Princess Reviled

by Butler, J. M.

  "Yes," Zempar said. "This way. You'll find the supplies you need underneath the table, and Melrun will oversee your work." He walked at a quick pace though he spoke in an easy manner, gesturing briefly at a sharp-eyed Machat before pointing to the back of the room at the man on the third table in the first row. "This will be your first patient. You should know he has already been treated for the pain, but it is not having the desired effect." At the head of the table was a series of basins and beneath that on a shelf lay a small knife, bowls of herbs, a thin needle, silk thread, and other similar items. He then gave her a quick overview of the uses for the herbs and medicines.

  A middle-aged Ayamin warrior with blood in his close-trimmed beard lay on the wooden slab, his brown eyes dull, his breaths shallow. He gripped his shoulder, blood seeping over his fingers. Lacerations and scrapes all over his body had reduced his garments to little more than rags.

  "All right," Amelia said. She washed her hands in the first basin, wishing that she had sterile latex gloves and a myriad of other modern medical advancements. Thankfully, in addition to her other courses, Uncle Joe had fully supported her taking emergency medical classes for survival situations, supplementing with what he knew of Libyshan herbology and medical practices. What Zempar said coincided with what Uncle Joe taught her. "I'm just going to take a look and see what can be done."

  The Ayamin remained tight-lipped, his face pale from blood loss, but he did not fight her treatment. The primary wound was bad but essentially a disinfect and mend job. Bikro, a waxy substance that the Libyshans and Machat put into deep wounds, would prevent abscesses from forming and encourage blood regeneration and rapid tissue growth, but pressing it into the wound was the most uncomfortable part, especially in a wound this deep when the pain was not fully treated. Amelia tried to comfort and soothe him as she followed the essential procedures.

  Melrun, a Machat physician, came alongside her. "Very good. Your stitches are excellent," she said. "Let me know if you need anything else."

  Amelia nodded and resumed tending to the less serious wounds.

  The chaos continued about her, rising and falling as more wounded were brought in and others taken away. Sometimes the cacophony of thoughts and emotions plucked at Amelia's mind even through the comforting coverings, especially when someone died.

  There were more than a few deaths in the next hours, warriors who bled out amid soft cries and loud wails. Yet as she worked, Amelia forced herself to remain cold and detached. Her sorrow and grief would do nothing for the survivors. Soothing the patients' pain, mending their wounds, patching them up, and offering what comfort she could was what mattered now.

  Occasionally, other Machat and Ayamin came to speak with her. She insisted on working on her various patients as they talked to her, and one question from the Libyshans appeared over and over again. "When can we deal with the Vawtrians?"

  The query appeared in multiple forms, boiling down to a single desire: to have vengeance upon the former Paras. Each time she was asked, Amelia said no.

  "No one goes down there without my permission," she said firmly. She sliced through the thread and set the knife down, giving the newest Ayamin visitor a stern look as she tended to a bronze-striped Machat warrior with deep lacerations along her hands, neck, and forearms. "To do so would be a direct violation of my orders. The former Paras are under my care per the king's command. And while I understand that you desire vengeance, the former Paras are too dangerous."

  "With due respect, your Highness, they are in a cage, their hands and feet sealed and shackled. How dangerous can they be?" The Ayamin returned the stern gaze. He was fierce in appearance despite his youth, and his eyes were bright though his armor was rent at the shoulder and bloodied bandages encased his right arm. His injuries did not keep him from standing, and from the way his gaze darted about the room, Amelia guessed that there was at least one person in this hospital he was particularly worried about. Probably more.

  Amelia mixed together the dalrik and li to form a sticky green paste, then applied a liberal layer on the Machat woman's neck. "Naatos, AaQar, and WroOth are dangerous."

  The soldier stared at her as she then applied the thick wax-like bandage to hold the paste in place. At last, the Ayamin shook his head and strode away. "Or are they family," he muttered.

