But none of that seemed to matter much right now. For the first time since she had arrived on this world, no fears or doubts or insecurities plagued her -- just that nagging persistent itch in her head that had come again. Reaching up a slender hand, she scratched vigourously at one of her temples.
*Dear Goddess* came a sudden realization *I do believe I've had a wee dram too many. I've never gotten drunk on just _one_ drink. Or was it more than one and I've forgotten ?*. She shrugged, deciding that it didn't really matter.
*Oh Gwenn*, Kay thought to herself, giggling and feeling very silly indeed, *If only you'd been there. It was ever so exciting. I wish that you could have come out drinking with me*. But the recruits among the Guards had to mind a curfew. Getting Gwenn into trouble for curfew violation would have been wrong.
*If he got stuck with a week of kitchen duty, (or worse) then I'd have to volunteer to help him*, Kay reminded herself, *But if it was stable duty, that could even be FUN. If nothing else, it would give me a chance to hang around horses*. She was not such a fool as to fancy even _considering_ trying to explain to Gwenn's commanding officer about why (or how) she had led one of his recruits astray. No outfit she owned would be armour enough for THAT.
*But clothing DOES make a big difference here*, Kay chuckled softly, *and the tied-up hair under the hood of my cloak*. It had felt GOOD to walk about boldly. Nobody had paid much attention to what appeared to be a boy who was entirely too nondescript, scrawny and poor-looking to be worth bothering -- for ANY reason. Such self-satisfied thoughts made for light steps past buildings that seemed to be growing increasingly blurry around the edges.
Kay stopped and rubbed her eyes, convinced that they must be playing tricks on her. The itch was getting worse, she noticed, giving it another vigorous scratch. That didn't help much. Either it was a figment of a drunken imagination, or the worsening itch was now somehow INSIDE her head and getting worse.
Fortunately, her yoga studies had taught her how to deal with small aches. Maybe this would have more effect. Irritably, she felt for one of the lines of qi that ran through her head. Sometimes it helped to visualize stroking it free of any obstruction (like clearing a stream of windfall after a storm) until the energy flowed smoothly. Almost absentmindedly, she started doing this, reaching gently for the worst itch, the one in her head.
Sharp knives of pain lanced abruptly through the right side of Kay's chest, shattering her concentration as a shocked cry of fear and pain tore loose from her throat. Under the impact, she staggered sideways into an alley and fell hard against the wall of the nearest building. Various co-workers had often offered warnings of evils that stalked the night. Had one of them managed to catch her unaware ?
But the alley lay deserted -- except for the soft hoot of an unseen owl, the rustling of wings, and the sounds of something very small rummaging through a pile of rubbish further down the alley. Yet Kay's every instinct screamed that there WERE unseen others nearby. Who then had struck her ? And why ? And with what ? All she understood was that this neighbourhood was NOT the sort of place that was safe to walk through with a mind full of pain and fear.
Ceroill Merrick was taking the night air, returning to his shop/home after a leisurely dinner out. Not that he ate out often, but he allowed the occasional splurge. The moons were beautiful, and the night was brisk. He noticed that odd almost itchy feeling that came so seldom, faint as always. He stopped at a corner, and stood close to the building to minimize his impediment to traffic.
Then, he closed his eyes, and tried to go through the exercises he had learned so long ago at Nevarsin: Slow the breathing, and make it regular; calm the mind, letting random thoughts float away; inner silence could help one hear unsounds. After a minute or two, he was certain, yes, someone was in distress, just down this next alley.
Raising one hesitant hand to her aching ribcage, Kay touched it very gingerly. Surprisingly, her fingers found no blood, and no knife or arrow. *O Goddess ... I don't understand*, she thought with great puzzlement, as she reached as lightly as possible to the line of qi that ran nearest there. This time, the contact caused the pain to blossom once more -- and worse than before. It bent her over in silent agony as she violently threw up the contents of he stomach. *Blessed Goddess, Mother of Mercy ... help me, I beg of you*, Kay screamed silently, *or at least take mercy on my soul*.
Opening his eyes again, Ceroill tried not to lose the tenuous contact, as he slowly approached the allyway. Turning to look within, he saw a young lad being ill, but he felt that he was not the sole source of the feeling. Whatever else was going on, the lad seemed to show symptoms of either food poisoning or threshold sickness.
He approached the boy (and the indistinct much-smaller shapes he spotted further down the alley) carefully, not making any hurried movements. He spoke softly and as comfortingly as he could. "Are you hurt lad? Ill? How can I help you?"
Kay looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. Her mouth opened automatically to say something, then abruptly shut again as a nagging thought popped up. She needed help, THAT much was certain. And the next person who found her, might not be so kind-hearted. But what if Mestru Merrick recognized her ? That might not neccessarily be a good thing ? What if Gwenn found out ? Explaining THIS little misadventure to HIM, would NOT be a pleasant experience. And what if Melissa or Dolo found out, and were horribly embarassed by it ?