Elyon's Ghost, page 9
Seeing Terrowyn’s hesitation, Sábria stepped in. “If you don’t think you can make the decision, Terrowyn, I’ll be happy to make it for you. But I understand Ghost is your responsibility, and I trust you to make the correct decision. Perhaps we can limit the number of people around the bed when we remove her clothing?”
Picking up on the hint, the junior healer, Jili, immediately excused herself, saying that she had other patients to attend to.
Terrowyn knew the decision shouldn’t be such a difficult one. She made split-second decisions on deadnight shift every single time she stepped onto the streets. Life and death decisions that she never thought twice about. She realized that while she cared about the other Blades and shivs who either answered to her or who worked with her, she felt something more for Ghost.
Dismissing the idea that what she felt might be love, she forced herself to switch into Senior Guardian mode. With what sounded to her like an audible click, her thoughts ordered themselves, and she knew what needed to be done. “Of course. I’m not sure what I was thinking. Of course, we need to check to make sure she’s not hurt anywhere else. I’ll find someone to ask Mistress Dunaid if she has any togs that might fit her. I know when other skellies die here, she cleans and mends their togs so other sick or hurt sewer rats can use them. I don’t think Ghost should wear brand-new clothes, though….” She looked to Sábria for confirmation.
“You’re absolutely right. If she were to appear on the streets with a brand-new set of clean clothing, she’d be attacked and stripped naked before she got halfway back to wherever she lives.”
“The sewers. She lives on the shelves in the sewer system.”
Kara scrunched her brows. “Shelves? In the sewer system?”
Knowing Terro didn’t like explaining herself, Sábria answered the healer. “For whatever reason, when the architects designed the sewers, they built shelves halfway up the walls. There’s a shelf located in the middle of every block the sewers pass beneath, and each one spans the length of two grown men lying head-to-foot across and, let me think, it’s been a while, but if I remember correctly…” she looked to Terrowyn for confirmation, “…they run to a depth of about one man deep.”
Terro nodded distractedly.
Sábria sighed. “No wonder it was so critical for you to bring her here. And, if that’s the case, I think we’re somehow going to have to keep her here for a while. Even after Kara takes care of that leg, if she returns to the sewers, there’s no way that gash won’t become infected.”
As luck would have it, Emlyn came into the room, saluted Sábria, and bowed slightly to the Master Healer. “My Lady, Commander Shirin is looking for you, and she asked me to find you.”
“Tell her I’ll be here for a short time. Also, please see if Mistress Dunaid has some used but clean trews and a tunic that would fit Ghost, would you?”
“Of course, My Lady.”
When she’d gone, Terrowyn took hold of the waistband of Ghost’s trews and pulled them down off her legs and over bare feet.
The skelli was little more than a skeleton, which was, in fact, how the street urchins had earned that moniker in the first place. Terrowyn felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Through trial and error, she’d learned that Ghost could only keep down a small amount of food without bringing it back up.
Tamping down the guilt, she mumbled more to herself than to the others, “Every time I tried to give her more food, she’d throw it up, or I’d find her squatting in th’ sewers with green water pourin’ from her backside. I’ve tried.” Crossing her arms, she looked to the Master Healer, hoping she’d understand the problem and offer a solution. “Goddess knows I’ve tried. I just don’t know how to put meat on her bones because every time I give her anything other than biscuits and apple slices, her body rejects it.”
Lady Haria put a finger to her chin, a familiar habit to those who knew her well. “Depending on how long we’re allowed to keep her here,” she glanced at Sábria, “I can help with that. When I first became a healer, I worked in Winsal’s slums during the famine. Once the famine ended, we had to gradually reintroduce food to the populace, or their bodies would have the same reactions as your little skelli. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Terrowyn. She may look like a skeleton to you, but she’s actually healthier than a lot of the skellies that come through our doors. You’ve done well with what you have to work with.”
Feeling that she should be the one to undress Ghost, Terrowyn moved to the head of the bed, and with a grimace, she pulled the filthy rags over the child’s head.
