Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [126]
“We will discuss this later,” I went on, as the carriage rattled into motion. “With everyone present. It is time for a council of war!”
FROM MANUSCRIPT H
* * *
Emerson sent the men home earlier than usual that afternoon. His wife had not returned, nor had Nefret turned up.
Ramses went at once to the clinic. There were two people in the waiting room, a very pregnant girl of about fourteen, and a child racked with an incessant dry cough. Nisrin was with them, looking very professional in a tightly wound white headcloth and a man’s galabeeyah that had been shortened at the hem and the sleeves. “Nur Misur is very busy, but I will let you go in,” she announced.
“Kind of you,” Ramses said, and went through into the surgery.
To his surprise, the patient was Daoud. He gave Ramses a sheepish smile and Kadija, standing over him with folded arms, said, “Marhaba, Ramses. Tell this stubborn man to show Nur Misur his hand. I had to make him come to her.”
Finding himself outnumbered, Daoud obeyed.
“It needs to be stitched,” Nefret said, inspecting the ugly gashes that ran across his large palm and the insides of his fingers. “How on earth did you do this?”
Daoud mumbled something. Kadija said, “Someone left a hegab—a charm—lying in front of the house, and Daoud, fool that he is, picked it up.”
“It was a fine hegab,” Daoud protested. “Large and silver, with red stones. I would have asked who had lost it. But when I closed my hand over it, it cut me.”
“What did you do with it?” Nefret asked.
“I buried it,” Kadija said. “It was a holy thing, but broken. Sharp as a razor along two sides.”
Nefret selected an instrument and bent closer. “It’s a good thing you did. There’s something metallic deep in the wound. Hang on, Daoud.” She exchanged the probe for tweezers and before long she had it out—a needlelike bit of metal half an inch long. “Good heavens, Daoud, this must have hurt badly. Why didn’t you come to me right away?”
“I put the ointment on it,” Daoud said defensively.
That was obvious. His palm was green.
“That probably prevented an infection,” Nefret said, with a nod at Kadija. “Well, now we know why the owner discarded it. Let me make sure there are no other broken pieces embedded.”
Daoud sat like a large brown statue while she cleaned the cuts and put several neat stitches into them before bandaging his hand.
“Change the dressing every day,” she said to Kadija, giving her a box of bandages. “I don’t have to tell you what to watch out for.”
“No, Nur Misur. Thank you.”
“How does it feel to be back in harness?” Ramses asked, as Nefret cleaned her instruments and put them away.
“Wonderful. I should have done this ages ago. Nisrin, show in the next patient, please.”
“Have you been at this all day?” he asked. “Can I help?”
“No, thank you. If you want to do something useful, go and play with the children.”
That puts me in my place, Ramses thought. Baby-tender. The children were gathered in the courtyard. His advent was greeted with cries of relief from the adults who were present, and cries of welcome from his daughter, who ran to him holding out her arms. He picked her up. She jabbered imperatively at him, her black eyes bright and demanding.
“Mama has been busy with a poor sick man,” he said, assuming that was what she wanted to know. Apparently that was only part of it; she tugged at his shirt and dug her knees into his midriff. He had learned to interpret that gesture. He helped her climb up onto his shoulders.
“High time you got here,” said Lia. “As usual, you men left us to do the hard work.”
“Not me,” David protested. He was on his hands and knees, giving Evvie a ride.
“Everybody but you,” Lia said.
The women looked as if they had had a hard time. Lia’s hair was in wild disorder, and Evelyn was leaning against the back of the sofa, her eyes half closed. Sennia was conspicuous by her absence. He couldn’t blame her; it