Maquesta paused outside the armory door. She was going to get some answers this morning from Ilyatha. The telepath was going to tell her exactly how Lendle and Fritzen were faring. Taking a deep breath, she threw open the door and rushed in, a lecture already prepared that would get her some information.
"I was busy taking care of your friends last night," Ilyatha said, looking up and sensing her thoughts. "I didn't want to take the time to talk, to explain things, to make you worry about Lendle and Fritzen perhaps more than you should. You needed some sleep. Besides, I wanted time to pass, to see if they might improve on their own."
And…? Maquesta thought, unable to put voice to her fears.
"And Lendle has shown some improvement, though not much. At least he is breathing regularly. He might be up and around in a day or two, but…" The shadowperson's voice trailed off, and he pointed at the gnome. "You must realize that injuries to the head are hard to predict. He could be unconscious for several days, a few weeks perhaps. Maybe longer. And he might not be himself for a while. The head is often more difficult to heal than the rest of the body."
Maquesta's eyes filled as she looked at the gnome, but she steadfastly fought back the tears. "He will be all right? Won't he? Tell me he will be all right."
Ilyatha's reply was soft. "My mind cannot touch his. I cannot sense his thoughts. That is what troubles me. I cannot tell you that he will be all right, simply because I do not know."
Maquesta bit her lip to keep from crying. Captains don't cry, she told herself. Captains aren't weak. "Lendle has to get well, or we will all starve," she said, trying to sound stoic about the gnome's condition. "Hvel and Vartan said they would try their hand at Lendle's eel stew-minus the potatoes. But they're lousy cooks." She stared at Ilyatha and tried to blank her mind. Maq was thinking that she was too young to captain the Perechon, that she couldn't handle life and death matters when they involved people she truly cared about, that she wished her father were here, that she wished Fritz and Lendle would be all right, that she wished she were stronger.
The shadowperson cast Maq a concerned but tired look. He did not respond to her troubled and private thoughts, but instead glided to a chair next to the gnome. He dropped to the thin cushion, stretched, and yawned.
When Maq asked about Fritz, Ilyatha just shook his head. "I am not familiar with sea hag venom, or many other aquatic toxins for that matter," he said sadly. "He is fighting for his life, but I fear he could be waging a losing battle. He worsened during the night. See how pale he is? The poison in his blood is strong."
"Can you sense his thoughts?" Maq asked out of curiosity.
The telepath nodded. "He dreams about his fallen comrades from the Torado-when he is not thinking about you."
Maquesta paced about the armory, looking at Lendle, her long-time friend, and at Fritzen Dorgaard, for whom she had strange and persistent feelings.
Propped up in the chair, the shadow warrior dozed along with his patients. Fritzen and Lendle lay on their backs, both of them breathing shallowly. Maq placed a hand on each forehead; they were hot. Her brow furrowed, and knowing that no one was awake to see her, she finally let the tears come.
Occupied with such bleak thoughts, Maq did not at first hear her name being called. When she did and left the armory to find the source of the voice, she could not see who was calling. The deck was empty.
"Maquesta," the voice continued. "Maquesta!"
Wiping the tears from her face, Maq finally glanced over the side railing. Swimming in the water below, her long hair floating away from her face like a fan, was Tailonna. The sea elf waved and told Maquesta to throw over the rope ladder used to board the longboat. Complying, Maq vacillated between relief at Tailonna's return and irritation at her lengthy absence.
The sea elf quickly climbed the ladder; once above the water the weight of the bulging sea-frond bags she carried strained at her shoulders. Maq made no move to help, but once over the railing, the elf handed her two large bags. Tailonna kept hold of the remaining two smaller ones.
"Carry those to the armory for me, Maquesta," the elf said as she shook herself, the seawater spraying all over-much of it on Maq. "I've brought ocean herbs to cure Fritzen." With that, Tailonna strode toward the armory door, not bothering to see if Maquesta was following.
Maq glanced at the retreating form of the elf and at the sea frond bags dripping water on her deck. Seething with anger over being ordered around, she opened her mouth to offer Tailonna a vicious retort, but thought better of it. The sea elf was going to help Fritzen. The retorts could come after the medicine was administered.
"Lendle!" Tailonna cried in surprise the moment she stepped inside the makeshift infirmary. "What happened to you?"
Ilyatha awoke at the sound of her voice and proceeded to explain to the sea elf all that had transpired while she was gone. Flustered and upset, the elf glided to an empty bench, knelt before it, and started unwrapping the bags, taking out various pieces of kelp, conch shells full of algae, stubby strands of sea grass, unusual-looking oysters, clumps of seaweed, bulbous roots, a six-legged starfish, and more. She placed each item carefully on the bench, making sure nothing touched anything else. "Maquesta, I need my other bags. Over here, and hurry. I must act quickly while my ingredients are still wet and fresh."
Maq dropped the bags at the sea elf's side, then went to stand next to Fritz, her gaze drifting between the half-ogre, Lendle, and Tailonna.
The sea elf opened the larger bags and pulled out fist-sized pieces of rock with tiny, colorful plants growing out of them. Next, she took one of the smaller, empty frond bags, placed her hand inside it to fashion a mitten, then reached inside the larger bags and brought out sea urchins, their sharp, spiny ridges lying limp in the air.
"I need a knife and a bowl," Tailonna continued. "And get me two cups. One each for Lendle and Fritzen. I think I have sufficient material to mix up enough potions to help both of them."
Ilyatha made no move to assist the sea elf, so Maq, huffing with resignation, whirled on her heels. "I'll get them out of the galley."
When she returned-her arms filled with several small bowls, four cups, three knives, a large steel spoon, and a wooden cutting board-Tailonna looked up, offered a slight smile, and indicated where Maq should set the materials.
"I didn't need that much," the sea elf said.
"That's all right," Maquesta replied. "I didn't want to make a second trip." Intrigued at what the sea elf was mixing, Maq pulled a chair next to Ilyatha and sat down to watch. She made no move to hide the animosity she felt toward the haughty Tailonna, and she briefly wondered if the shadowperson felt the same.
The elf used a frond to hold the spines of one of the urchins down, then she brought the knife through the little creature, cutting apart its brittle shell with a sickening cracking sound. Carefully holding the halves over a bowl, she waited until all the liquid-Maq suspected it was the equivalent of blood in a human-ran out. Tailonna did the same with two of the other urchins, then proceeded to mix the bulbous roots in with the liquid. She mumbled a few words Maquesta couldn't understand and waggled her fingers over the bowl. Apparently satisfied with her concoction, Tailonna rose, padded over to Lendle, and opened the gnome's mouth. Putting one hand behind his stubby neck, she tilted his head and poured the mixture down his throat. The gnome involuntarily swallowed most of it, but a good bit ran out of his mouth and down his chin.
"Clean him off, while I work on a poultice for Fritzen," Tailonna directed Maquesta.
Maq gritted her teeth and pushed off from her chair. Finding a small towel, she carefully wiped the thick, smelly liquid off the gnome's face, then strode to the elf.