A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [61]
In the morning when they rode out, twenty more warriors came with them and a herd of extra horses, too. Aderyn was shocked when he realized that some of those warriors were women. At noon that day they met up with a single alar, heading south, which donated six fighting men, three women archers, and a horse laden with arrows. At sunset, they rode into Nananna’s camp to find it huge. Other dweomermasters had heard Nananna’s call for help and sent their people, among them sixty warriors with spare horses and weapons both. After all, Halaberiel remarked, they were going to need every sword they could get.
“Our longbows are just hunting weapons. I don’t imagine they’ll be much good against Eldidd armor. I don’t know, of course—we’ve never tried it.”
“Ah.” Aderyn tried to nod sagaciously, then fainted dead away.
He woke to find himself lying on his back on a spread of cushions in Halaberiel’s enormous tent. Dweomer light shimmered near the smoke hole. At first he thought his injured hand was bleeding badly; then he realized that it was draped into a wooden bowl of warm herb water to soak. When someone knelt beside him he turned his head to find Dallandra, her beautiful eyes all grave concern. He thought that all his pain was well worth it, just to see her worried about him.
“That rotten Round-ear chirurgeon did a clumsy enough job on your hand,” she snapped. “We’re just lucky that the humors haven’t turned foul.”
“Well, I didn’t exactly follow his orders. Ye gods, my mouth! Is there water?”
She handed him a wooden cup of spring water and watched while he drank it all, then refilled it from a skin lying nearby.
“How do you feel other than your hand?”
“A little tired, but I’ll be all right. It’s just that the beastly thing aches so much.”
She got up and moved round to lift his hand out of the water and dry it off on a scrap of clean cloth. Her touch was so light that he felt no pain, not even in his splinted fingers.
“I’ve gotten the bindings wet,” she remarked, “so they’ll shrink as they dry and pull the splints tighter.” With a little frown she laid her hand on his and stared at the splints, her lips a little parted in hard thought. The pain seemed to run out of the wounds like spilled water. “There. Better?”
“Much! My thanks, truly, a thousand times over.”
“When it starts hurting again, come to me and I’ll do it again.” Gently she laid the hand down on a cushion and picked up the bowl of filthy herb water. “I’ll just throw this away.”
As she left, Aderyn heard her speak with someone; in a moment Halaberiel came in. The prince had traded his fine clothes for a pair of tight leather trousers, a plain shirt, and a heavy leather jerkin that looked as if it would turn a blade or two.
“Dallandra says you’ll recover. I’m glad to hear it.”
“My thanks, Banadar. I hear a lot of noise outside. Have more men ridden in?”
“Fifteen, that’s all. But we’ve got a good-sized warband now, and we may pick up a few more as we ride north. I imagine Melaudd’s scraping up every man he can, too. I’ve sent a scouting party ahead to the lake. The rest of us will leave tomorrow.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Are you sure? There’s no need …”
“There is. I’m a herbman, aren’t I? If things come to battle, you’ll need me more than five swords.