A Million Roads to Nowhere

Down the Way

"Uh, hello," he greets.

Signe jumps and turns around, relaxing once she sees him.

"Patrick! There you are, haven't seen you since this morning."

Patrick smiles sheepishly. Signe's nice, but he's not spoken much to her. Most of their conversations have consisted of her rambling and him listening. When nervous in conversation, she talks incessantly. Lena makes her nervous.

"I didn't see you at noon meal," Patrick answers.

Signe shrugs her shoulders. "The Lady had us eat with her. We couldn't step out of it with us coming back not long ago."

"I understand." Patrick nods. "I was just worried you got hurt."

Signe giggles. "Oh, no. Rozenn wouldn't hurt us."

Patrick's not too sure about that one, but he nods his assent and follows her into the connecting second room.

"Aodhan and William will be back soon," she says. "I'm sure you're looking for them, not me."

A blush creeps up Patrick's neck. "I- um-"

Signe laughs. "It's fine. You can help me organize jars while we wait."

Patrick takes the box of jars from Signe's hands. The movement causes the glasses to brush against each other, clinking loudly.

"What are these for?" he asks.

"Ointments, tinctures, potions, and other medical supplies." Signe jerks her thumb to the back of the room where a large wooden crate full of putrid smelling jars sits. "It doesn't look like whoever was here before took care of this place."

She's right; the main treatment room smells rancid. The jars not yet taken off the shelves are blackened, rotting. Despite the filth on the shelves, tables, and bed, the room doesn't look disturbed.

"It doesn't look like Rozenn put anyone in here at all," Patrick says.

Signe grimaces. "She must have stuck to simple, immediate things, and kept all medical practices strictly to the camps."

What a waste, Patrick thinks. Maybe no one knew how to use the stuff in here?

Of course, the more he thinks about it, the less that makes sense. What are the odds not one person in Chourmondeley knows how to use at least one of the supplies? Signe seems to know something, so why couldn't Rozenn have called her in?

Patrick takes the clean jars and places them on the parts of the shelves that have been cleared off. He's grateful for the busy work, although the longer he's alone with Signe, the more uncomfortable he gets.

He glances over at her, where she's scraping the insides of jars out one of the windows. The sour smell slowly begins to dissipate.

Signe tosses her braid over her shoulder as she turns around to grab more jars, and Patrick quickly looks away so as to avoid eye contact. Signe's dull brown skirts swish across the stone floor, shoes clicking softly as she walks.

Patrick sets one of the empty crates aside and reaches for the jars on the top shelf. He wrinkles his nose as he brings them closer to him, quickly depositing them on the floor. Signe snatches them up and dumps the contents out the window. They work quietly and methodically, and by the time Aodhan and William walk in, the room is mostly finished.

"There you are," Signe greets cheerfully, wiping her face with her apron. "Patrick's been kindly helping me with the room since you two disappeared off to who-knows-where."