Ashi! You can’t die… I don’t know what I’d do!
“He’s in here, Mistress!”
Magnes looked up to see Seijon rushing into the infirmary, followed closely by Mistress de Guera. She pushed past Aruk-cho to gaze down at Ashinji lying on the table. “How bad is he?” she asked, her voice clipped and business-like, but her eyes betrayed her genuine feelings.
“Very bad, Mistress,” Magnes replied. Wrestling his own fear into temporary submission, he added, “He’s sustained a deep stab wound. I’m trying to slow the bleeding so I can assess what needs to be done to repair it.”
“Gods,” Mistress de Guera whispered. She turned to Aruk-cho. “I want the man who did this. Find him!” she snapped.
“I know who hurt Ashi,” Seijon spoke up, his face puffy and red from crying.
“Who did this, boy?” Aruk-cho rumbled.
“That asshole Leal! I saw him attack Ashi. I ran to get help, but I was too late!” His face crumpled and he began sobbing once more.
Magnes caught the look that passed between Aruk-cho and his mistress.
“I’ll return as soon as I can,” the akuta promised, then he and Mistress de Guera departed. Magnes turned his attention back to the problem at hand.
How will I save the life of my friend?
“Gran, I know you have abilities…Talent, as your people call it…that are especially powerful,” Magnes said. “You used it just now to bring Ashinji back from the dead, didn’t you?”
Gran had never looked truly old to him until now. “No. I didn’t bring Ashi back from the dead,” she replied. “Not even I am that powerful!” She shook her head. “His spirit had floated free of his body, yes, but the cord that binds the spirit to flesh had not yet broken. All I did was pull his spirit back into his body.”
Gran held out another wad of linen to replace the blood-soaked one Magnes had pressed to Ashinji’s wound. He applied the fresh compress and tossed the used one to the floor.
Thank the gods the bleeding seems to be slowing!
After maintaining the pressure for a while longer, Magnes peeled back the compress and closely examined the two wounds. A plan formulated itself in his mind.
I’ll stitch up the shallow cut completely, but the deep wound will need to drain. I’ll close only the top part and leave a small opening at the bottom for fluids to escape.
“I need Fadili, my assistant,” Magnes said, looking across the room at Seijon, who sat by the door, sniffling and wiping his eyes. The boy scrambled to his feet, nodded, and darted from the room.
Gran laid her hand on Ashinji’s forehead, inhaled sharply, and shot Magnes a grim look. “He is very close to death, Tilo. Almost too close to pull back. I can hold him in his body, but I don’t know for how long.”
Magnes gazed into the face of his friend. Pale and still, it looked more like a death mask than the face of a living man, yet it had lost none of its beauty. A bright smear of blood stained Ashinji’s cheek, standing out in sharp contrast like a rose on marble. Magnes’ heart twisted painfully in his chest as he once again fought to master his strange and unruly emotions. He leaned over and whispered in Ashinji’s ear.
“Ashi, if you can hear me, listen carefully. I won’t let you die. I’m going to sew you up and then you will live. Jelena and your child need you. Focus on them!”
“He can hear you,” Gran said. “Your words are helping!”
“I am here, Brother!” Fadili rushed into the infirmary, carrying the satchel Magnes used to transport all his equipment and medicines.
Seijon flew in a heartbeat later, hard on Fadili’s heels. “Aruk-cho found Leal hiding in the latrines! ” the boy gasped, breathless from running. “He tried to lie… said he didn’t do anything, but there was blood all over his clothes. Aruk-cho threw him in the hole.” He looked at Magnes, eyes pleading.
Magnes didn’t have the heart to tell the boy, who so obviously loved Ashinji, that death could still claim their friend, despite all of Magnes’ skills as a healer. Magnes himself didn’t want to face that grim reality, but he had no choice.
Fadili and Magnes had worked together for many months now, and the young Eskleipan apprentice knew exactly what Magnes would need for any given task. Quickly, they fell into the rhythm of experienced partners.
While Magnes laid out all of the tools he would need, Fadili filled a copper basin with water and set it in the fireplace to heat. Next, he and Magnes stripped the remnants of their patient’s blood-soaked tunic away. Gran remained at Ashinji’s head, perched on a stool, her hands resting on his hair. She sat with eyes shut, unmoving, as if in a trance.
Fadili went to the hearth and fetched the basin of warmed water. Using clean strips of linen, he washed away most of the sticky gore clinging to Ashinji’s skin. Magnes then studied the ragged margins of both wounds. The deep gash still oozed fresh blood, but far more slowly than before.
Got to close the big one first , he thought. Fadili had rinsed the basin and refilled it, then returned it to the fire to heat up once more. He now stood at Magnes’ elbow, a small stoneware jar in one hand and another water-filled copper basin in the other.
The Eskleipans were considered medical eccentrics by the major Soldaran healing orders, snickered at by some, scorned outright as dangerous rogues by others. During his time with them, Magnes had discovered that they practiced medicine more like what he had seen in Kerala among the elves. They revered cleanliness in all things; Magnes had learned that lesson very quickly under the demanding tutelage of Brother Wambo.
He held out his hands and Fadili poured a dollop of sharp-smelling liquid soap into his palms. The Eskleipans always washed with this special soap before performing any procedure. Leke Ndomo himself had formulated it many years ago; lately, Magnes had further refined the recipe. The simple act of hand washing saved many a life that would have otherwise been lost to wound rot. Why this was so, no one had yet figured out, but it worked.
After a thorough rubbing, Magnes rinsed the soap from his hands and dried them on a clean towel. Next, Fadili did a second washing around Ashinji’s wounds with the medicinal soap, then rinsed the entire area clean with fresh water.
“Now, we’re ready to begin,” Magnes said. Fadili nodded in silent reply.
Magnes hadn’t started out performing surgery. His interest lay in medicinal herbology, but spending a day observing the order’s chirurgeon, Brother Jouma, at work, had sparked an interest in broadening his studies. Now, he and Fadili performed all of the surgeries at the yards where the order held contracts.
Magnes had seen and treated many wounds during his time at the yards, both minor and horrific, but his stomach had yet to rebel and his hands had always remained steady. This time, though, proved different.
This man is my friend…my kinsman…
And…I…
No. I can’t feel that. Mustn’t let that out.
He drew in a deep breath to steady himself, and swallowed the bile burning the back of his throat.
Concentrate on the task. Only the wound matters .
Throughout the initial prep, Ashinji had remained motionless, but as Magnes probed the major wound, he began to stir.
“Gran, keep him still if you can,” Magnes said as he inserted his index finger into the gash to ascertain its depth. Ashinji moaned and Gran muttered under her breath, as if in prayer.