they?”
“Gone to cash in
their wager tokens,” Unz replied nervously.
Orlo’s face turned
a dark purple. “Get the water” was all he said, however.
Unz fled.
Orlo kicked a
stool over to Caelan. “Sit!”
Caelan dropped
heavily onto it. His side began to bleed again; he could feel it warm and wet
against his arm. The effort of holding severance was too much. He longed
to let go, yet he was afraid to.
“Hurting, are you?”
Orlo asked. He tossed his club aside and advanced on Caelan. “I thought I’d
never get you safely out of sight. You reckless idiot, I told you to stay out
of his reach. Let me see that arm.”
As he spoke, he
pulled the cloak from Caelan’s shoulders, then stood there, staring. The cloak
slid unnoticed from his fingers. “Merciful Gault,” he whispered. “I thought I
saw him stick you, but then you seemed unhurt. I couldn’t get out of the stands
sooner to help you.”
“It’s all right,”
Caelan said through his teeth. He had never seen Orlo look this pale, this
frightened. “I had to provide ... spectacle.”
“You fool,” Orlo
said, pressing his fingers gently against Caelan’s side where the trickle of
blood was beginning to bubble faster. “You great, hulking fool. When I told you
to use every dirty trick, I didn’t mean this.”
Caelan felt
suddenly flushed and hotter than ever. He twisted on the stool. “Where’s my
bath? It’s too warm in here. I—”
Orlo gripped his
shoulder. “Boy!” he bawled at the top of his lungs. “Unz! Bring bandages,
quickly!”
The room started
spinning around Caelan. He braced his shoulder against Orlo’s side and gripped
the bottom of the man’s tunic. “Not so loud. They’ll hear you.”
“Why the devil
shouldn’t someone hear?” Orlo said in exasperation. But he lowered his voice.
When Unz came running with a handful of gauze strips, he grabbed them from the
boy’s hand, knocking some of them to the floor. “Get more! Idiot! Can’t you see
he’s bleeding to death?”
Unz stared, his
face as white as the bandages, and stammered something incomprehensible.
“Get more
bandages. And water. And the healer. We need the healer!”
“No,” Caelan said.
Orlo pressed the
gauze to his side, and he flinched at the pain.
“Steady,” Orlo
said, but he sounded more desperate than soothing. “Don’t talk. Just stay
quiet. Boy! Where are you?”
Unz reappeared
with more gauze. “This is all—”
“Never mind. Get
the cloak. We’ll bind it around him. Quick, boy. No, I’ll do it. Support him.”
Unz timidly
grasped Caelan’s shoulders while Orlo hacked the cloak into long strips and
wrapped them around Caelan’s torso. He knotted them with a firmness that made
Caelan cry out.
Severance slipped, and he could not hold on any longer. The river of blood escaped him
and gushed into the cloth. He could feel his life, his awareness flowing out
with it.
“Forget the water.
Run for the healer now,” Orlo said while the room swirled and eddied. “Go, boy!”
“No,” Caelan said.
He reached out, his hand groping blindly.
Orlo gripped his
fingers hard enough to crush them.
“No one to know,”
Caelan insisted. “Spoil the victory. Spoil the prince’s ... orders ...”
He couldn’t
finish. The room grew white, blurring into shapeless light, then fading, fading
until there was only shadow.
“Get the healer,”
he heard Orlo say. “Don’t say why. Don’t say anything. Just get him. Run!”
Caelan came drifting
back to the pleasant fragrances of balm and honey, herbal scents that reminded
him of his childhood safe in E’nonhold. Someone nearby was grinding with a
small mortar and pestle, working the old-fashioned way, doing things correctly.
He opened his eyes
a fraction, not quite willing to wake up completely yet. There was a fire
burning to keep him warm. It cast a ruddy glow across his bed. He listened to
the hiss of the embers, a steady singing of flame that seemed to be calling his
name.
