frowning and lowering her trowel.

She looked at Tettony. "There must be something in the woods."

Tettony met her gaze for a moment, her blue eyes intense with realization, then she leaned sideways a little to peer through a gap in the shroud. From their position on the scaffold, she could see over the curtain wall and down into the forest below the fortress. She squinted and leaned closer to the gap, focusing on something.

"It's a man... on foot. No horse or livery... but..." Her nose wrinkled a little in concentration. Then her eyes widened and she clambered abruptly to her feet, stepping quickly around her bucket and over Rhoa's calves before taking off down the ramp at a risky sprint.

"It's Phane!" She called over her shoulder. "Get your mother and meet us by the tunnel, he's wounded!"

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"Hold his head, hold his head!" Tettony's sharp order was punctuated by the repeated thump of Phane's skull against the edge of the medical room table.

Rhoa got a better grip on the bite-strap and dropped to her haunches, using her weight as well as all of her strength to keep her big brother from convulsing off the table and onto the floor as their mother worked to cinch him into the restraints. Phane had a full five stone on her, though, and he was brutally strong. The next spasm sent him arching violently backwards, and her feet slipped over the floorboards for a moment before she wrestled him back down.

"There!" her mother gasped, finally yanking the chest restraint tight.

Breathing hard, Rhoa released her white-knuckled hold on the bite-strap handles and stared at her brother's sweat-slick face, her heart in her throat as he let out an agonized groan behind the strip of leather in his mouth.

"That's three doses of the antidote," Tettony muttered, her movements quick and efficient as she pulled the stopper out of another vial of amber liquid, emptying it into the hollow end of a sharpened pigeon quill she had inserted under the skin of Phane's left arm.

Phane's breathing went harsh and he closed his eyes, his teeth clenching into the bite-strap as the antidote worked its way into his blood.

Tettony took a step back, worry etching her face. "If I give him any more it may stop his heart." She shook her head. "He should have responded by now. There's obviously a sting on his thigh, but it's too recent to be this far gone already. This... honestly, this looks more like the first stage of the Rot."

Rhoa's mother was standing there by the side of the table, absolutely calm as she absorbed that information. Then she bent, bracketing Phane's face gently between her hands. "Phane, can you hear me? Phane... look at me. Blink once if you can hear me."

Phane let out a groan, but opened pain-dazed, bloodshot eyes and blinked, slowly. Once.

"Good. Are the others in trouble?"

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, his gaze focusing on her with sudden intensity. He blinked harder. Once.

"Did you come here to tell us?"

Another blink.

"Do they need help?"

Another blink, this one accompanied by a gurgled, unintelligible sound as Phane's body finally stopped fighting. With a drawn-out sigh he went limp, his eyes rolling and showing white as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Thank you," she whispered, placing a kiss on Phane's forehead. Then she straightened and looked at Rhoa and Tettony, clearly weighing her options.

Rhoa swallowed.

After a moment her mother nodded, coming to a decision. "Pack your medical kit. Whatever you think you'll need," she said to Tettony. "And show Rhoa what she needs to do to care for Phane until we get back. Rhoa, I'll need your help readying the horses when you're done here. Move quickly. We need to leave on the hour, or we won't make the first campsite before dark."

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The light of her mother's lantern shrank to the size of a hand in the dark of the tunnel, then disappeared entirely as she and Tettony went around the first bend.

Rhoa closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Let it out between tightened lips. Then she shook her head. This wasn't going to change anything. She and Orla could finish mudding the tower. She would walk two extra rounds on the wall. Her father and brothers would be fine. Her mother and Tettony would find them and bring them back before the Warmoon waxed full.

She just had to hang on until tomorrow.

False optimism did not sit well. 

With a heavy sigh, she leaned on the trigger stone in the rear wall of the stable. The secret panel rotated on silent, well-oiled hinges, closing with the faint 'snick' of a hidden latch. She made sure it was shut all the way, took up her own lantern and left, crossing the stable yard to the unloading bay and entering through the empty Soaking Room.

The Lye Room was silent.

The Sifting Room was still and dark, the furnace unlit, and the chill of the cold stone floor wrapped around her feet before she turned and headed up the stairs to the kitchen.

The very quiet kitchen.

Orla must have gone upstairs to help with the children while Gran tended Phane.

Weariness tugged at Rhoa's shoulders, and that ever-present headache surged, pounding in time with her heartbeat. Grinding her teeth, she doused her lantern, put it on the table, then went back down to the Sifting Room, where she pulled on her father's armor, then headed out into the rain to do her first round on the parapet.

She had never felt quite so alone.

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