  Amelia clenched her jaw. She finished tending the Machat woman and shifted her attention to a Machat man. His shoulder as well as his arm had been broken in several places. Melrun had to summon two additional attendants to help her set the bones properly before binding up his injuries.

  Yet another Ayamin approached her. "What do you want done with the menagerie?" he asked.

  "Menagerie?" Amelia helped the patient off the table as a vague memory arose. There was a menagerie in the temple, but she hadn't seen it. It must have been a memory from Naatos or WroOth.

  The Ayamin cleared his throat and grimaced, dipping his head apologetically as if what he was about to say troubled him. "Elder Commander Vorec says that you were put in charge of the former Paras and therefore have authority over all the other monsters. That you and you alone were to handle them."

  Vorec. How good it was to know that the elder commander could be so petty. Amelia cleaned the needle and knife with the bitter smelling alcohol. "So what's in there?"

  "Monsters, your Highness." The Ayamin coughed, flushing. "That's probably obvious. Crudons, serpents, baskels. Perhaps I could find a few soldiers to handle them for you if you like."

  Amelia pushed the headband back. The cool air swept against her elmis, a rush of emotion surging into her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the young man. "Are you doing this to help me or to undermine me?" The roar of other emotions and thoughts pressed up against her, but staying focused on this Ayamin made it easier.

  A nervous muscle in his neck twitched. "I'm trying to help," he said, voice cracking at the end.

  Amelia lifted her chin and continued to study him. All of these soldiers began to blur in her mind. The distinctions between them were more in their injuries and their eye color. This one had soft blue eyes, older than the average new recruit, but he did not appear to have seen much conflict. His name was Lon. That information had seeped in on its own. That and he was telling the truth though something troubled him. "The elder commander doesn't think I can handle the creatures, does he?" She put away the knife, pulled the headband back down, and cast her gaze over the medical supplies. She'd need more li.

  "It seems that way." Lon dropped his gaze to the floor. "But it is not something to be ashamed of. There are so many of them. If you like, I will—"

  Amelia held up her hand. "It's fine. I'll handle them. But if I need your help, I'll let you know."

  "I am at your service," Lon said as he backed away.

  Amelia shook her head. Vorec was going to try to sabotage her in some way. She'd have to figure out a way around it. Perhaps this was to make a larger point or to divide her attention or demonstrate she was incapable of handling the matters under her authority.

  What was to be done with the creatures Naatos had made though? Should they just be executed? They surely couldn't be released out into the Libyshan countryside.

  The next few hours passed swiftly. Amelia did not pause to eat until the afternoon was well spent. At that point, the majority of the serious wounds had been tended.

  Amelia transitioned to making the rounds through the temple and gathering final bits of information. She briefly checked on Naatos and his brothers and brought them the supplies she had set aside. All three were sleeping, so she covered their dishes to keep the roaches out. With their hands shackled and partially covered, it would be difficult but not impossible for them to eat. But that didn't mean they should eat food that insects had crawled across.

  Kepsalon came to get her as she returned from the dungeon. "It's time for a less pleasant conversation, I'm afraid," he said.

  "Oh, joy." Amelia paused beneath the carved arch. "Is it time for another talk with Vorec?"r />
  "Yes, the elder commander wants to speak with you along with Cherldon and Elvarn, but I came to get you before he could come up with some way to antagonize you." He clipped his words, speaking faster. "Now. Here is what you need to know. The palace has been taken back. The king, queen, and prince are safe. All of the Talbokians are gone."

  "And you aren't going to tell us where they went?" Amelia asked, peering at him sidelong.

  The edges of Kepsalon's mouth quirked up. "Not for now."

  "I'm glad you're on our side," Amelia said. "You Machat would be formidable enemies."

  "We most certainly would." Kepsalon guided her to the narrow staircase, down an unadorned hall, and into a small stone room. He opened the door without announcing them.

  "What we do must be done swiftly—" Vorec broke off as the door swung open.

