There was.nothing but silence from the wardrobe.
"By God, I'm going to-," Leo began, but Miss Marks interrupted.
"It's digitalin powder."
Leo threw her a distracted glance. She had opened the vial and was sniffing it cautiously. "How do you know?"
"My grandmother used to take it for her heart. The scent is like tea, and the color is unmistakable."
"What's the antidote?"
"I have no idea," Miss Marks said, looking more distressed by the moment. "But it's a powerful substance. A large dose could very well stop a man's heart."
Leo turned back to the wardrobe. " Harrow," he bit out, "if you want to live, you'll tell me the antidote now."
"Let me out first," came the muffled reply.
"No negotiating! Tell me what counteracts the poison, damn you!"
"Never."
"Leo?" A new voice entered the fray. He turned swiftly to see Amelia, Win, and Beatrix at the threshold. They were staring at him as if he'd gone mad.
Amelia spoke with admirable composure. "I have two questions, Leo: Why did you send for me, and why are you having an argument with the wardrobe?"
" Harrow 's in there," he told her.
Her expression changed. "Why?"
"I'm trying to make him tell me how to counteract an overdose of digitalin powder." He glared vengefully at the wardrobe. "And I'll kill him if he doesn't."
"Who's taken an overdose?" Amelia demanded, her face draining of color. "Is someone ill? Who is it?"
"It was meant for Merripen," Leo said in a low voice, reaching out to steady her before he continued. "But Cam took it by mistake."
A strangled cry escaped her. "Oh God. Where is he?"
"The Gypsy campsite. Merripen's with him."
Tears sprang to Amelia's eyes. "I must go to him."
"You won't do him any good without the antidote."
Win brushed by them, striding to the bedside table. Moving with swift deliberation, she picked up an oil lamp and a tin matchbox, and brought them to the wardrobe.
"What are you doing?" Leo demanded, wondering if she had lost her wits entirely. "He doesn't need a lamp, Win."
Ignoring him, Win removed the glass fount and tossed it to the bed. She did the same with the brass wick burner, exposing the oil reservoir. Without hesitation, she poured the lamp oil over the front of the wardrobe. The pungent odor of highly flammable paraffin spread through the room.
"Have you lost your mind?" Leo demanded, astonished not only by her actions, but also by her calm demeanor.
"I have a matchbox, Julian," she said. "Tell me what to give Mr. Rohan, or I'll set the wardrobe on fire."
"You wouldn't dare," Harrow cried.
"Win," Leo said, "you'll burn the entire damned house down, just after it's been rebuilt. Give me the bloody matchbox."
She shook her head resolutely.
"Are we starting a new springtime ritual?" Leo demanded. "The annual buming-of-the-manse? Come to your senses, Win."
Win turned from him and glared at the wardrobe door. "I was told, Julian, that you killed your first wife. Possibly by poison. And now knowing what you have done to my brother-in-law, I believe it. And if you don't help us, I'm going to roast you like a piece of Welsh rarebit." She opened the matchbox.
Realizing she couldn't possibly be serious, Leo decided to back her bluff. "I'm begging you, Win," he said theatrically, "don't do this. There's no need to- Christl"
This last as Win struck a match and set the wardrobe on fire.
It wasn't a bluff, Leo thought dazedly. She actually intended to broil the bastard.
At the first bright, curling blossom of flame, there was a terrified cry from inside the wardrobe. "All right! Let me out! Let me out! It's tannic acid. Tannic acid. It's in my medical case; let me out!"
"Very well, Leo," Win said, a bit breathless. "You may extinguish the fire."
In spite of the panic that raced through his veins, Leo couldn't suppress a choked laugh. She spoke as if she'd asked him to snuff a candle, not put out a large flaming piece of furniture. Tearing off his coat, he rushed forward and beat wildly at the wardrobe door. "You're a madwoman," he told Win as he passed her.
"He wouldn't have told us otherwise," Win said.
Alerted by all the commotion, a few servants appeared, one of them a footman who removed his own coat and hastened to assist Leo. Meanwhile, the women were rummaging for Harrow 's black leather medical case.
"Isn't tannic acid the same as tea?" Amelia asked, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the latch.
