Brightly Burning by Mercedes Lackey Page B

irrestistible tug toward sleep took over where the euphoria ended. He didn’t even try to fight it.
    When he woke, it was broad daylight, and the headache was still with him, although it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been last night. The hot-bag had slipped off his head and onto the floor during the night; he opened his eyes just long enough to tell that it was, indeed, morning. He thought about taking a second dose of medicine, but his stomach rumbled and that decided him against it. He wanted something to eat first; then he’d let the medicine knock him over.
    He smelled the frying ham and bacon of breakfast cooking downstairs, and his stomach rumbled again, insistently. Should I get up and go downstairs? he wondered. But Mother wanted me to stay in bed so I wouldn’t spread this to the rest of the family. . . .
    He didn’t have to make that decision, for a bump at his door made him open his eyes again. The maid stood there with a tray; she grinned when she saw his eyes open. And now he finally remembered her name. Kelsie.
    â€œGood mornin’ sirrah,” she said brightly. “I brung up some supper last night, but you couldn’t have been budged with a team of horses!”
    She brought over her tray and placed it on a stool next to his bed. He sat up, and managed a weak smile. “I guess that medicine was as strong as you said.”
    â€œThey say he’s Healer-trained, is Master Veth, so I suppose he knows his medicines.” Kelsie dismissed the herbalist and his remedies with a shrug. “I brought a bell on the tray there; you need something, you ring it and I’ll come up.”
    â€œThank you,” was all he had a chance to say. She just grinned again, and was gone. Then again, given the housekeeper’s firm hand on the household reins, lingering might get her in trouble.
    On the tray was typical invalid fare: tea and buttered toast, soft-boiled eggs. No ham, no bacon, no jam or jelly. He sighed, but tackled the food anyway. Hungry as he was, it all tasted good.
    Only then did he take a second dose—slightly smaller this time—of the medicine, and it wasn’t long before he was dreaming again.
    This time he woke, it was some time in the afternoon, and his headache was measurably better, though still with him. More persistent was his hunger.
    He rang the bell, and within moments, Kelsie was at his door with another tray, brown eyes dancing merrily at him from beneath her frilled cap. “Cook’s figured you’d be ready for this,” she said, putting it down beside him.
    He eyed the contents. Bread and broth, more tea. “I am, but I could eat a whole loaf of bread, not just a couple of slices,” he said ruefully. His stomach made an audible growl, and he blushed as she laughed.
    â€œWell, the sayin’ is to feed a fever, and you got a fever. You eat that up, I’ll run down and tell Cook and see what she figures is good for you.” She turned in a swirl of gray-and-cream woolen skirts and linen apron, and vanished, while he made short work of the invalid’s lunch they’d given him.
    It only just took the edge off his hunger. When Kelsie labored back to his door under the weight of a heavier tray, he’d already eaten every crumb.
    â€œHere,” she laughed, setting down the heavier tray, then tucking a stray curl of brown hair back under her cap. “ ‘Fever, Cook,’ I told her. ‘Not stomach troubles. I should think you could hear his stomach grumbling down here.’ So she laughs, and fixes you this.” Kelsie dusted off her hands. “Now, I got sweeping to do, so I’ll hear you if you need aught else.”
    â€œI’ll be fine,” he replied, but she was already gone.
    This is more like it! he thought; it was real food, not invalid’s food, and not the leftovers from everyone else’s lunch, either. It was twice what he normally ate, but he devoured every bite