  Vorec and the two other elder commanders stood around a table stacked with maps, charts, and pieces of parchment. Amelia recognized the other two at once, Cherldon a dark-haired warrior with fresh burns along his throat, and Elvarn, a redheaded soldier with a crooked nose and broken arm. Both had excellent reputations as loyal warriors and a preference for melee combat.

  Vorec's heavy energy penetrated the bindings over Amelia's elmis. The other two elder commanders, both recently promoted, mirrored Vorec's angry posture—arms folded, expressions dark. Amelia kept her head up. None of them would cow her.

  "Good evening, gentlemen," Kepsalon said smoothly. "The Third Nalenth and I have further news for you that should be considered. The latest messengers have confirmed my concerns." He folded his hands before his stained jerkin. "We only have a limited supply of the huanna, the drug that we created to keep the Paras from shifting and escaping. Some of our kin from the north will be bringing in added supplies, and we are doing the best we can to create more. Unfortunately, these three require even more than we anticipated. But if the king insists that these Vawtrians be brought to the palace, which neither the Third Nalenth nor the Machat support—"

  "The king does insist," Vorec said.

  Kepsalon nodded as if undisturbed by the interruption. "Well, if it is insisted on, then we must conserve what is available. During transportation, they must be entirely unconscious if you are to succeed at all, which means that even more must be used. And the Third Nalenth has her own requirements for how the former Paras are to be treated. Wise requirements, I might add." He glanced at her, giving a slight nod.

  "Yes," Amelia said. "Given the state of the huanna, it's even more important that the former Paras be left alone. They are not to be interrogated. No one is to see them without my permission." She folded her arms as well, the unease in the room unnerving her. "Also, I would suggest that everyone whom we can spare should be removed from the temple in case the former Paras escape."

  Vorec laughed coldly. The other two elder commanders remained silent, Cherldon shifting his weight. "Do you wish to take over everything then?"

  "No. I'm saying that if the former Paras get free, they will kill everyone here," Amelia said.

  "Except you," Vorec said pointedly.

  "Yes, except me. Which is why I am the one interacting with them."

  Vorec's gaze shifted to Kepsalon. "Tell us when the beastchangers will escape."

  A laugh wisped from Kepsalon's mouth. "Elder commander, we cannot see with such specificity. There are many possibilities. But eventually these three will be free again. It is not wise for you to oppose the Third Nalenth in this matter. She is not a traitor. I also agree with her desire to have all non-essential individuals removed from the temple."

  "As you say, it is merely possibility." Vorec leaned forward, placing his hands on the table. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Amelia. "We cannot leave the temple undefended or else we run the risk of other forces attempting to take control of it for themselves just as they did under Naatos's rule. The Talbokians had other allies in the mountains. Even if the Machat have taken them away to never bother us again, we cannot assume there will be no trouble with the other clans and nations. We cannot trust as we have before. Besides, the Paras will not escape unless they have help." His final words soured into a sneer.

  Amelia stiffened, the implication of his statement cutting deep. "I am trying to save lives. If we keep a quarter troop here, even an eighth, that will be enough to keep up appearances. But they need to know the risk that they are taking."

  Vorec shared a knowing look with Cherldon and Elvarn. "A quarter troop?" His voice took on a more patronizing tone. "And what good will a quarter troop do if any of those three escapes? Why not send the Ayamin all back and leave you here alone with your lovers?"

  Cherldon raised an eyebrow. Elvarn rocked back and forth and cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable.

  "Keeping a single troop is the best compromise I see," Amelia said. "A quarter or eighth of a troop would be sufficient to make a stand and hold out until further aid arrives. But if any of the Vawtrians escape, no number will be enough. So I won't require that any of them remain. So far as I'm concerned, their only duty should be to leave and warn Libysha of the threat and get everyone to safety, wherever that may be."

  "So you are saying that they are cowards? You say that we Ayamin as a whole are cowards? That we would do better to flee than fight?" Vorec's tone grew harsher.

