"Calm down, boy," Mika said soothingly as he stroked the wolf between his ears and scratched his throat. "You know I wouldn't do anything to up» et you unless it were necessary. \bu have to trust me. We've been together too long for you to start doubting me now."
The words, the tone, or both seemed to soothe the wolf, but Mika wanted to be certain he wouldn't snap in fear or pain. He rummaged about in his supplies and filled the tiny bone pipe with crushed wolfsbane and lit it. Trying not to inhale, he cupped his hand behind the wolfs head and blew the smoke directly into Tam's nostrils. After several puffs, Tam's agitated heartbeat slowed and his pupils dilated. He was as ready as he would ever be.
Dipping the silk cloth in the hot liquid, Mika began swabbing out the wolfs wounds with the hot herbal brew. Soon Tam's pelt was streaming with the fragrant fluid which pooled beneath him on the needle-strewn ground.
Mika worked quickly, packing the clean wounds with the thick healing salves and stitching the jagged edges of skin together in the worst instances, while keeping the wolf calm with his voice.
Tam began to move restlessly, showing signs of recovering from the effects of the wolfsbane. Mika hastily filled the pipe again and, taking a deep pull of the narcotic smoke, blew it into the wolfs nostrils. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to hold the smoke in his mouth and had no sooner exhaled the last of the smoke than he felt the familiar warm lassitude spread throughout his own body. Shrugging mentally, he took another pull on the pipe and blew it more or less in Tam's general direction. Just to make sure the wolf was really out, he loaded the pipe again. However,
Tam seemed to be sleeping, so he was forced to smoke it all himself.
It took him a minute to think of what he was supposed to be doing. Then he remembered. Sighing heavily, he turned the wolf over and began cleaning the wounds on the other side. One of the hyenas had seized Tam's tail in its teeth and in the struggle had pulled the flesh as well as the skin away from the vertebrae for the length of a finger joint. The flesh on either side was already swollen and discolored.
Tam was still sleeping, but Mika felt nauseous looking at the mangled flesh and felt the need to fortify himself. "Only a puff," he murmured as he relit the pipe.
Eyes blinking dreamily, he put down the pipe with exaggerated caution and once more bent to the onerous task.
"Ugh!" he said with a shudder as he rinsed the horrible wound with the cleansing liquid. "Now I know why I didn't want to do this for the rest of my life!" But still, he felt grateful that he had learned the skill, for without it, his friend would surely have died.
At last the awful injury was cleaned and the worst of the mutilated flesh trimmed away with his knife. Mika packed the remainder of the salve around the wound. There was a great deal of flesh still exposed, and Mika knew that it had to be covered or it would attract insects that would lay their eggs in the flesh. Mika sighed and smiled, then wrapped the pink silk cloth round and round the wolfs tail and tied it in a knot. Tam would not be pleased and would do his best to remove it, but with luck it would stay until a scab had formed.
Mika leaned against the rough trunk of the spruce, the branches coming down on all sides of them like a living wall, shutting out the outside world. The small fire had warmed the space, and he was tired and his head still ached. He stared into the fire and blinked. His eyelids drooped, then closed, and he drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 16
Mika wakened slowly. Everything hurt. His head throbbed and his eyelids were thick and swollen. His throat was dry and his stomach was cramped. Every single joint was stiff and sore. And he was cold. He groaned in misery.
Tam added groans and whimpers of his own. Mika sat up and rubbed his head, which was now scabbed over with dry blood. His hands and arms were covered with Tam's blood and his body was rank with old sweat. He could feel a line of blisters beginning to rise under the edges of his tunic at neck and shoulders.
Mika flexed his arms and rolled his head cautiously, feeling the muscles complain at the smallest movement.
Tam lay still, barely lifting his head from the ground. He tried to wag his tail, but even that small effort was too much, and he stopped after one feeble wave.
"By the Great She Wolf, if we feel this terrible after such a little encounter, pray the gods we never have to go into a real battle," muttered Mika.
The roan, hearing Mika's voice, whickered softly.
Mika crawled out from under the overhanging branches and looked around carefully. The day was dark and grey. A dense rain-swollen cloud cover hung over the ridge, obscuring its upper reaches from sight. Mika stared up at the almost vertical drop, frankly astonished that they had descended it safely. No sane person would purposely choose that route unless he had a death wish.
The roan was tossing his head impatiently, and as Mika untied him from the tree limb, he butted him gently in the chest with the flat of his head. Mika shook his own head in quiet amusement.
He had been riding for almost as long as he had been walking and never had he viewed a horse as anything but an uncomfortable but necessary means of transportation. He had known of nomads who had an almost mystical relationship with their horses, but he had never felt such warmth for a horse until now.
After leading the roan to the stream and allowing him to drink his fill, Mika tethered him in a patch of grass. Then he tended to the princess.
She was beginning to look a little shopworn, Mika reflected as he untied her from the horse. He supposed that it was partially his fault for leaving her draped over the horse overnight. After all, there were limits to what one could expect from magic spells. Even one cast by the best of magic-users. For instance, her need for food and water was magically suspended. But even the best spell didn't extend to clothes and dirt.
The princess's hair hung down over her head, all dusty and dirty with muddy drops where the horse had splashed water. Her dress was filthy and wrinkled and had torn in several places. Maybe she would look better right side up, Mika mused.
But she didn't. The princess was definitely a mess, and of course, she was still sound asleep.
"This is getting tiresome," Mika said between gritted teeth as he slung her over his shoulder and tottered toward the stream. "The least she could do is carry her own weight."
Mika sat the princess down at the edge of the stream and propped her up against the trunk of a tree. Ripping yet another strip off her gown, he dipped it in the cold water and rubbed it over her face. The water ran in muddy rivulets down her bosom, which no longer looked quite so attractive.
In fact, the whole princess thing was beginning to pall. She was about as much fun as listening to a lecture on the medicinal properties of goldenwort.
Other questions now presented themselves. Now that Recknass and Hary were dead, what about the mission to ransom the princess?
And where would Mika take her if they ever got to Eru-Tovar? How would he locate the mysterious magician? And what should Mika do if the magician demanded payment in advance? Mika sighed and shook his head. All of these new problems made his head ache just thinking about them.
He finally abandoned the cleaning of the princess as a lost cause and turned his attention to his own needs. Stripping off the sweat-stiffened leather tunic, his single remaining boot, and his loincloth, he waded into the stream.
The water was cold but invigorating. Mika found a sinkhole near the edge of a greenery-hung bank and submerged until only his head stuck out, staying there until he felt the last of the tension ease from his body, as well as the multitude of aches and pains.
After a while, he moved to a more shallow location where a layer of white sand lay thick on the floor of the stream. This he scooped up by the handful and rubbed over his body till his skin tingled and squeaked beneath his palms.