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The troll man pulled ragged curtains across the windows. The woman disappeared for a moment before she returned with blankets clutched in her arms. Together, she and her husband covered the windows, using the benches from around the table to press the blankets tight against the walls.
When the troll woman finished, she turned, taking in Rharreth draped across Zavni’s back and dripping blood on her floor. “Put His Majesty on the table.”
While Zavni eased Rharreth down onto the table, the troll woman lit more candles and lamps while her husband stoked the fire.
Melantha braced herself against the table as she reached a trembling hand toward Rharreth. She needed to heal him. Her vision blurred, her head spinning. Her whole body was aching.
Next thing she knew, she was blinking up at the ceiling. Zavni knelt on one side, the troll woman on the other.
The troll woman frowned, her forehead furrowed. “You are bleeding, milady.”
She was? Melantha fumbled to rest a hand on the most painful spot—her shoulder—and her fingers touched warm, fresh blood. When she called on her magic, she finally sensed the bullet wound in her shoulder. One of the bullets from the repeater gun must have gone all the way through Rharreth to hit her. Her magic told her the bullet was still lodged next to her shoulder blade.
Rharreth. Melantha struggled to sit up. “I need to—” She trailed off as her head spun again.
The troll woman’s hand pushed into Melantha’s upper chest. “You need to rest. You are weak from loss of blood.”
“But Rharreth...” Melantha reached upward for the table, fumbling to try to touch Rharreth’s hand. She needed to check on him and make sure he was still alive.
Zavni glanced from the tabletop, then back to Melantha. “He seems stable enough. For now. You cannot help him until you help yourself first. You are our only healer.”
Right. Of course. She needed to have a clear head to surgically remove the bullets from Rharreth. She would do him no good if she was dizzy and passing out.
“What about the use of magic, Your Majesty?” The troll woman’s grip tightened on Melantha’s arm.
“Healing magic is not like other magics. It can only be performed through direct touch and thus can only be sensed with direct touch.” Melantha forced herself to concentrate. “I...I will need to dig the bullet from my shoulder and heal myself. I might need to rest afterwards. Could...could you make Rharreth comfortable by the fire?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Zavni and the troll man moved Rharreth while the troll woman used a stack of furs and blankets to cushion the hearth and lay over him.
Melantha slowly pushed to a sitting position, leaning against the table leg. This couple was probably using every rug, fur, and blanket they had in their home, and Melantha and Rharreth would leave most of them blood-stained and worse for the wear when they were done.
The troll woman returned to Melantha’s side. “What do you need? Where can I help, milady?”
“Could you please help me onto the table?” Melantha gritted her teeth as the woman pulled her to her feet, then aided her as she eased onto the table.
How was she going to perform surgery on herself? She had never had reason to do so before.
Could she ask this troll woman to do the digging for her? Yet, one look at the woman’s work-roughened hands and wide-eyed expression sent a pang through Melantha. She did not like the thought of those untrained hands probing her shoulder.
No, Melantha would have to do it herself. “Do you have a mirror? Or some shiny object? I will also need my medical kit from my pack.”
What had happened to her pack? Zavni or the woman must have taken it off when Melantha passed out.
Melantha returned to staring at the smooth, domed rock of the ceiling, even as she listened to the troll woman rummage in a cupboard, then in Melantha’s pack. Lying down steadied her head, and the magic she eased through herself soothed the aches from her various bruises.
When the troll woman returned to her side, a leather satchel in her hand, Melantha caught her arm. “What is your name? I am sorry I did not take the time to ask before.”
“Inersha, Your Majesty. And my husband’s name is Mymrar. We are of family Verdrun.” The troll woman smiled, then held up the pack. “Where would you like this?”
Melantha talked Inersha through laying out the supplies on a bench, then cleansing the instruments she would need. Inersha cut her dress around the injury and cleansed the wound while Melantha gritted her teeth.
It was probably extra caution, but she would need all the magic she could get for Rharreth. She could not waste it fending off an infection in herself because she decided to do everything with magic instead of taking the time to clean the wound beforehand.
Then, while Inersha held a metal frying pan, Melantha used both a slim knife and a pair of tweezers to dig inside her shoulder. It was difficult trying to find the bullet in the vague reflection on the worn pan. Not to mention, what little she could see was all reversed in the mirrored surface.
She found the bullet mostly by feel, tears heating her eyes as she finally withdrew it. “Could you please look to see if any more pieces of my dress or other debris are in the wound? I cannot see well enough in the reflection to be sure I have everything.”
Inersha took the tweezers and the bullet from Melantha, then leaned closer to examine the wound. After a few moments, she nodded. “I don’t see anything, milady.”
