Iften growled behind me. “She’s not—”
“Have a care, Iften. You hold no token.” I darted a glance to see that Simus’s face held a deadly look, which eased as he leaned back against his pillows. “The skies were with me. The warprize saved my life and leg.” Simus stressed the word.
Iften snorted. “Your life was saved by—” He cut off his words when Joden stepped back in, fresh cloths in his hand. Joden’s face closed off when he saw Iften. Without a word, he handed me the fresh bandages, then stepped back. I took them without comment, and started to work, aware of a curious tension between the men.
Iften cleared his throat, reached in a pouch at his belt and pulled out a strip of small bells. “I would have words, Simus. Alone.”
Simus kept his smile, but the look in his eyes changed. “I am speaking with the warprize, Iften. If you wish to wait…”
Iften snarled. “I will return.” He stomped past Joden, stuffing the bells away and left quickly.
Joden let out a breath I had not realized he was holding. “Simus…”
Simus pulled his right hand out from under the blanket, turning his head to give Joden a hard look. “Pah, you worry too much. Iften is all piss and wind.”
Joden busied himself with a container of kavage, answering in a quiet, worried voice. “He was a candidate for Warlord, and holds influence with many.”
“And lost the challenge for both Warlord and Token-bearer.” Simus snapped back. “Iften’s a fool, but an honor-able one. He’ll not challenge out of season.” Joden didn’t respond, but a curtain fell over his face. “Work in the shadows, yes. Challenge? No. Leave it to me, old friend.” Simus softened his voice. “ You’ve material for a hundred songs now, eh? With more to come.” Joden scowled, but Simus held up a hand. “Yes, there are problems. We will deal with them. Together.” Simus smirked. “With me at your side, and Keir’s support, who can stand against us?”
Joden relaxed, and rolled his eyes. “You’ve conceit enough for all three of us.”
Simus laughed. “It’s well that I do!” He grinned at me as I finished my task and sat back on my heels. “ What say you, little healer?”
“Is there any of the fever’s foe left?”
Simus barked out a laugh. “Your warriors took it before we were released.”
Joden chuckled. “One tried to get the kavage pot from Rafe, but when he smelled the contents he dropped it to the ground and kicked it. Rafe scrambled after it and has it still.”
I frowned, not liking this. There was always a danger of fever, even at this stage. “Maybe there is a healer here in camp that would have more.”
Simus growled. “No. Our warrior-priest was killed in one of the skirmishes a few days before my capture.” He sighed. “I wish no man death, but he caused more trouble than it was worth to have him along. He opposed Keir at every turn.”
“Besides,” Joden added. “I have never seen anything like that stuff you gave us.”
I perched among the pillows. Joden reached out toward me with a full mug of kavage, and then hesitated, as if not sure I’d accept. I took it, and smiled my thanks. He smiled in return, a big wide smile, and Simus ’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.