The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [74]
Micum handed him his belt knife and Seregil carefully cut the fabric away from the wound. The arrowhead was lodged in the muscle between Alec's shoulder and neck. A few inches to the right and it would have hit his spine. It was a painful wound, but not a serious one.
It meant pulling or cutting it out, though, depending on the type of arrowhead and how barbed it was. "You'd better lie down. I can get a better purchase on it that way and get it over with."
Alec stretched out on his belly in the snow and rested his face in the crook of his right arm. "Just do it!"
Micum held down Alec's left arm and Seregil straddled Alec's waist. The bloody stump of the arrow was long enough to get a good grip on, but slippery. He grasped it and pulled as Alec stifled a growl against his sleeve. To everyone's relief, it pulled out clean. Instead of being barbed and triangular, the head had the long leaf shape meant to pierce a stag, or a man, deep into the organs.
He packed a handful of snow against the wound and showed Alec the arrow. "You were lucky. Your coat must have helped stop it. Micum, would you bring some water and a cup? Sebrahn--" He paused, looking around. A trail of small footsteps in the snow led back the way they'd come. Sebrahn hadn't gotten far, but he was going as fast as he could through the snow.
Seregil sprinted after the rhekaro and grabbed him around the waist, swinging him off his feet. Sebrahn didn't struggle as Seregil lugged him back, but he kept staring off in the direction they'd come from.
"Where in Bilairy's name were you headed?" Seregil snapped, puzzled and annoyed in equal measure. Sebrahn just pointed in the direction he'd been trying to go.
"No, Alec's over here and he's hurt! How can you not know that?"
A cup of water stood ready in the snow, and Micum had wiped the knife clean. Alec was still bleeding, and covered in gooseflesh.
"Hurry now," Seregil urged, putting Sebrahn down beside him.
The rhekaro cut his finger and made half a dozen healing flowers, pressing each to Alec's wound. It slowly stopped bleeding and closed up, leaving an angry pink circle of flesh.
"That's better," Alec said, still breathing a little fast as he flexed his left arm. Sitting up, he gathered in Sebrahn with his good arm and hugged him. "Where were you off to?"
Sebrahn just looked over Alec's shoulder at his own footsteps in the snow.
Seregil frowned down at him. "What I want to know is what could be more important to him than healing you? He knew you were wounded. That's why he sang."
"Did it sound the same to you as his killing song?" asked Alec as he pulled his bloody clothing back on.
Seregil shrugged. "I don't remember, but the power of it damn near knocked me off my horse. It's a wonder I'm not dead."
Alec pushed the tangled hair back from Sebrahn's face. "Where were you going?"
Sebrahn pointed again.
"Yes, but why? Who were you going to?"
Sebrahn said nothing, just pointed again.
"Is someone hurt?"
Sebrahn knew yes and no pretty reliably, but again he just pointed.
"It doesn't matter now. We've got other problems." Micum picked up the broken arrow and wiped the head clean in the snow. "This is interesting."
"What is?" asked Alec.
"The shape of this arrowhead, and the way the edges are serrated. It's a damn lucky thing that you had a thick coat and were nearly out of range. I've never seen one like this in Skala, or anywhere else."
"I have," said Seregil, frowning. "Some of the southern clans use arrowheads like that."
"You think someone followed us all the way from Aurenen?" asked Alec.
"I don't know, but that's where that arrow came from." He picked up the other part of the broken shaft. "See, it's fletched with four vanes, rather than three. I've seen that among the Golinil clan members."
"But they aren't a southern clan," Alec pointed out.
Seregil twirled the broken arrow between his fingers. "No, they're not. So we have a southern arrowhead on a Golinil shaft."
"I'd say someone is trying