  "No, that's not what I am saying at all." Amelia returned the glare. It was becoming harder to restrain her temper, but deep down she knew it would only serve to cause more problems if she lashed out. "I am saying that we should be practical. Brave as the Ayamin are, it isn't necessary for thousands to die to prove it."

  "Tell me then, Machat," Vorec said, his gaze shifting to Kepsalon. "When will the Paras escape? And how many troops should be left to guard them?"

  Kepsalon's eyes narrowed slightly, the only physical indication of his annoyance. "As I told you before, numerous times, we do not know when. It could be within a few days. It could be within a few months. But it will happen with sooner being far more likely than later. And as for the number of men, Amelia is correct. An eighth of a troop should be sufficient. You could make do with even fewer so long as they keep regular posts and signal for help if any trouble comes."

  Vorec placed his hands on the table. "If the soonest they escape is after three weeks to a month, then we have no reason to fear. They can be made to pay for their crimes. Surely you cannot object to some measure of justice being taken against them."

  Amelia's frustration tightened her breaths and her jaw. "What you are talking about is not about justice. Elonumato will judge them, and they will pay for what they have done. But it is a dangerous thing for you or anyone else to go in there, and that could result in their escaping sooner. Isn't that right, Kepsalon?"

  Kepsalon nodded somberly. "And even if that did not happen, many of your Ayamin—and perhaps even you—would perish for no purpose. I cannot emphasize enough how dangerous the former Paras still are."

  "And I am the one who is responsible for them," Amelia said. "I am doing this to protect Libysha and the Libyshans, not the former Paras. They are capable of healing themselves from grievous wounds, and even with the huanna, they cannot be deeply wounded for long. Their healing is slowed, not ended. And they still have brute strength. So there will be no torture. There will be no executions. We need them alive to finish restoring the Tue-Rah, and so they will be kept alive and well."

  Vorec smiled coldly. "As you say. But if that is what you decide, understand that you will not receive any of Libysha's stores to provide for them. You cannot take bread and meat from the mouths of noble warriors to fill the bellies of monsters. If you plan on them eating, you will have to hunt for their food yourself. The same goes for the monsters in the menagerie. All monsters are your responsibility. So you will handle them alone." Vorec folded his arms. "Our supplies include all the larders and stores of the temple's kitchens as well."

  A chill shuddered down Amelia's back. She braced herself, fighting the surge of anger now spreading as the co
ld bead within her mind shuddered. "I have seen the stores. There is more than enough in this place to last for eight days feeding everyone, and the Machat are bringing additional supplies. There is plenty for all. Naatos's forces did nothing to destroy the fields or the stores."

  "There is only enough for those who fought in battle and are wholly on our side. We will share what little we have with the Machat. After all, we are grateful to them for their assistance, and we will go hungry ourselves rather than see our fellow siblings in arms suffer. Even you may take food for yourself. But we will not share food or comfort with the Vawtrians. Not unless you are willing to make a trade." The glint in Vorec's eyes told Amelia he believed he had won.

  "There is more than enough for everyone to last for eight days," Amelia said again, slower this time. "I saw the stores."

  "I don't know what you saw," Elvarn said, his voice husky but stern. "You were clearly mistaken. There is only enough for us and our allies." He sized her up, a slight sneer creeping at his mouth. "And you."

  Cherldon lifted his hand as if to underscore the point. "And while none of us desire unnecessary cruelty, your Highness, you must understand that it is for the best. It is possible we could be attacked again. It is vital that we are not caught unaware or unprepared."

  "Besides," Vorec said, his voice becoming sterner. "This is a matter of principle. Something you are fond of debating rather than living. I suppose it was not reinforced in your lessons in pampering prisoners, braiding your hair, and spreading your legs for skinchangers, but I assure you that this matters. You might not be willing to slay any of the monsters, but you cannot force us to feed them."