River Runs Deep Read Online Free PDF

Elias stared back, took in the dark circles under the man’s eyes, the bony fingers. And he wondered if maybe he weren’t like Merlin just a bit. Merlin was said to have retreated to a cave after Arthur died. And if the doctor did manage to cure him, it would be magic to rival that of the old stories. Magic to no longer hear the crackling in his lungs, feel the frequent pain in his side, or be seized by coughing spells, or bouts of fever. Magic to not feel so spent all the time, to want to eat the food put in front of him instead of forcing it down.
    â€œA poultice twice a day, I think,” the doctor announced finally. “Wild ramps fried in goose fat.”
    Elias’s shoulders relaxed with relief. Granny put poultices on him all the time. They weren’t any bother except for making him a little greasy.
    â€œYou haven’t been out in the cave much, the Negroes tell me,” Dr. Croghan said.
    Elias bit his lip but said nothing. If the others hadn’t told about Elias wandering into the cave last night, he wasn’t about to.
    â€œI think I’ll take you with me on my rounds next week,” the doctor said. “That way I can observe you and see how you do with the increased activity. I wonder if inhaling more of the cave air might incite a more rapid healing. A brisk walk should get you respirating at a more rapid pace.”
    â€œWhy aren’t Nedra and the others going for walks, then?”
    Croghan exhaled loud and slow. “Many of my patients arrived here already too weak for the activity, Nedra included. Pennyrile used to be more active, walking his birds up toward the entrance to release them, but with the scrofula at his neck and not so much in his lungs, the more vigorous breathing may be less effective.”
    â€œScrofula?” Elias asked. “That’s why he keeps his neck wrapped up?”
    â€œYes,” Croghan said. “Sometimes they call it the King’s Evil. In Europe in the Middle Ages they believed it could be cured by the touch of a king or a queen. Ridiculous, but it became the custom. Nothing at all to do with real medicine, of course. At any rate, poor Pennyrile is losing weight rapidly and his spirits seem low. I’m encouraged he gave you the bird, to be honest. Perhaps making a friend will do you both good.”
    Elias chose not to explain how he came to be Bedivere’s protector. Doing so would have required him to reveal how he’d found him in the first place. “So what do you do for scrofula?” he asked instead.
    Croghan seemed eager to be off. “The bear fat and whale oil compound on his neck attacks the growth from without, but the silence cure is the first line—”
    â€œSilence!” Elias said. “ That’s why he don’t say nothing!”
    â€œYes, Elias, that is why he doesn’t say anything .”
    Elias thought on how a lost voice was one more thing added to the pile of the many already taken away in the name of healing.
    â€œEat your eggs.” Dr. Croghan snapped shut his leather bag. “You need to keep up your strength.”
    *  *  *
    Though he wasn’t the least bit hungry—he never really was anymore—Elias forced himself to eat half of his eggs. Bedivere seemed even less inclined to eating, but Elias reasoned it less to do with appetite: He needed feed for the bird.
    â€œBe right back, fella,” he said, worrying—and maybe hoping—that the bird might try to follow him like Charger would have. But Bedivere, roosting on the back of the wooden chair, just stared blankly, cooed once, and let Elias go.
    Elias dashed across the clearing, glancing at Nedra’s window. She was bent over her knitting, the lamp drawn close.
    At Pennyrile’s hut, he tapped on the doorframe. “Mr. Pennyrile?” he called out softly. Now that he knew the man was not meant to speak, it made his silence a little less unnerving, but still,