The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [151]
Two days out from Plenimar there was no sign of pursuit, but Alec and Micum still walked the deck, looking back over the Lady's wake. Ulan i Sathil could probably guess where they were headed, if he chose to pursue them. But the sea was empty again today.
Seregil was healing quickly enough to be restless, and they found him in Rieser's cabin, chatting with Konthus while the drysian tended to the Hazad's wound. Rieser appeared to be tolerating both of them with an effort.
"I don't understand it," Konthus was saying. "This is infected, in spite of all my efforts. It must be from the shattered bone, or some bit of arrowhead left in the wound."
"I've suffered worse," Rieser told him. "Just do whatever you can, healer, and leave me in peace."
The drysian frowned but went about draining a little pus from the wound and packing it with fresh herbs and honey salve. "I'll give the cook the makings of a posset for the pain. That's all I can do for you, friend. And now for you, Lord Seregil."
After a quick look at the splinted finger and Seregil's back, he set about unwrapping the bandages from Seregil's ribs and probed the wound hard enough to make Seregil hiss in pain. "This is healing well."
"I guess I just heal more quickly," Seregil gasped.
"You can thank the Maker for that. If the arrow had gone any deeper, you'd not be sitting here now." He wrapped fresh bandages tightly around Seregil's ribs to keep the bones stable, then placed his hands on Seregil's head and spoke a spell.
"Thank you, brother," Seregil said. "That's the best I've felt in days."
"I only wish I could do as much for your friend."
As soon as the drysian was gone, Rieser opened his eyes and rasped, "I want to see the books."
Alec went to his cabin and returned with them. He kept them wrapped in a cloak during the day, and spread out on the cabin floor at night to dry them. The pages were rippled and curling at the edges, and the writing in the halves of the red journal was smeared in places beyond recognition. The other two, the ones in code, were otherwise undamaged.
"You were right about not throwing them in the sea," Micum remarked, trying to smooth the pages of the brown book. "Who knows whose hands they might have washed up into."
"I haven't thanked you for saving these, and us, Rieser," Seregil told him. "But you have my gratitude. I'm in your debt."
"And me," said Alec.
"And I, and my family," added Micum with a half bow. "You'll always be welcome at my door."
Rieser looked up at him, face betraying little. "I'm told it was you who pulled me from the water after I was struck."
"That's right."
"Then we are even and there is no debt on either side."
Micum shook his head, grinning. "Well, you're welcome at my door anyway."
After a few days, Seregil's side still hurt badly enough by nightfall to keep him from lying down flat to sleep, but Rieser was in worse shape. His broken shoulder blade was a constant source of pain, and the arrow wound was still infected, the skin around it a swollen, angry red. Rhal's healer dressed their wounds several times a day and used his healing spells and potions, but they only slowed the infection spreading through Rieser's shoulder without curing it. The fever from it kept him in his bunk for the duration of the voyage. The others looked in on him through the day, though he didn't welcome their attentions.
"You've caught yourself a strange one there," Captain Rhal observed over supper one night. "Not a real friendly sort of fellow."
"Not really," Seregil agreed with a wry grin. "He's an interesting man, though, and a good fighter."
"What's going to happen when you get him back to his people?"
"We'll see, won't we? I'm prepared for a less than warm welcome, especially if Rieser dies on us before we get there."
"Sounds like you could use some help," said Rhal.
Seregil raised an eyebrow. "I was thinking the same thing. Could you spare me ten men? I'll do my best to get them