Lady Haria pointed to a shallow tub full of water in the corner of the room. “Put her clothing in that, please. I’m sure they’re full of fleas and other little beasties that I’d rather not have running around the infirmary.
Terrowyn didn’t notice that the older woman had softened her words with a smile. She took the clothing—if you could still call the filthy rags clothing—and when she returned, Lady Haria indicated Ghost’s curly hair with a flick of her fingers. “It would also be best if we cut off her hair, but I don’t think that would be wise, given that she lives out in the elements. Head hair protects against burning from the sun, and it also holds in body heat. Especially that curly mop.”
She turned to one of the pidges working in the infirmary. “Simret.”
A girl in her early teens with blonde, shoulder-length hair gathered at the nape of her neck turned their way. Brown eyes set too wide for the thin bony face looked eagerly at the Master Healer.
“Fetch a bowl of water and have Jilli show you where the potion is for killing lice. When that’s done, bring it here, and then I want you to wash this child’s hair.”
Terrowyn shook her head. “If it’s all the same to you, Master Haria, I prefer to do it myself.” In her usual brusque manner, she turned to the pidge. “Just bring me th’ water with th’ potion mixed in, and I’ll do th’ rest.”
The pidge dipped into a slight curtsy and pulled her bangs. “Aye, Guardian.” Most of the pidges who worked at the Temple had come seeking refuge from an abusive father or husband or employer. Usually, they were relocated to different cities and set up in some type of trade where they could support themselves and their family if they had one. Occasionally though, one would have skills that were lacking within the Temple.
When the pidge left to carry out Haria’s orders, Sábria cocked her head, trying to remember where she’d come from. “Her mother is the one who does such lovely embroidery, isn’t she? The one who came to us with a broken jaw?”
Lady Haria straightened from examining the gash on Ghost’s leg. “She is. The girl seems to have a knack for tending the sick, and since one of our servants left to go to Osaron, her mother asked if Simret could take her place.” She smiled and gave Sábria a knowing look. “She’s not exactly the brightest I have working for me, but she’s enthusiastic and more than willing to help.”
Sábria had dealt with many not-too-bright women who turned out to be some of the best workers in the Temple. “There are times when dealing with those who lack intelligence is easier than trying to explain yourself to those who are too bright for their own good. I prefer a hard worker myself.”
When Simret returned with a bowl full of soapy water, she handed it to Terrowyn, who placed it on the small table next to the bed. Simret also presented her with a strangely shaped basin.
Terrowyn stared at it, wondering what she was supposed to do with it.
Simret took back the basin and knelt at the head of the bed. “If you look here, Milady, er, forgive me, if you look here, Guardian—” she blushed slightly at her gaffe and hid her face by peering beneath the bed. When Terrowyn joined her, she pointed to two parallel tracks approximately the length of her forearm.
“Huh.” Terrowyn, who’d never spent much time in the infirmary, was surprised that the bed was split into three sections. There was a shorter section at the head with hinges, then a longer portion beneath the body, and a second set of hinges separated the body portion from that beneath the lower legs. Finally, the lower leg portion was separated into two side-by-side sections, and these were also bisected by two hinges.
Simret set the strange basin on the floor. She grasped the hinged section of the bed beneath the head and lifted slightly. “If ya hold this up with yer hand, ya can pull these bars down, and then ya can lower this part. Ya put yer hand under th’ skelli’s head. Uh….” She hesitated a moment, not used to demonstrating from beneath the bed.
The Master Healer saved the day by taking a clean cloth and holding it beneath the back of Ghost’s head.
Looking inordinately relieved, Simret smiled up at the older woman. “Thank ya, Milady. I never showed naught before.” She turned back to Terrowyn. “Ya lower the head part like this, and then, look here,” indicating two parallel tracks running forward to back in the center portion of the bed. Picking up the basin, she pointed to the two prongs extending out from it, “Ya jam in th’ sticks here, until ya hear summat. That way ya know it’s locked in.” She demonstrated, pushing the basin in until there were two loud clicks.