Wind
“Gone to cash in
their wager tokens,” Unz replied nervously.
Orlo’s face turned
a dark purple. “Get the water” was all he said, however.
Unz fled.
Orlo kicked a
stool over to Caelan. “Sit!”
Caelan dropped
heavily onto it. His side began to bleed again; he could feel it warm and wet
against his arm. The effort of holding severance was too much. He longed
to let go, yet he was afraid to.
“Hurting, are you?”
Orlo asked. He tossed his club aside and advanced on Caelan. “I thought I’d
never get you safely out of sight. You reckless idiot, I told you to stay out
of his reach. Let me see that arm.”
As he spoke, he
pulled the cloak from Caelan’s shoulders, then stood there, staring. The cloak
slid unnoticed from his fingers. “Merciful Gault,” he whispered. “I thought I
saw him stick you, but then you seemed unhurt. I couldn’t get out of the stands
sooner to help you.”
“It’s all right,”
Caelan said through his teeth. He had never seen Orlo look this pale, this
frightened. “I had to provide ... spectacle.”
“You fool,” Orlo
said, pressing his fingers gently against Caelan’s side where the trickle of
blood was beginning to bubble faster. “You great, hulking fool. When I told you
to use every dirty trick, I didn’t mean this.”
Caelan felt
suddenly flushed and hotter than ever. He twisted on the stool. “Where’s my
bath? It’s too warm in here. I—”
Orlo gripped his
shoulder. “Boy!” he bawled at the top of his lungs. “Unz! Bring bandages,
quickly!”
The room started
spinning around Caelan. He braced his shoulder against Orlo’s side and gripped
the bottom of the man’s tunic. “Not so loud. They’ll hear you.”
“Why the devil
shouldn’t someone hear?” Orlo said in exasperation. But he lowered his voice.
When Unz came running with a handful of gauze strips, he grabbed them from the
boy’s hand, knocking some of them to the floor. “Get more! Idiot! Can’t you see
he’s bleeding to death?”
Unz stared, his
face as white as the bandages, and stammered something incomprehensible.
“Get more
bandages. And water. And the healer. We need the healer!”
“No,” Caelan said.
Orlo pressed the
gauze to his side, and he flinched at the pain.
“Steady,” Orlo
said, but he sounded more desperate than soothing. “Don’t talk. Just stay
quiet. Boy! Where are you?”
Unz reappeared
with more gauze. “This is all—”
“Never mind. Get
the cloak. We’ll bind it around him. Quick, boy. No, I’ll do it. Support him.”
Unz timidly
grasped Caelan’s shoulders while Orlo hacked the cloak into long strips and
wrapped them around Caelan’s torso. He knotted them with a firmness that made
Caelan cry out.
Severance slipped, and he could not hold on any longer. The river of blood escaped him
and gushed into the cloth. He could feel his life, his awareness flowing out
with it.
“Forget the water.
Run for the healer now,” Orlo said while the room swirled and eddied. “Go, boy!”
“No,” Caelan said.
He reached out, his hand groping blindly.
Orlo gripped his
fingers hard enough to crush them.
“No one to know,”
Caelan insisted. “Spoil the victory. Spoil the prince’s ... orders ...”
He couldn’t
finish. The room grew white, blurring into shapeless light, then fading, fading
until there was only shadow.
“Get the healer,”
he heard Orlo say. “Don’t say why. Don’t say anything. Just get him. Run!”
Caelan came drifting
back to the pleasant fragrances of balm and honey, herbal scents that reminded
him of his childhood safe in E’nonhold. Someone nearby was grinding with a
small mortar and pestle, working the old-fashioned way, doing things correctly.
He opened his eyes
a fraction, not quite willing to wake up completely yet. There was a fire
burning to keep him warm. It cast a ruddy glow across his bed. He listened to
the hiss of the embers, a steady singing of flame that seemed to be calling his
name.
Wind
Similar Books