"No, Mrs. Rohan," the governess said. "I believe the doctor was referring to tannic acid from oak leaves, not the tannins from tea." She reached out quickly as Amelia nearly overturned the case. "Careful, don't knock it over. He doesn't label his vials." Opening the hard-sided case, they found rows of neatly arranged glass tubes containing powders and liquids. Although the vials themselves were not marked, the slots they fit in had been identified with inked letters. Poring over the vials, Miss Marks extracted one filled with pale yellow-brown powder. "This one."
Win took it from her. "Let me take it to them," she said. "I know where the campsite is. And Leo's busy putting out the wardrobe."
"I'll take the vial to Cam," Amelia said vehemently. "He's my husband."
"Yes. And you're carrying his child. If you fell while riding at a breakneck pace, he would never forgive you for risking the baby."
Amelia gave her an anguished glance, her mouth trembling. She nodded and croaked, "Hurry, Win."
"Can you fashion a sling with canvas and poles?" Merripen asked the rom phuro. "I must get him back to Ramsay House."
The tribe leader nodded at once. He called out to a small group waiting near the entrance of the vardo, gave a few instructions, and they disappeared instantly. Turning back to Merripen, he murmured, "We'll have something put together in a few minutes."
Kev nodded, staring down at Cam 's ashen face. He wasn't well by any means, but at least the threat of convulsions and heart failure had been temporarily staved off. Robbed of his usual expressiveness, Cam looked young and defenseless.
It was peculiar to think that they were brothers and yet had spent their lives never knowing about each other. Kev had occupied his self-imposed solitude for so long, but lately it seemed to be wearing away, like a threadbare suit of clothes that was falling apart at the seams. He wanted to know more about Cam, to exchange memories with him. He wanted a brother. I always knew I wasn't supposed to be alone, Cam had told him on the day they discovered their blood ties. Kev had felt the same. He just hadn't been able to say it.
Taking up a cloth, he blotted the film of sweat from Cam 's face. A quiet whimper escaped Cam 's lips, as if he were a child having a nightmare.
"It's all right, phral," Kev murmured, putting a hand on Cam 's chest, testing the slow and lurching heartbeat. "You'll be well soon. I won't leave you."
"You are close to your brother," the rom phuro said softly. "That is good. Do you have other family?"
"We live with gadje," Kev said, his gaze daring the man to disapprove. The tribe leader's expression remained friendly and interested. "One of them is his wife."
"I hope she's not pretty," the rom phuro commented.
"She is," Kev said. "Why shouldn't she be?"
"Because one should choose a wife using the ears, not the eyes."
Kev smiled slightly. "Very wise." He glanced down at Cam again, thinking he was starting to look worse. "If they need help making the sling to carry him-"
"No, my men are fast. They'll be finished soon. But it must be made well, and strong, to carry a man of his size."
Cam 's hands were twitching, his long fingers plucking fitfully at the blanket they had put over him. Kev took the cold hand and gripped it firmly, trying to warm and reassure him.
The rom phuro stared at the visible tattoo on Cam 's forearm, the striking lines of the winged black horse.
"When did you meet Rohan?" he asked quietly.
Kev gave him a startled glance, his protective grasp tightening on Cam 's hand. "How do you know his name?"
The tribe leader smiled, his eyes warm. "I know other things as well. You and your brother were separated for a long time." He touched the tattoo with his forefinger. "And this mark… you have one, too."
Kev stared at him without blinking.
The sounds of a minor to-do filtered in from outside, and someone came pushing through the doorway. A woman. With surprise and concern, Kev saw the gleam of white-blond hair. "Win!" he exclaimed, carefully setting Cam 's hand down and coming to his feet. Unfortunately, he couldn't stand fully upright in the low-ceilinged vehicle. "Tell me you didn't come here alone. It's not safe. Why are you-"
"I'm trying to help." The skirts of Win's riding habit rustled stiffly as she hurried into the vardo. One of her hands was ungloved, and she was holding something in it. She didn't spare a glance for the rom phuro, she was so intent on reaching Kev. "Here. Here." She was breathing hard from riding to the camp at a breakneck pace, her cheeks flushed.
"What is it?" Kev murmured, gently taking the object from her, his free hand coming to rub her back. He looked down at a small vial filled with powder.
"The antidote," she said. "Give it to him quickly."
"How do you know it's the right medicine?"
"I made Dr. Harrow tell me."
