Magnes reached out and lifted one of Ashinji’s eyelids. He observed no response, not even the barest flicker of awareness. He picked up Ashinji’s wrist and felt for the pulse that beat there, slow, but steady.
That’s one good sign, at least.
“I need to check the wounds and change the dressings,” he said, replacing Ashinji’s hand on the blanket.
Gran nodded. “I’ll help you.”
“I’ll need a basin and some warm water.”
While Gran went to fetch the water, Magnes began his work. He peeled back the coverlets to expose Ashinji’s torso, swaddled in bandages. He pushed the unconscious man over onto his side in order to look at his back. A large brown stain discolored the linen, something he expected to see.
Doesn’t look too heavy, though, thank the gods.
He dug in his satchel, retrieved a small knife, then began to cut the bandages. Carefully, he peeled away the soiled linen and bloody padding until his handiwork lay revealed.
The long, shallow slash across Ashinji’s ribcage looked good. The neat black stitches stood out in stark contrast to the paleness of the patient’s skin. The deep stab wound in the back, however, appeared red and swollen. Magnes leaned in close and sniffed. He breathed a sigh of relief.
No odor of rot…another good sign.
Gran returned with the water. While she held Ashinji up on his side, Magnes removed the sticky drain and washed the wound with an infusion of mallow root-excellent for inflammation. Next, he packed in a fresh strip of linen, applied a poultice of honeysuckle and comfrey and, with Gran’s help, bound up Ashinji in a fresh wrapper of clean bandages. Together, they changed the covering on the mattress and resettled the patient under a pile of fresh blankets. Throughout the entire procedure, Ashinji remained completely unresponsive.
“Where is Seijon?” Magnes asked as he helped Gran clean up.
“I sent the boy to get a bite to eat. Poor little monkey. He’s sick with worry. Ashi means the world to him.”
“I think I’ve come up with a workable plan to smuggle Ashinji and Seijon out of the city.” Magnes kept his voice low, even though he and Gran were alone.
“Tell me,” Gran responded.
“It all hinges on Mistress de Guera. You know she looks kindly on me ever since I gave her a remedy for her sick headaches. I plan on asking her to fund a traveling clinic for the Eskleipans. The wagon will need to be custom made, of course. It’ll have two storage bins beneath the main bed, plus a secret compartment Ashinji and Seijon can hide inside. You and I will simply drive the wagon out of town.”
Gran’s lips tightened in a frown. “The authorities may search the wagon at the city limits,” she said. “Many transports get stopped and checked before they leave.”
“I hate to ask because I know it’s a touchy subject, but what about your Talent? Can’t you use your abilities to…to…I don’t know, somehow cloud the minds of anyone who might get suspicious?”
Gran sighed. “I swore many years ago never again to use my Talent to manipulate another intelligent being. My own terrible arrogance and belief that I had the right to control others led to…well, to the destruction of everything I held dear.”
“This is an entirely different situation,” Magnes pointed out. “You’d be using your Talent in the service of good. I don’t pretend to understand all of it-evil spirits, a key, the end of the world-it’s all very confusing, but you’ve said so yourself…Ashinji has a vital role to play in this. Seems to me that none of us has much of a choice anymore.”
“You are right, my friend,” Gran murmured. She squeezed her eyes shut as if afflicted with a sudden, intense pain. “Ai!” she moaned. “Even after so many years…the wounds are still fresh!” She buried her head in her hands, thin shoulders shaking with sobs. Magnes could only stand helplessly by, unsure if she would recoil at his touch or welcome it. Tentatively, he reached out and laid a hand on her arm. Her skin felt smooth and soft, like that of a much younger woman. She did not shrink away, but neither did she indicate she wished for any more contact. Magnes contented himself with trying to emote as much comfort and sympathy as he could.
At last, Gran wiped her eyes. “Most times, I can cope, but every so often… Thank you, Tilo-or is it Magnes now?”
“Best I remain Tilo for the time being…At least until we’re out of Darguinia.”
Gran nodded. “You must be ready for a little refreshment,” she said. “I know I am. I’ll go and see what I can find for us in the kitchen.”
Magnes murmured his thanks as Gran left the infirmary. He stood for a few heartbeats, stroking his chin, and wondered if he would ever know the dark secrets that Gran kept locked away in the hidden storerooms of her soul.
Perhaps it’s best I never find out. Gran and I are alike; both of us have painful secrets that weigh us down. I wonder…Is the blood of family on your hands, too, Chiana?
Magnes remained for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, offering his services to any of the yard’s residents, both slave and free, who needed them. Gran and Seijon kept a constant vigil at Ashinji’s bedside, leaving only to tend their own bodily needs. Fadili showed up at sunset, stating his intention to remain and help for as long as Magnes needed him.
Just after moonrise, Ashinji grew restless and began to thrash and mutter. The fires of fever could be useful in small doses, but if left to rage unchecked for too long, they would consume the patient from within. Magnes, well aware of this, knew what he must do. The next few hours would prove crucial.
At Magnes’ direction, a pair of slaves brought a tub into the infirmary and filled it with cold water. With Fadili’s help, he first removed the bandages, then transferred Ashinji-still in the grip of delirium-to the tub and held him down while he struggled and raved. Gran positioned herself at his head and laid her hands on his temples.
“Quiet… quiet now, dear one,” she whispered, and after a few moments, Ashinji’s struggles subsided into sporadic twitches of arms and legs, though his eyes continued to jerk restlessly beneath closed lids.
Magnes watched and waited, and when he judged the patient had soaked long enough, he and Fadili lifted Ashinji out of the tub and held him up while Gran carefully blotted him dry. Together, they carried him back to the bed.
As Magnes redressed his wounds, Ashinji startled them all by abruptly sitting up. His eyes, round and glassy, focused straight ahead at an image only he could see. “Jelena!” he cried out in a voice made hoarse by illness. He then whispered a few words in Siri-dar and fell silent. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
“Ashi, can you hear me?” Magnes asked, but he got no response. Ashinji’s consciousness clearly wandered in other realms. After a few more moments of wide-eyed silence, he slumped back on the bed.
“Jelena…That’s Ashi’s wife’s name, right?” Seijon asked. The boy looked at Gran.
“Yes, it is,” she replied, and Magnes immediately picked up on the troubled tone in her voice.
“Is there something wrong, Gran?” he asked.
“There is much that is wrong, but I’m in no position to do anything about it at the moment,” she answered. “Right now, I must concentrate all of my energies on helping you keep Ashi alive.”
By the time Magnes finished with the dressings, shivers wracked Ashinji’s body. Gran piled on more blankets and they all settled in to wait.
The night crawled toward dawn. The moon, just past full, had slipped below the horizon when Ashinji once again grew restless with fever. Magnes and Fadili returned him to the tub for another cold soak.
“If the fever doesn’t break soon, he won’t survive,” Fadili observed grimly. Magnes knew the truth of Fadili’s words, but he still couldn’t bring himself to voice his agreement.