They arrived at the camp at dusk. Tashi was relieved to see that it was a more substantial place
than she had anticipated, consisting of semi-permanent domed tents made from hides stretched
over bent poles. Each dwelling had its own chimney and garden plot. Melletin led them to his
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tent, one of the largest in the settlement.
"Please enter and take your rest. I must report our arrival to my commander and seek approval
for my decision to bring you here. I'll also send a doctor for the lady." He gave Tashi a wary look, but whether that was because he still thought her a witch or because he remembered her skill
with the sling, she didn't know.
Tashi was left alone in the tent while Ramil and Gordoc saw to the horses.
She stretched out with a sigh of pleasure on the cushions spread on the cheerful home-woven
rugs. The tent smelt of fresh rushes on the floor and wood smoke. Melletin's things were spread
around untidily. There was a neat little stove in
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the center with a pipe leading outside. Tashi held her chilblained hands up to the warmth,
feeling them tingle as they defrosted.
She heard a polite cough at the door. Tashi turned to find a man with long white hair and a
neatly trimmed beard waiting for permission to enter.
"Please come in," she said, half-rising.
"No, no, don't get up," said the man briskly, plumping his bag down on the floor beside her. "I'd be a poor doctor if I made my injured patients leap to their feet on my arrival."
"The wound's not so bad now."
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"Let me be the judge of that, young lady," the doctor said sternly. "Now let's have a look at it."
Shyly, Tashi drew aside her clothing. Alert to her embarrassment, the doctor began talking again
to take her mind away from his examination.
"My name is Norling, Professor Tadex Norling, formerly of the University of Molinder, our old
capital, now chief medical officer of the new capital of all true Brigardians, fondly known as
Fenbog."
"I'm honored, sir, to have your attention," Tashi said, guessing that this was quite a comedown for the august professor of medicine.
"God in his wisdom has seen fit to return me to my professional roots. Who am I to argue with
Him?" He unwound her makeshift bandage and gave a disgruntled hum. The wound was still
oozing blood and clearly giving the patient much pain.
"What did this and when?"
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"An arrow, four days ago."
"I suppose some fool ripped the head out without waiting to have it removed properly?"
"We were in something of a hurry to avoid more of these in our backs."
"Humph. You're lucky you came to me. It should have been stitched immediately, but I'll do my
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best. I'm afraid you'll have a scar for the rest of your life."
"Small price to pay, sir, for what I avoided in running away."
The doctor threaded a needle he took from a clean pack. "And what was that?"
"An unhappy marriage--"
He gave a world-weary sigh. "There're plenty of those, my dear."
"To Fergox Spearthrower."
"In that case, you got off very lightly indeed." He glanced up at his patient.
"This will hurt, I'm afraid."
The doctor was impressed: she uttered not a moan as he stitched the wound.
"Good girl. You only needed four," he announced, snapping the thread.
"Only four. That's very auspicious," she said dryly. "Thank you."
"I'll remove them in a few days. Keep the wound clean and let me know if anything changes."
"Yes, Doctor."
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He looked her over again, noting her thinness and signs of recent ill treatment. "I'd say what you need most is rest and good food."
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"I like that prescription."
"I don't suppose you want to say where you got those?" He pointed to the bruises on her arms, legs, and chest. He leant closer. "If the men you are with have been violent towards you, I can
help. We have laws against that kind of thing here."
Tashi gave a strained hiccup of laughter. "You are very kind. No, my companions have treated
me with the greatest possible respect and
tenderness. I got these because I'm a witch, apparently, and wouldn't fight the priests of Holin."
Professor Norling sat back on his heels and tutted. "Disgraceful. Sometimes I despair of my
fellow countrymen. Their minds are nests breeding
superstition and fear. I have a salve that will help those heal. Rub it on twice a day and they'll be
gone by tomorrow night."
Melletin returned with Ramil and Gordoc.
"I apologize, my lady, but the commander deems it necessary to see you immediately," he said.
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Professor Norling shook his head. "My patient needs rest. She certainly shouldn't go traipsing
around the camp: I've just this moment finished stitching her up!"
Melletin grimaced. "Perhaps you might like to explain that to the commander.
Rather you than me, Professor."
"How is she?" Ramil asked anxiously.
"She would be much better if some idiot hadn't torn out the arrow," Norling replied, throwing his equipment back into his bag. Ramil looked abashed.
"But she'll do very well now as she's fortunate enough to have the best doctor in Brigard to look after her."
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"And the most modest," Tashi slipped in, keeping her face straight.
"I'll carry her to this commander of yours," said Gordoc, cutting through the difficulties with his usual clear-sightedness. He wrapped Tashi in a blanket and picked her up. "Lead on."
Melletin guided them through the maze of wooden pathways connecting the camp. The ground
was so wet it would soon turn into a quagmire without the boards, he explained. Professor
Norling tagged along behind the party, still muttering about doctors never being listened to or
respected in this uncivilized hole.
The commander resided in a tent double the size of the others, divided into several rooms.
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Melletin showed them into the first of these, the public area, and then disappeared through a
flap to inform his leader of their arrival.
Ramil began to feel nervous. It was all very well persuading a patrol by force to take them in, but
how would the commander look upon their presence? It surely wouldn't have escaped his
attention that Fergox would be ripping Brigard apart to find the two fugitives.
A man of medium height and heavy build pushed the flap aside and strode into the room.
Dressed smartly in the same green and brown colors of his patrol, he had curly dark-red hair and
a hooked nose. No one could look into his face and make the mistake that here was a man to
mess with. He gave a perfunctory bow.
"Prince Ramil ac Burinholt, Princess Taoshira, welcome to Brigard," he said, taking a chair behind a table. "Please be seated." Melletin came in with some
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camp stools and set them on the rugs in front of the commander's desk.
Professor Norling bustled forward. "Your Grace, my patient cannot perch on that thing. She
needs a proper chair at the very least."
The man rose and picked up his own chair, bringing it round to Tashi.
"Will that do, Tadex?" he asked, taking a stool for himself.
Norling nodded and retired with his professional dignity intact to the pile of cushions at the side
of the chamber. Gordoc placed Tashi in the chair, then stood behind her, arms folded.