The two women stood, and Kara grinned. “Now that you have an idea how the bed works, we changed our minds. We’re going to take her to a bathing tub where we can clean her properly and get rid of all of the fleas, not just those on her head. Judging by all these bites, she must be covered with the little beasties. Not to mention all those welts from that rope need to be cleaned as well.”
She started to slip her hands beneath Ghost’s back and legs, but Terrowyn stopped her. “I’ll do it.”
Kara pinched a portion of the healer’s gown she’d put on and shook it. “In that case, you’ll need to put one of these on over your uniform. All we need is for you to get fleas and then infect the dorm with them.”
Terrowyn blinked down at her uniform. She’d dealt with flea-infested hovels before and had no intention of ever living in one. She glanced back at Kara and shook her head, “Maybe it’s better if ya go ahead and move her then. The last thing I need is to have th’ jumpers in my togs and covers.”
Just as Kara picked up Ghost to transfer her to the tub, Shirin strode through the large square opening that led from the hallway into the critical care room.
Sábria excused herself and met the Commander halfway. “Emlyn said you were looking for me. I hope she gave you my message?”
“She did. I wanted to see how Terro’s skelli is faring, and I have a message from the palace, so I thought I’d shoot two arrows from the same bow.”
There was a slight commotion over by the tub, and the two women turned to see what was happening. Kara’s professional blank expression was firmly in place, but Terrowyn wasn’t even trying to hide her disgust. “Holy fowkin’ donkey’s balls, are those fleas jumping off her head into th’ water?” She stepped back and vigorously brushed the front of her tunic and her sleeves.
Kara held Ghost’s head above water with one hand and was massaging something into her hair with the other. “Give it a little time for the herbs to work, Terrowyn. You must have run into nobs and lollies with heads full of lice before. This stuff kills them the instant it touches them.”
“They never jumped off in entire regiments before. Look at that. The sweiven water’s full of the skizzy things.”
“That's why we have two tubs, one right next to the other. The first is for most of the dirt and crawly beasties that come off, and once the patient’s mostly clean and bug-free, we move them to the second tub.” She chuckled at the look of utter disgust on Terrowyn’s face. “We have done this before, you know. Quite a bit, actually.”
Sábria grinned at the back of Terrowyn’s head and started for the hallway. When Shirin joined her, she put her hand on her back. “It seems the Goddess has Terrowyn in her sights this turn as far as providing her with personal growth opportunities. Keep an eye on her for the next several days, will you? And tell Ursuna to do the same. I’ve never seen her quite so off-balance before. Good call on that, by the way.”
When Shirin nodded, Sábria continued, “Now, what’s the message from the palace?”
“I didn’t open it, but it has Lord Dunham’s seal on it. I’m afraid it might have something to do with Octavia, but I have no way of knowing.”
“How much of a problem is your old playmate going to be, anyway? Do you think she’ll make trouble with Aloric? That’d be all we need with his meddling in Temple business.”
Shirin looked down at the cobblestones and scuffed a toe over one as they walked. “I wish I could say not, but she was spoiled by her parents and then doubly spoiled by her husband. My only guess is he got tired of her petty, pouty ways and got rid of her to bring in a newer, more pleasant model.”
“Goddess bless, that’s all we need. Well, show me the message, and we can go from there.”
Shirin stepped aside to allow Sábria to enter the Citadel first. “I left it on your desk. After you, My Lady.”
The two women nodded at the guard on the door and climbed the stairs to Sábria’s office.
CHAPTER 10
Ailith slept longer than usual, and the dinner bell had just rung when she stepped out for her daily run. Her previous master, Lady Knight Isobel, had gotten her back into the habit of a daily run before she’d returned to Dreyutha several full moons earlier. Running accomplished two things for Ailith. First, if there was any residual stress left over from the previous night’s work, the run allowed her to think and work through her problems or concerns.
