by James White
…"
"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.
"Good," she said. "Now for the side wound. Roll slowly back onto your other side and… Your mouth is bleeding. Surely you're losing enough blood from other places without chewing off bits of your lip?"
"I was hungry," said Declan, forcing a smile. "I still am."
"And that's how you're going to stay," she said firmly. "How long is it since you ate anything, not counting the time you spent cold sleeping in the wagon?"
Declan thought for a moment. "At the caravanserai I was too tired to eat," he said, "and I overslept and had to leave quickly to catch up to Bashir's men and so missed breaking my fast. Since then there wasn't a chance to… Please, I'm starving to death."
"That's good," she said looking relieved.
"That's cruel, heartless," he replied. "I tell you, my stomach thinks my throat's been cut… What is that thing?"
"Another device of Ma'el's," she replied. "It resembles the chart except that instead of showing where we are it lets me see what is happening inside your body. Lift yourself, gently now, onto your elbow and look into it. Isn't it wonderful? My father would have sold his soul for a device like this. I may want you to hold it in position if I have to use both hands."
It was a flat, square box more than a hand's length on the side and no thicker than a man's index finger. Instead of a motionless picture the upper surface of the box showed a landscape that seemed to be in regular, twitching motion. Bright and clear at its center was the short length of arrow and barb penetrating his flesh while around and behind it there were many thick and thin lines, which from the operation of Tomas's leg he recognized as veins, and even thicker masses that curled about each other in a wet, slippery tangle.
"It's horrible, disgusting," he said, easing his good side back onto the litter. "My belly looks like it's full of serpents."
"Hopefully they are empty serpents," said Sinead, "and ensuring that they remain that way is what may keep you alive. If the subject doesn't disgust you too much, would you like to know why?"
"Yes," he said. "You talking about it is better than me having to watch it. But why are you always angry with me? I haven't done anything to deserve it, especially not to you."
She hesitated for a moment while looking at him with a strange and very serious expression, and Declan had the feeling that when she spoke the words were not those she had originally intended to say. "You make me angry because you give me so many wounds to treat, and because most of them are yours.
"The snakes inside your belly are in fact a long, continuous tube," she went on before he could reply, "which takes out the good part of the food you eat and allows the poisonous waste that remains to be passed out of your back passage as excrement. The arrowhead made a small cut in this tube and it may have allowed a quantity of the fecal matter to leak and gradually find its way into the rest of your body. If that happened you would die, just the way that young boy shot with a poisoned arrow died on the ship. The fact that you haven't eaten for a long time, and will not be allowed to eat until the cut in the tube is healed, is good because the amount of poison in there should be small.
"Now I'll need both hands for the next part," she added, "so hold the seeing box over the wound, just here. That's it."
Again he gritted his teeth as the arrowhead moved from side to side and was coaxed. The pain eased as he felt but did not see a warm trickle run down and onto his stomach.
"And now," he said through dry lips, "you're letting it bleed clean?"
"No," she said, bending low over him. "This one will need more than that."
Declan felt her fingers pressing and pulling the wound open, then her lips being placed around it and the painful but strange sensation of the blood and he knew not what other poisons being sucked out. After a moment she raised her head, spat onto the ground, and bent over the wound again.
"Wait!" he said urgently. 'That is stupid. If the blood is poisoned you shouldn't be…"
"Stupid yourself," she said angrily, "I'm not stupid enough to swallow it!" She continued the process for what seemed to Declan to be a long time even though the tiny movement of the sun's shadow indicated otherwise, before she straightened up and said, 'That should do it. Any more of that and I'll end up sucking you inside out. I'm going to close and cover the wound now. After what has gone before it won't hurt you much. This has gone well, Declan, but now you must try to ease your mind, cover your body again, and let yourself sleep."
"I don't want to sleep," he said. "I want to talk."
"What about?" she said.
He remained silent until she had finished binding the wound and returned from the pool where she had rinsed out her mouth with cupped handfuls of clear water, washed the blood off her lips, and splashed some of it onto the back of her neck. From the sight of her perspiring face he realized that the sun must be hot even though he himself was just beginning to feel warm.
"About you," he said, "and why, after all you've just done, you're angry with me? You would be nicer to the horse if it had been wounded by arrows."
–
"Yes," she said, "because the horse wouldn't talk back to me. Please change the subject…"
She broke off suddenly to bend over him again, one hand going to his forehead and the other resting lightly on his chest. Muttering to herself, she moved to the opposite end of the litter and lifted it from the ground, unfolding a support that kept it in that position. Declan chose his words carefully and was surprised by his teeth chattering when he spoke.
"I'm not c-calling you stupid," he said, "but what h-healer's reason had you for t-tilting my feet up?"
