Kellea’s herbs weren’t going to do much for Paulo. His lower left leg was broken in at least two places that I could see, possibly one more from the way he moaned when I touched his swollen knee. A shard of bone protruded through mangled flesh and sinew above his ankle, and he was bleeding profusely. At the least we had to straighten the breaks and stop the bleeding. Yet, even if we could keep the injury from killing him with sepsis or blood loss, I doubted the limb would ever be usable.
Kellea unrolled a small leather bundle containing a number of paper packets and small tin boxes. Tearing open a packet, she crushed several dark green leaves in her palm, transferred them to Paulo’s tongue, then gave him a sip of wine to wash them down. “This’ll make you sleepy, so it won’t hurt so very much. We’ll give it a little time to work before we see to your leg. Same as we did for Graeme when he was hurt. You remember.”
He nodded ever so slightly.
I tried to blot away some of the blood from his ankle, but when I so much as touched the grotesque wound, he sucked in his breath and his face went even whiter. Little whimpering moans caught at the back of his throat. “Ah, Paulo, I know it’s awful. But we have to press on it a bit to stop the bleeding. Can’t have you leaking all over the blankets.”
While Kellea stoked the fire to roaring and put a pot of water on to boil, I held the ragged remnant of Paulo’s breeches on his wound. First we cleaned the wound with wine and boiled oak bark from Kellea’s packet and forced the bone back inside, and then I held his upper body while Kellea pulled and twisted his poor limb into some semblance of alignment. Gripping my arms, he buried his face in my breast and did his best not to scream. But he couldn’t manage it. His racking sobs tore me to the heart. After a while he fell insensible again and we finished the horrid task as best we could. From a small tin, Kellea extracted an oily yellow paste and spread it onto his torn flesh, then bandaged and splinted his leg with pieces of a broken crate, binding it with lengths of our rope. So pitifully little we could do.
Kellea was almost as pale as the boy when she was done. “It’s far from straight, but I just can’t get it to move any more,” she said. “We’d have to use rope and pulleys to make it right, but even then I’m afraid we’d just do more damage. I’m no surgeon.”
I threw Kellea’s cloak over her shoulders as she dribbled willowbark tea into Paulo’s mouth. Then I moved the horses farther into the deep cave and unsaddled them, giving them a cursory wipe-down with a piece of sacking Paulo kept for that purpose. We couldn’t afford to have them die on us. I dared give them only half a ration of grain from Paulo’s emergency supplies. Who knew how long we’d be here? By the time I had done what I could for the beasts and hauled the rest of our supplies close, Kellea had fallen asleep.
All through the night we took turns watching Paulo and feeding the fire. I forgave the bandits their crimes in thanks for the wood. Paulo shivered and moaned quietly, and I gave him more of the willowbark tea. What on earth were we to do?
At some time, I fell asleep without waking Kellea. When my shoulder was touched lightly, guilt set me apologizing even before I could unglue my eyelids. “Is he all right? I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” I fought my bone-weariness to sit up, but my dream refused to be banished with the opening of my eyes. Paulo lay beside me, his cold hand gripping mine. His face was pinched and pale, but bore a trace of his old grin as he gazed up at the one who knelt on the other side of him.
“This will hurt for a moment,” said the newcomer, his voice quiet, weaving a cocoon of peace and reassurance, “but nothing as to what you’ve done already. Then I’ll be with you, and we’ll take care of it. All right?”
Paulo nodded, a silver knife flashed in the firelight, and Karon’s words of healing scattered embers of enchantment like fireflies through the cave.
CHAPTER 14
A Dulcé had shaken me awake. “My lady,” he whispered. “Would you be kind enough to step outside where we could speak? I would most appreciate it. The Prince has said it will take him a goodly time to care for the boy.”
“Yes… yes. Of course.” This could not be a dream if I was stammering so foolishly. “Of course I’ll speak with you.”
Kellea’s blankets lay empty, no sign of her in the cave. I wrapped my cloak tight, dragged my eyes reluctantly from Karon, who was binding his bleeding arm to Paulo’s, and stepped into the dawn light. Kellea wasn’t outside either. The only tracks in the snow were the sun-melted muddle of our foot-and hoof-prints from the previous night.
The Dulcé followed me out of the cave.
“I didn’t even feel it change,” I said in wonder, pulling the pink stone from my tunic and clasping it in my hand to savor its lingering warmth. “We had a difficult evening.”
“So it would appear.” The bearded man’s eyes glinted with good humor. “And, in our great hurry, we most rudely gave you little warning.”
Recovering some measure of politeness, I said, “You seem to know me, but I’ve not had the pleasure…”
“My name is Bareil,” he said, bowing in the way of the Dulcé, with one arm extended and one behind his back. “Dulcé, as you see. Guide to Master Dassine for thirty years and now privileged to perform that service for Prince D’Natheil.”
“Where is Dassine? I’ve news of such urgency…”
His smile dimmed. “Master Dassine is dead, my lady. Two days ago at the hand of unknown assassins.”
“No! But what of the Prince… his recovery… his future…?”
“I’ll tell you all that I may, but if you please, a question first. What’s happened here? The boy inside… who is he?”
“His name is Paulo. He was leading us down the mountain last night. Lost his footing and fell. We didn’t know-”
“The peasant boy who accompanied you and the Prince to the Bridge last summer.” The certain eagerness that had sparked Bareil’s question sagged into disappointment. It put my hackles up.
“A brave and honorable boy, who was as responsible for saving the Bridge as anyone. If you know his name, then you know-”
“Please, madam”-Bareil flushed and held out his hands in an eloquent apology-“I am quite familiar with the merits of the boy Paulo and honor him as I do all who aided us in that great victory. But I will confess that I was hoping- Ah, the Prince must explain.”
Biting my tongue, I stepped away from the cave mouth to the edge of the path. Pink and orange harbingers of the sun spilled over the peaks we had crossed, tinting the snow-blanketed landscape all the colors of flame. Below us, much closer than the forever distance of my night’s imaginings, were the trees-pine and fir of deep green, nocked on this morning in snow, colored rose and coral. But my heart was behind me in the cave, and I could not keep silent, no matter the moment’s irritation. “How does he manage with Dassine dead?”
Bareil stepped up beside me, his arms folded under his cloak. His low voice bore everything of kindness. “You must understand, my lady, that a madrissé may not discuss his madrisson or his madrisson’s business with anyone, no matter how close. It is a violation of the absolute trust that must exist between them.”
“I understand that.” Of course, understanding did nothing to heal resentment.
“Master Dassine had a unique confidence in you, Lady Seriana. Because I must enlist your aid in carrying out his last wishes, I will stretch my oath so far as to say this: if you question the state of the Prince’s heart, then he grieves sorely; if you question his will and courage, they are undiminished. But if you question the state of his recovery, it is not complete, and so I must ask you- The Preceptor Dassine entrusted me with the knowledge of his purposes and his plan for D’Natheil, so I must beg you to abide by all that he required of you.”