The second benefit was simply the physical aspect of keeping in shape. When she’d been with the Dreyuthan Army, she’d run into the mountains and up the hills building strong leg muscles and healthy lungs. Since there weren’t any mountains nearby, she’d taken to running the city’s perimeter, lengthening the distance a little each day.
She carried her sword and knives not only to add extra weight but also because of the realities of a single woman running alone through the city’s streets. Often, other Blades joined her, and at times four or five of them could be seen running down alleys and past the docks, gradually increasing their pace until they were racing back to the Temple to see who would be the first to fly through the gates and into the inner courtyard.
That evening, she found herself running alone. Because she’d overslept, she’d gotten a late start and was having to run faster than normal to get back to the Temple before the gates closed. Ever since she’d learned that shivs weren’t allowed out of the Temple after dark unless accompanied by their handlers, she’d made it a point to get back in time.
Just as she thought she’d need to cut the final leg of her run short, she happened to catch a glimpse of what she thought might be a woman in an off-white dress hurrying down an alley. She ran a few more paces, thinking, “No, it couldn’t be,” before stopping and backing up several steps. She stared down the narrow lane and barely caught sight of the woman as she disappeared around a corner.
Knowing what she needed to do and hating herself for it, she altered course and jogged after her. “Please, Goddess, don’t let it be her.” She repeated the mantra several times over until she rounded the corner and saw that it was, indeed, Octavia hurrying down the streets.
She considered leaving her be, but it appeared the noblewoman was heading to the docks. Unfortunately, the only way to get there from this street was to travel directly through the Codpiece. “Fowk.”
That part of the lower quarter was no place for a single woman, let alone one of noble birth. Ailith looked around, searching for a gloaming shift Blade, but there was none to be found. Growling quietly, she ran after Octavia, catching her just as she rounded another corner.
Tears streamed from the noblewoman’s eyes, and when she saw Ailith, her grief morphed into the same haughty anger she’d displayed in the warehouse. She bared her teeth and growled, “Get away from me, you filthy peasant.”
“Believe me, I wish I could. But it’s no safe for ya out here alone. Ya need to come back to th’ Temple with me, and then, if ya still want to go to th’ docks, just talk to th’ Commander about havin’ someone on gloamin’ shift bring ya there. Or I can take ya when I start th’ deadnight shift. I’m sure Jenx won’t mind.”
“Do you actually think I’d let Shirin lord it over me that the King refused me entrance to his palace? Me? Lord Grenlin’s wife? One of the most powerful men in Tuviste? Well, that’s not going to happen. Shirin would love it. I can just hear her saying, “I told you so,” as soon as I walk through those gates.” She flipped her hand in Ailith’s face. “Get away from me.”
Not willing to let this woman’s stupidity kill her, Ailith followed her down to the docks, searching the whole time for a Blade or for someone she could send back to the Temple for Commander Shirin.
She followed Octavia from ship to ship and Captain to Captain as the woman demanded they give her passage to Tuviste. The ships were moored on either side of the dock, and the haughty noblewoman crossed and recrossed the wooden boardwalk as she moved from one behemoth to the next, ordering mostly drunken sailors to fetch their masters.
When the sea captains emerged, the woman promised each one that Lord Grenlin—the same Lord Grenlin Commander Shirin said had sold her into captivity—would pay them well for her return. Not surprisingly, no one was willing to grant her free passage home.
Finally, Ailith saw one of the nints she’d befriended while working deadnights with Jenx. Befriended might be too strong a word. She gave the lad food, a biscuit here or pasty there, in exchange for whatever intelligence he could provide. He was small for his age, not unusual for a Codpiece orphan. His ears stuck out of his unruly shock of brown hair, and dull, brown eyes sat too close to his round, snub nose.
She motioned him over, and when he ran up, she pulled a copper from her pocket. She held it between two fingers. “This is yers if ya run to th’ Temple Gate and tell th’ guard Ailith says that Commander Shirin needs to come to th’ docks.”
