’s smile echoed his as Joden served them both. Joden also produced a bowl of the little white pellets and held it out. “Gurt?”
I managed not to wrinkle my nose in disgust. “No, thank you.”
Mug in hand, Simus growled and pinned me with a glare. “When can I get up and out of this tent?”
Ah, the familiar cries of a healing warrior. This I could deal with. I took a sip of kavage first, and the bitterness of the liquid burned in the back of my throat. “Not for at least five days… maybe more. If you stress the wound it could split open.” I smiled, trying to soften the effect of my words. “You would spoil my hard work.”
Simus looked away, scowling. “If’s fine.”
I knew that look. He was going to get up and move, regardless. No different from any Xyian warrior. I glanced over at Joden and caught his worried frown. Well, there’s more than one way to treat a wound. I leaned back on the cushions. “I am sure that you are right.” I let a frown cross my face. “Of course that is what Lanis told me after I bound up his foot when it had been sliced up in a stag hunt.” I shook my head, looking into my mug. “Lanis was a great bear of a man. Told me that it was a scratch and nothing more.
Then he went off to drill his men and marched right along side them.” I looked over at Joden. “The next time I saw him was when they brought him to me. The wound had split open and putrefied. I did what I could, but the wound would not come clean.” I casually looked over at Simus. I had his complete attention. “He wept like a child when I had to cut off his foot.” I took a swig of kavage.
“How did he fare then?” Joden asked quietly.
“Oh well, the foot came off, but the blood poisoning had spread up into his leg.” I played with one of the tassels on the pillow. “It started to turn black and swelled to twice its size.” I took another drink. “The puss just oozed out. It was a shame, but we had no choice. A few days later I took his leg off at the knee.” I stared at the coals in the brazier. “I really thought I had gotten all the bad flesh out and that Lanis would make it.”
Simus coughed. I looked up and smiled at him. “The stump looked great. I was really proud of the work I had done.”
Simus cleared his throat. “How did he fare after…”
My face fell. “The blood poisoning got into his brain. We dosed him heavily with our best herbs, but he died screaming in agony.” I let the silence go on for a bit. “Could I have some more kavage, please?” I held out my mug to Joden, who filled it woodenly. “Oh, but that was nothing compared to…”
After the second cup of kavage, Simus was grey, Joden looked faint and I felt wide awake and full of energy.
I wondered what was in that stuff.
I didn’t stay much past the second mug. Once his color came back, Simus looked tired. I knew that he should rest. So I stood, said my farewells, and left the tent. Joden followed me out, saying that he needed more wood for the fire. Once outside, he put his hand on my shoulder. “My thanks. Simus will listen to you.”
I looked up. “I hope so. I didn’t make those stories up.”
Joden shuddered.
“Joden, where are the tents of the healers?” I frowned. “I am sure that they must have more fever’s foe, or something like it.”
“The warrior-priests do not share their knowledge,” Joden pointed off behind the tent and further down the rise to a group of tents clustered together. “His tent was there.” He hesitated. “My thanks again, Warprize. For the life of my friend.”
I studied him for a moment. “You used my name before, Joden.”
He smiled ruefully. “You are the warprize now.”
I grimaced, and turned to leave as he returned to the tent. I moved but a few steps toward Keir’s tent when I heard it. The sound of a whip being applied to someone’s flesh. I hesitated, and turned toward the sound, taking a few steps between the tents. A quick glance told me that the guards weren’t paying that much attention, so I moved a bit farther and looked toward the sound.
Behind the tents a man was tied to a post, stripped to the waist, his back bloody. Two men were standing there, one lashing at him with a whip. I knew military discipline was harsh, Father had talked about it. But it was one thing to talk of something, another to see. The lash fell with a regular rhythm, the man making harsh grunts as they landed. I froze in fear, horrified, as they stopped, untied him and watched as he dropped soundlessly to the ground. The other men picked him up by the arms, dragged him to the warrior-priest tent, and dropped him just inside the flap. They walked off, as if he was no longer their concern.
I expected some kind of outburst, some kind of response from inside the tent, but nothing happened.
There were bedrolls, of warriors sleeping around open fires, but none stirred. I could still see the man’s foot in the tent entrance. No one was helping him.
The camp around us was stirring a bit more. I could see men moving about with weapons and horses, bent on various tasks. He’d be found eventually. But if he roused, and rolled over into the dirt… I took a tentative step forward, then another. There was no outcry, no calls of ‘escaping slave’. I hurried forward to help. The man’s foot never twitched as I carefully raised the flap of the main entrance and went inside.
I was hit with a terrible stench first thing. Gasping, I covered my nose with my shirt and looked around.
What in the Goddess’s name…
It was a large tent, with fewer cots then had been up at the castle. Men lay in them, some moaning. The stench came from the overflowing slop pots under each cot. The man at my feet was unconscious, but breathing. From the look of it, none of these men had been tended, or bathed recently. There was no one about that looked to be caring for the men at all.
I staggered back out into the light and air, wiping my streaming eyes. I looked around, furious at this lack of care. There appeared to be some dozen warriors, sleeping around a fire pit at the side of the tent. The large cauldrons nearby told me that it was probably used for laundry. I stomped over, braiding up my hair as I went. Sure enough, these men looked healthy and sleeping off a drunk.
