It did not budge, and Zenith took that as a sign from the stars that she should not be here. She heaved a sigh of relief, let the handle go, and turned away.
"My Lady Zenith?" a polite voice inquired behind her.
Zenith's throat went suddenly, horribly dry, and she turned her head back to the door.
It was open now, and a birdman, one of the Lake Guard, stood there.
"My Lady?" he repeated, ever polite and deferential.
"I, ah, I wondered if I might, ah, see ..."
"Yes?"
"I wondered if I might spend a few minutes with Wolf Star."
There. The words were out. The action had been stated, even if the motives remained horrifyingly unclear.
"You want to see WolfStar? My Lord Axis has left very clear instructions that —"
"Surely they do not pertain to me?" Zenith said. "His daughter? Besides, I have heard that WolfStar is seriously ill, and I
thought —" What could she say? Everyone knew she was no Healer! "— that I might sit with him for a while, perhaps while he sleeps, and give the Healers some respite."
The guardsman hesitated, and glanced at someone over his shoulder.
Then he looked back at Zenith, nodded, and opened the door wide. "Please enter, my Lady."
Zenith clenched her hands amid her skirts, and walked in, carefully folding her wings so that they touched neither door frame nor guard.
She entered a small chamber. There were several chairs and stools scattered about, a chest, a table, and a wooden crate packed with bottles of unguents and herbal potions.
In the far wall was a closed door.
WingRidge CurlClaw sat on one of the stools, leaning back against the wall, his arms folded, his eyes steady as they gazed at her.
"What do you here, Zenith? I would have thought that you would be the last person to offer her services to WolfStar."
Zenith smiled, bright and artificial. She spread her arms wide and waggled her fingers. "Look! No knives!"
WingRidge continued to gaze at her. He did not smile.
Zenith's own face lost its feigned humour, and she let her arms fall to her sides. "WingRidge ...
please."
"Why?" He had not unfolded his arms, and his eyes were keener than ever.
"To put an end to it," she said. "I need to put an end to it."
WingRidge continued to stare a heartbeat longer, then he nodded and stood up. He stepped forward and gave Zenith a brief but warm hug. "I understand. He is asleep at the moment, but sleeps only lightly. You can wake him or not, as it pleases you."
"Is there anyone else in there?" Zenith eyed the door nervously.
"A Healer. Do you want me to ask her to leave?"
Zenith ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, then she jerked her head in a nod.
WingRidge looked at her. "I will be out here if you need me."
Zenith nodded, unable to speak, her eyes full of unshed tears.
WingRidge opened the door, and motioned the Healer out.
It was cool and dim inside, and Zenith jumped when WingRidge clicked the door closed behind her.
Had it woken WolfStar?
No...
There was no movement, and only the sound of slow, deep breathing from a bed placed close to the far wall.
The room reeked with the stench of infection.
Gods, Zenith thought, how ill is he?
She took a step forward, and then another when the sound of the breathing did not alter, and then jerked her eyes about the room, orientating herself.
A fireplace in the wall to her left, the fire damped down to the glow of coals.
