"If they prove to be forlorn hopes then I will be forced reluctantly to wipe their minds clean and look elsewhere."
–
He felt cold, colder than he had ever felt before or would have believed it possible to feel. With his teeth chattering uncontrollably he pushed himself up onto one elbow and opened his eyes to look around.
The awning of a tent was shading him from a sun that was reflecting off the rippled surface of a large, clear pool that lay a dozen paces away, and shining down on the thin, uneven carpet of short grass between the water's edge and the strange, pale gray litter on which he was lying. A hot but gentle breeze was warming his face and bringing with it the scent of the few desert flowers that were pushing up through the short grass. For a moment Declan wondered if he had died and had awakened in Paradise, but he quickly discounted that idea for three reasons; he had never believed in any kind of heaven; his wounds were still hurting; and Sinead was on her knees beside him observing unnecessarily that he was awake at last.
"I'm c-cold," he said, still looking around him. He saw that they were in a narrow ravine with an uneven, grassy floor. The horse and wagon were about twenty paces behind him and Ma'el was looking down at them from the driving bench. "What happened? How did I get here?"
"Your body is still thawing out," she replied, "and Ma'el says you will be warm again very soon. So ease your mind, save your strength, and don't tire yourself asking questions that I'm about to answer. Lie down again, onto the same side because that's the only part of you that wasn't punctured with arrows. I cut the shafts away as close as possible to the entry wounds, but the heads are still in you. They were barbed and will have to be cut out carefully rather than being pulled out so as to avoid causing even more damage. Do you think you can hold still without fidgeting while I'm doing that?"
Declan stifled a groan as he lowered his raised shoulder back to the litter, discovering that his body was covered by one thin and impossibly white sheet and nothing else. At least he wouldn't have to suffer her pulling off his tunic and boots because that had already been done.
"Yes," he said.
"Good," she replied, folding back the sheet. "And it would make you feel more comfortable if you don't try to look at what I'll be doing to you. Weil start with the easy ones, the hip and buttock wounds…"
He fixed his eyes on what from his position was the vertical edge of the pool and did not reply because his teeth were already clenched. He felt her fingers pressing gently around the wound in his buttock, then the sting of two short, deep cuts on opposite sides of the arrowhead, then it being moved gently from side to side and drawn out. She transferred her attention to the hip wound and he tensed, knowing now what pain to expect. Her voice was brisk, confident, and reassuring as she went on talking, but there was an undertone of concern in it that made him wonder if she thought she was working on a body that was expected soon to die.
"… I shall allow the wounds to bleed themselves clean for a few moments before I stitch, cover, and bind them," she said, tossing the bloody arrowheads onto the ground close to his face. "Do you want to keep those in memory of your battle?"
"No," said Declan firmly, "I hate the sight of blood
…" he tried to laugh but instead the body movement made him gasp in pain, "… especially my own."
"I hate the sight of your blood, too," she said, and added quickly, "or anyone else's. We owe a lot to Padraig of Cashel; his leather tunic stopped the arrows from penetrating deeply. Now for the shoulder. Your muscles are like rocks. It will come out easier if you let the arm go limp. But to return to your earlier questions, after Ma'el's djinn frightened off the raiders, he moved you into his wagon and put you into what he called hibernation anaesthesia…"
"What's that?"
"… I asked the same question," she went on, "and he said cold sleep. I haven't seen inside his wagon. What's it like?"
"I don't know," said Declan. "I was sleeping, remember."
"You sarcastic son of a…" Sinead began angrily, then she shook her head and went on in a voice filled with growing wonder, "Indeed you were. For nearly four months you were sleeping while Ma'el used the large and two of the smaller djinns, he calls them soft-landed sensors, to seek out the medical knowledge that was needed. The big djinn is the one that usually remains very high and sends down the pictures to the magic chart. It found the libraries in Athens, Rome, Alexandria, and one in Xian in Far Cathay, and another in a vast country that nobody knows about where they make human sacrifices to a god called Huitzilopochtl so that he will allow the sun to rise each morning, but they have great knowledge about the internal arrangement of bones and organs and the workings of our bodies.
"The two small djinns that live in the big one's belly," she rushed on, "came down at night to look at the scrolls and pictures and send all they saw to Ma'el's chart for us to study. Sometimes it was difficult for their long, iron fingers to find and open the books at the right place, and scrolls were knocked from the shelves, but the disturbance was usually blamed on robbers. Once Ma'el had to find and question a scholar through a small djinn which he used to make the other believe was the manifestation of a strange god. But he gave us the knowledge I needed…".
"Wait," said Declan weakly, shaking his head and immediately regretting it because his shoulder muscle also moved. "What are you talking about? Where is this place, what has happened apart from djinns coming and going, what knowledge are you talking about, and why do you need it?"
She continued answering him quietly while she eased the arrowhead out of his shoulder and threw it away so violently that it might have been a disgusting reptile. She left the wound to bleed for a few moments while she returned her attention to the other two, pressing them closed with gentle fingers before stitching their edges together and covering them with pads, soaked in something that smelled strongly, that were held in position with firm bindings.
They were not very far from the scene of the battle, she told him, and when Ma'el had told Bashir that the wagon would remain behind for a while he had told the truth without being accurate about the exact duration. With the help of the chart their master had found a suitable ravine, moved the wagon into it, and performed a spell to ensure that nobody would ever stumble across it, or even see it or the comings and goings of the djinns that visited them regularly with charms that Ma'el said he needed. One of them had been a strange, glowing staff that he had pushed into the sand saying that it was drilling an opening into a stream that was flowing deep underground. When he removed the staff a few moments later, a spring of clear water had bubbled up to form the pool he could see beside them. Time and the dried-out but still-living seeds in the ground had produced the young grass and desert flowers that were growing all around them.
"Are you sure it's been that long since…?" Declan began.
"You were cold sleeping," she answered shortly. "Weren't you listening to me? Now roll over a little onto your stomach, but without hurting your side. I have to work on the leg, now. The arrowhead went in behind and above the knee. There is an important vein there and I mustn't cut it when the barb is coming out
…"
"Why not?"
"Because you might bleed to death," she replied, "or end up with a wooden stump like Tomas the helmsman. Unfortunately there is none of Brian's wine to ease your hurting so I will understand if you make noises or use unseemly language. I would do both in your place. Just be sure to hold the leg steady while I'm working on it…"
He began by biting his lower lip until he tasted his own blood and changed to clenching his teeth instead, but he did not make a sound. It seemed that she was spending a much longer time on the back of his leg than she had on the other wounds. He felt her fingers moving the barb back and forth by tiny amounts and sometimes twisting it before it was drawn out and he felt the gentler, regular pricking of the stitches that pulled the edges of the wound together. But at last he felt the firm binding being wound on and heard her sigh of relief.