"Because you're growing cold," she said, "and sweating, and your heart is beating fast but weakly. I was afraid of this happening. Despite your physical strength, the pain and duration of the surgery is sending you into shock. The treatment for shock, which is agreed upon by stupid healers from Hibernia to Cathay, is to elevate the feet so that the blood your heart is able to pump goes to your chest and brain where it is most needed. You must also be kept warm…"
She fell silent because Ma'el, whose hearing must have been very good, arrived beside her carrying another one of his strange, thin, but very warm blankets. She took it from him and draped it over Declan, tucking it around him as if he had been a child close to slumber while being careful not to press it against the underlying wounds. Ma'el spoke as soon as she was finished.
"Will he live?"
Sinead's face was angry, Declan saw, and her eyes were opening and closing rapidly. If he hadn't known her better he would have thought that she was blinking back tears.
"I don't know," she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ma'el Report. Day 113,089…
My earlier fears about the effect of revealing Taelon science to the female Sinead have proved groundless. She is both mentally flexible and pragmatic to a high degree, and shows no fear of what she still calls Taelon magic and, even though she cannot understand its workings, she insists that if she is properly instructed in its use there should be nothing for her to fear. Declan is still uneasy about what they refer to as the smaller djinns that land from time to time with information a
nd supplies, but he will not allow himself to show fear when Sinead is so obviously not afraid. The magic Sinead most desires and persistently requests is that which I cannot provide, a means that will enable Declan to recover from his wounds and continue living.
"Following her confused forecast of the arrival of the first djinn which ended the ambush of the caravan in our favor, I had hopes that she was at last developing the pre-cognitive faculty, but since then she has shown no other indications of possessing the time sense in spite of me questioning her closely regarding her dreams and the suppressed memories from her childhood. She cooperated fully in this interrogation even though the process was emotionally painful for her, but suggests respectfully that I am wasting my time.
"It now seems certain that the concealed and protected environment that I provided here was a wasted effort. My behavior toward them and the emotional attachment I have developed for these two members of a planetary population under investigation is lax and unprofessional in the extreme, and the fact that there was a possibility of the female developing timesight is no excuse, and neither are the increasing feelings of loneliness and lack of support engendered by my self-imposed withdrawal from the Commonality.
"When my male servant, the brave and resourceful Declan, expires as it seems he must, I shall reluctantly dispense with Sinead and install her comfortably in a place and among people of her own choosing, after which I shall seek out another female who with treatment will be able to see into this world's future.
"That has become a matter of great urgency."
–
With the sheet pushed down to his waist, Declan was half lying, half sitting on the litter that had been angled in the middle to form a legless chair. The tent awning shaded him from the sun and the gentle morning breeze, cooled slightly by its passage across the intervening water of the pool, fanned his hot, sweating face and upper body. Sinead placed her palm briefly on his forehead and it, too, was hot by the time she took it away.
"I don't understand this," she said, frowning. "Your shoulder and leg wounds, even the one in your side, have healed cleanly. All are being covered with healthy scar tissue. By rights you should be up and trying to walk."
"I did try to walk…" Declan began.
"Without me half carrying you," she went on. "Instead you are much weaker than you were after the battle, thinner in spite of the food I force into you, and with every few days a recurrent fever…" she looked at the perspiration beading her palm, "… that is increasing in severity. The potions you have been given and the roots you chewed that are used in many countries to reduce such a fever do not affect you, or perhaps are affecting you too slowly. You are burning up. We must cool you down or you will die."
He stared at her serious, concerned face for a moment, trying to make it remain steady among all the distorted, feverish images that were dancing around the inside of the tent. It surprised him that he was still able to speak clearly.
"I'll drink more cold water."
"You couldn't drink enough," she replied, pulling off his sheet and pressing the indentations on the litter that returned it to its customary flat shape as well as making it float in the air. "Instead of putting the water into you I'm going to put you into the pool."
"Wait!" he cried, the very thought of it shocking him into sensibility. 'That's a horrible idea. I'm not a Druid like you, I've never bathed in a mountain pool…"
"Try to be brave," she said scornfully. "You can survive it for a few moments. In we go."
"But you're going to bathe me," he said, "with all your clothes on. You'll catch an ague in wet garments and who will heal you? Or do you think…? No, Sinead, even if I was fit and well again I would never be roused to a frenzy by a scrawny, flat-chested child, nor would I try to take advantage of…"
"Enough," she broke in. "Look the other way."
He did not look directly at her as she pulled off her boots and began to disrobe, but out of the corner of his eye he saw her end by removing a broad, tight binding from around her upper back and chest. No wonder, he thought, surprised, she had looked like a young boy. She would not meet his eyes when she turned to face him again, but instead busied herself with lowering the litter until it floated on the surface before wading with it down the steeply sloping sides of the pool until they were at its center where the water was up to her waist. She did not speak but it seemed that her face was red from more than the heat.
