Free The Fire Dragon by Katharine Kerr Page B

rat is kneeling there beside you.”
    In the firelight Maddyn could see Oggyn's face blanch.
    “Spoiled rations, my liege,” Owaen went on, waving the bit of pork. “Your councillor there assigns the provisions, and I think me he gave the silver daggers the last of the winter's stores.”
    “What?” Oggyn squeaked. “No such thing! If you received spoiled food, then one of the servants made a mistake.” He glanced at Maryn. “Your Highness, if you'll release me, I'd best go have a look at the barrel that meat came from. I'll wager it doesn't have my mark upon it.”
    “I'll do better than that,” Maryn said, grinning. “I'll come with you. Lead on, captains.”
    Maddyn received a sudden portent of futility. No doubt Oggyn had been too clever to leave evidence lying about. The two silver daggers led the prince and his councillor back to their camp and the provision cart, where Garro and his da hauled down the offending barrel. By the light of a lantern Oggyn examined the lid with Maryn looking on.
    “Not a mark on it,” Oggyn said triumphantly. “Thisbarrel should have been emptied for the dun's dogs, not carted for the army.”
    “Well, make sure it's dumped now,” Maryn said. “But a fair bit away. I don't like the smell of it.”
    “Of course, Your Highness,” Oggyn said. “I'll have a replacement sent round from my personal stores.”
    All at once Maddyn wondered if he should have sampled the pork. Too late now, he thought, and truly, we've eaten worse over the years. He put the matter out of his mind, but it remained, alas, in his stomach. He woke well before dawn, rolled out of his blankets, and rushed for the latrine ditch just beyond the encampment. He managed to reach it before the flux overwhelmed his self-control.
    “Nevyn, my lord Nevyn!” The voice sounded both loud and urgent. “Your aid!”
    Through the tent wall a dim light shone.
    “What's all this?” Nevyn sat up and yawned. “Who is it?”
    “Branoic, my lord. Maddyn's been poisoned.”
    Nevyn found himself both wide-awake and standing. He pulled on his brigga, grabbed his sack of medicinals in one hand and a shirt in the other, and ducked through the tent flap. Branoic stood outside with a lantern raised in one hand.
    “He ate a bit of spoiled pork, Owaen told me,” Branoic said. “But it came from a barrel that Oggyn gave us.”
    Branoic led Nevyn to the bard's tent. Just outside, his clothes lay stinking in a soiled heap. Inside Nevyn found Maddyn lying naked on a blanket. The tent smelled of vomit and diarrhea. Owaen knelt beside him with a wet rag in one hand.
    “I've been wiping his face off,” Owaen said. “I don't think he's going to heave anymore.”
    “Naught left,” Maddyn whispered.
    “How do you feel?” Nevyn said.
    “Wrung out. My guts are cramping.”
    The effort of talking was making him shiver. Nevyn grabbed a clean blanket and laid it over him. In thelantern light his white face, marked with dark circles under his eyes, shone with cold sweat. Nevyn sent Owaen off to wake a servant to heat some water, then knelt beside his patient. Branoic hung the lantern from the tent pole and retreated.
    “Gods,” Maddyn mumbled. “I stink.”
    “Good,” Nevyn said. “Your body's flushing the contagion out. I'm going to make you drink herbwater, though, to ensure that every last bit's gone. It won't be pleasant, I'm afraid.”
    “Better than dying.”
    “Exactly.”
    Maddyn sighed and turned his face away. The stench hanging in the tent was free of the taint of poison, or at least, Nevyn thought, free of any poison he'd recognize. While he waited for the hot water to arrive, Nevyn sat back on his heels and opened his dweomer sight. Maddyn's aura curled tight around him, all shrunken and flabby, a pale brownish color shot with sickly green. Yet it pulsed, as if it fought to regain its normal size, and brightened close to the skin. Nevyn closed his sight.
    “You'll live,” Nevyn announced.
    “Good.” All at