She felt a few sprinkles around mid-afternoon, but then the rain stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief. But an hour later, the sky let go of the heavy raindrops it had been holding back. Gabe lifted his head and looked down at her. He gave her a lopsided smile when she turned to peer up at him. “It’s raining.”
Even when his eyes were bright with fever, he took her breath away. She lifted her hand to feel his forehead. He didn’t feel as warm as before, but it may have only been because of the cold rain falling on their heads. She was at least encouraged by his smile.
She noticed he was staring at her lips. She turned back around and bowed her head, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. This way she couldn’t see his face and neither of them could do anything foolish.
The rain was coming down steadily as they continued their trek through the heavily forested river valley. Walther didn’t slow their pace for the rain and Gingerbread continued to follow Walther’s black gelding.
Soon Sophie was soaked through. Her hair was plastered to her head and rain ran down her neck, over her face, everywhere. It was getting darker and colder. She wasn’t sure, but Gabe’s fever seemed to have lessened. He wasn’t radiating heat like he had been earlier this morning.
After riding in the rain for at least an hour, they came to the first house they’d seen in days. It was large — two stories — plastered white and painted all over with colorful flowers. The thatched roof looked dense enough to keep out the hardest rain.
Walther turned in his saddle and shouted, “I think this is it!” Rain dripped off his nose and slung off the ends of his hair when he turned.
If indeed this was the Cottage of the Seven, which Sophie prayed it was, it was very large. She hadn’t realized how tired she was, how much her shoulders ached and how miserable her cold, wet clothes felt until she anticipated having a safe place to stop and rest.
Behind her, Gabe began to shiver uncontrollably. Waves of shudders passed through his body.
O God, please let this be the place Petra told us about. Please let them invite us in. And please let there be someone here who will know what to do for Gabe.
They dismounted and Sophie helped Gabe walk to the door. He was shaking violently, and instead of looking flushed, he now looked pale. Walther knocked.
The door creaked open, but Sophie couldn’t see around Walther’s huge bulk.
“We’re looking for Dominyk the Wise and the Cottage of the Seven.”
“You’ve found both,” the gruff voice answered. “Who sent you? Why are you here?”
The voice seemed to be coming from down low, as if the person were squatting while he talked. Sophie tried to peer around Walther but couldn’t if she wanted to continue supporting Gabe.
“We were sent by Petra at Hohendorf Castle. She said you could offer us a safe place to sleep.” Walther stepped back and gestured toward Gabe. “This is Duke Wilhelm’s son Gabe. He’s injured and needs help.”
Sophie finally saw who had opened the door. It was a man, but he was shorter than any man she had ever seen. She was fairly certain she had heard stories of men like him, who were called dwarfs. He seemed to be about middle age, and he stared up at Walther with a crusty look on his face.
“Petra? How do you know her?”
“She is the cook for Duchess Ermengard of Hohendorf. She and this girl, Sophie, work together.”
The man scowled, then shifted his gaze to Sophie and Gabe. His harsh demeanor softened as he stared at them. “Very well.” He stepped back. “You may come in.”
Chapter 15
Gabe leaned heavily on Sophie as they walked inside. Sophie breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the cheerful room and the roaring fire in the large stone fireplace.
Then she realized the room was positively filled with men of all heights, ranging from Dominyk’s, who stood only as tall as Sophie’s waist, to a shaggy-haired giant standing at the rear of the room with his mouth open.
The men all stared at them. Then Dominyk barked out, “Siggy, Vincz, take this man” —Dominyk pointed at Gabe — “to the west room and give him dry clothes and put him to bed.”
Two average-sized men came toward them and, nudging her out of the way, half carried Gabe, one on each side, up the stairs at the left end of the large room.
Sophie watched them go, taking a step as if to follow them, unsure what to do. “His left shoulder is injured,” she called after them. One of the men turned back and stared at her. Then he turned around and continued up the steps with Gabe.
Another man, who wore a rough woolen tunic that went all the way to his ankles, similar to a monk’s garb, bowed his head and followed after them. His gait seemed unusual, and when Sophie looked down at his feet, the sight almost didn’t make sense to her. His feet were bare and misshapen, turned inward in such a way that he had to walk on the sides of his feet as if he were on stilts or clubs. He didn’t look up at her, and she was glad, since she was rudely staring.