"He might have been lying."
"No. I'm sure he wasn't, because at that moment he was nearly on f-I mean, he was under duress."
Kev's fingers closed around the vial. There wasn't much choice. They could wait until they consulted a trustworthy doctor, but from the look of it, Cam didn't have much time to spare. And doing nothing was not an option, either.
Kev proceeded to dissolve ten grains in a small quantity of water, reasoning that it was better to start with a weak solution rather than overdose Cam with yet another poison. He eased Cam to a sitting position, supporting him against his chest. Delirious and unsteady, Cam made a protesting noise as the movement sent new pain through his cramping muscles.
Although Kev couldn't see Cam's face, he saw Win's compassionate expression as she reached out to grip Cam 's jaw. She rubbed the frozen muscles and pried his mouth open. After tilting the liquid from a spoon into his mouth, she massaged his cheeks and throat, coaxing him to swallow. Cam downed the medicine and shuddered, and rested heavily against Kev.
"Thank you," Win whispered, stroking back Cam 's damp hair, flattening her palm against the side of his cold face. "You'll be better now. Lie easy, and let it take effect." Kev thought she had never looked as lovely as she did at that moment, her face soft with tender gravity. After a few minutes Win said quietly, "His color is improving."
And so was his breathing, the jagged rhythm lengthening and slowing. Kev felt Cam 's body relax, the clenched muscles softening as the active principles of the digitalis were neutralized.
Cam stirred as if he were waking from a long sleep. "Amelia," he said in an opium-slurred voice.
Win took one of his hands in hers. "She's quite well, and waiting for you at home, dear."
"Home," he repeated with an exhausted nod.
Kev lowered Cam carefully to the berth and looked over him in sharp assessment. The masklike pallor was vanishing second by second, healthy color returning to his face. The rapidity of the transformation was no less than astonishing.
The amber eyes cracked open, and Cam focused on Kev. "Merripen," Cam said in a tone so lucid that Kev was overcome with relief.
"Yes, phralT
"Am I dead?"
"No."
"I must be."
"Why?" Kev asked, amused.
"Because…" Cam paused to moisten his dry lips. "Because you're smiling… and I just saw my cousin Noah over there."
Chapter Twenty-two
The rom phuro came forward and knelt beside the berth. "Hello, Camlo," he murmured.
Cam regarded him with puzzled wonder. "Noah. You're older."
His cousin chuckled. "Indeed. The last time I saw you, you barely came up to my chest. And now you look as if you could be nearly a head taller than me."
"You never came back for me."
Kev broke in tautly. "And you never told him he had a brother."
Noah's smile turned regretful as he regarded them both. "I couldn't do either of those things. For your own protection." His gaze swerved in Kev's direction. "We were told you were dead, Kev. I'm glad to find out we were wrong. How did you survive? Where have you been living?"
Kev scowled at him. "Never mind about that. Rohan has spent years looking for you. Looking for answers. You tell him the truth now, about why he was sent away from the tribe, and what that cursed tattoo means. And don't leave anything out."
Noah looked mildly taken aback by Kev's autocratic manner. As the leader of the vitsa, Noah wasn't used to taking orders from anyone.
"He's always like this," Cam told Noah. "You get used to it."
Reaching beneath the berth, Noah pulled out a wooden box and began to rummage through its contents.
"What do you know about our Irish blood?" Kev demanded. "What was our father's name?"
"There is much I don't know," Noah admitted. Finding what he had evidently been looking for, he pulled it from the box and looked at Cam. "But our grandmother told me as much as she could on her deathbed. And she gave me this-"
He raised a tarnished silver knife.
In a lightning-swift reflex, Kev seized his cousin's wrist in a crushing grip. Win gave a startled cry, while Cam tried unsuccessfully to lift up on his elbows.
Noah stared hard into Kev's eyes. "Peace, Cousin. I would never harm Camlo." He let his hand open. "Take it from me. It belongs to you; it was your father's. His name was Brian Cole."
Kev took the knife and slowly released Noah's wrist. He stared at the object, a boot knife with a double-edged fixed blade approximately four inches long. The handle was silver, with engraving on the bolsters. It looked old and costly. But what amazed Kev was the engraving on the flat of the handle… a perfect stylized symbol of the Irish pooka.