"You're not all that young," he said, trying very hard to look only at her face. "You're old, but small. And without those chest bindings you are…"
"Such compliments," she said in a derogatory voice. "Scrawny and flat-chested, you said, and now old. Declan, have you ever won a woman with words, or first do you need to stun her with your long-axe?"
"Without them," he persisted, "you are slim and well-formed and pleasing to the eye and, and beautiful."
She inclined her head and was silent for a moment before she said thoughtfully, "That sounded better. There may be hope for you yet. Now hold your breath."
Her hands grasped the sides of the litter and pressed it under the surface. Heated by the desert sun as it was, the pool water was not cold, but against his burning skin it felt as though his body had been suddenly encased in a block of ice. Afraid of sinking deeper into it, his arms reached up instinctively and wrapped themselves around Sinead's neck. But she must have bent forward because he remained under for a long moment before she again raised the litter to the surface where he caught his breath and released his hold on her. Without mentioning the arms that had come close to strangling her, she placed a hand on his forehead.
"Better," she said, "but you're still too warm. I'm going to leave you alone for a while to try cooling yourself, by putting your hands and arms underwater or by sprinkling your body with it whenever you feel it necessary."
"Where are you going?" he asked, suddenly afraid of being abandoned. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
'To enjoy myself," she replied, smiling, "and you didn't."
In the event Declan did not have to sprinkle himself because Sinead was doing it for him as she swam in tight circles around the litter, sometimes diving under it and then surfacing with a great splash, or beating at the water enthusiastically with hands and feet. She was indeed enjoying herself to such an extent, that Declan wondered if there was still a lot of the child's mind inside that young woman's body. He was sorry when the watery disturbance settled and she swam over to feel his forehead again.
"Much better, but still too warm," she said, and dragged the litter to the sandy edge of the pool and across to the shade of the tent awning. "Here the breeze will dry off your wet body and cool you even more by evaporation. If you become too cold, use the blanket, and if the fever comes back we'll try the pool again." She moved a few paces beyond the tent and turned her back. "I must dress myself now."
Declan knew that he should have turned his attention to the wagon or the tent awning or his own dripping and unsightly body, but he would have felt both dishonest and stupid if he refused himself the chance to look at the only object of true beauty in the ravine.
"You have no need of that wrapping around you," he said. "It will make your breast flat again, but I will know what it hides and you will feel only its heat and discomfort."
"It is irksome," she said in grudging agreement, letting the binding fall to the ground and pulling on her burnoose.
"Your hair is long," he said, "and beautiful. There is the darkness of a starless night on it. You should not crush such hair into a ball to hide it under your helmet. We have no need of helmets in this place."
She didn't reply, but instead ran her opened fingers through the damp hair, spreading it out over her back and shoulders for quicker drying in the sun before she turned to face him. Her expression was thoughtful, and wary.
"Declan," she said, "the cold bathing seems to have worked wonders for your manners as well as reducing the fever, for suddenly your compliments are worthy of the silver tongue of Br
ian O'Rahailley himself. But his were usually bestowed with a selfish end in view and, well, I think I preferred it when your words were unmannerly but more honest.
"I must speak with Ma'el, now," she ended, "and light the cooking fire. Keep the blanket around you, lie still, and try to rest."
A few moments after she left him he did as he was told, but not before he sat up, rolled onto his hands and knees, and tried to climb to his feet with only partial success, and he came close to fainting while he was half crawling the short distance along the ravine to where they relieved themselves. It took all of his strength to cover his results with sand. He could not believe how weak he had become during the past few days and he was glad to roll back onto the litter and pull the blanket around him.
It was dusk when he wakened with his shoulder being shaken and Sinead demanding that he eat and drink some of the water with her foul-tasting herbs in it. He did try but she insisted that a hungry lark would have eaten more and that he should go back to sleep.
It was still night when next he wakened, shivering and with his limbs shaking so much that the sheet threatened to slip from his body. The lamp was turned down and the dividing screen had been partially removed in case he needed attention. He could barely see the muffled form of Sinead, who was sleeping with head, hands, and feet drawn inside her burnoose. He pulled the sheet tightly around himself and clenched his teeth to stop their chattering because he did not want to waken her or bear the brunt of her tongue if he did.
"I'm not sleeping," she said quietly as if reading his mind. "What's wrong with you? Has the fever returned?"
"N-no," he replied. "I c-cold."
In a moment, Sinead had the lamp turned up and she was kneeling beside him; her hand went to his forehead before slipping under the sheet to rest briefly on his chest and the upper muscle of his arm. Then she stood up quickly, turned and upended the bag that contained his clothing and emptied it onto the ground. Choosing his own burnoose and the bloodstained cloak, she spread them over him and waited for what seemed like a long time before speaking again.