she looked back. Something passed between them, but Céline had no idea what.
Picking up the jar of adder’s-tongue ointment and a clean rag, she said, “All right, this won’t be pleasant.”
Turning her attention to his wounds, she remembered that one of the reasons she’d come here was to examine anyone injured by the afflicted soldiers. Judging by the distance between the claw marks on Marcus’s back, whatever had done this to him must have had enormous paws.
She started at the top of his shoulder and began to work her way down. He didn’t gasp or flinch once, and she knew the poppy syrup could not be dulling all the pain. When she finished cleaning all the wounds, she put away the adder’s-tongue and switched to a mixture of ground garlic and ginger in vinegar.
“This is going to sting, but it will ward off infection,” she said, dabbing the mixture onto a clean rag and touching it to his back.
Again, he didn’t flinch.
When she’d finished with that, she wrapped his shoulder as best she could and helped him get his shirt back on. He let her.
Mercedes stood up suddenly, seeming uncomfortable. “We can’t pay you anything.”
So weary by now that she was having trouble staying on her feet, Céline leaned on the table. “We didn’t come for payment.” Then something occurred to her. “Oh . . . there is one thing, perhaps a favor you might help us with.”
Mercedes’s entire body went rigid. “A favor?”
“Yes, we had to pack light for the journey, and Amelie and I were only allowed one extra wool dress forday wear. We nearly ruined the ones we wore on the journey here. I have blood on mine from tending to an injured soldier. How can we get them laundered here? Could you allow us to use your washtub and clothesline?”
Mercedes’s expression turned incredulous, and then she barked out a single laugh. “That’s your favor? Help with washing a few gowns?” She shook her head. “You bring them to me, and I’ll launder them myself. I can get blood out of wool.”
“Thank you.”
Still sitting on the bench, Marcus was watching Céline with his black eyes, as if trying to figure her out. She put on her cloak and gathered up the box of supplies as Amelie moved to join her.
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Céline said, hoping she sounded businesslike. “Marcus, don’t take off those bandages, even if the wounds itch.”
Mariah made room in the doorway, and Céline headed out, nearly tripping on the stairs from exhaustion. The sun dipped low. Was it only that morning that she had waved good-bye to Corporal Bazin and the other soldiers from Sèone and then followed Jaromir into this encampment? It felt as if whole days had passed.
Jaromir was waiting for them near the path up ahead, but as Amelie walked beside her, Céline whispered, “What do you think of those three back there in the wagon?”
“I think someone in their family has a penchant for names starting with the letter
M
.”
This attempt at humor was so unexpected that Céline couldn’t help the corners of her mouth turning up. Amelie could almost always make her smile.
“In truth,” Amelie added, “I think Mercedes is angry, but she lets it out. Marcus and Mariah are holding in a lot of hatred.”
That was Céline’s assessment as well.
“Marcus and some of the Móndyalítko men must have signed contracts with Keegan,” she said. “Horses to pull the wagons or not, I can’t think of any other reason why they’d stay here . . . and Marcus hates the soldiers.”
“Yes, but how much does he hate them?”
How much indeed?
Jaromir came walking to meet them. “You look done in.”
“You’ve no idea,” Céline answered. “Can we go to our tent and rest for a while?”
“Of course.” He took the box from her and led the way down the path back toward the soldiers’ camp.
“Did you learn anything from the men?” she asked.
“Not a lot, only that there have been three attacks by these . . .
Picking up the jar of adder’s-tongue ointment and a clean rag, she said, “All right, this won’t be pleasant.”
Turning her attention to his wounds, she remembered that one of the reasons she’d come here was to examine anyone injured by the afflicted soldiers. Judging by the distance between the claw marks on Marcus’s back, whatever had done this to him must have had enormous paws.
She started at the top of his shoulder and began to work her way down. He didn’t gasp or flinch once, and she knew the poppy syrup could not be dulling all the pain. When she finished cleaning all the wounds, she put away the adder’s-tongue and switched to a mixture of ground garlic and ginger in vinegar.
“This is going to sting, but it will ward off infection,” she said, dabbing the mixture onto a clean rag and touching it to his back.
Again, he didn’t flinch.
When she’d finished with that, she wrapped his shoulder as best she could and helped him get his shirt back on. He let her.
Mercedes stood up suddenly, seeming uncomfortable. “We can’t pay you anything.”
So weary by now that she was having trouble staying on her feet, Céline leaned on the table. “We didn’t come for payment.” Then something occurred to her. “Oh . . . there is one thing, perhaps a favor you might help us with.”
Mercedes’s entire body went rigid. “A favor?”
“Yes, we had to pack light for the journey, and Amelie and I were only allowed one extra wool dress forday wear. We nearly ruined the ones we wore on the journey here. I have blood on mine from tending to an injured soldier. How can we get them laundered here? Could you allow us to use your washtub and clothesline?”
Mercedes’s expression turned incredulous, and then she barked out a single laugh. “That’s your favor? Help with washing a few gowns?” She shook her head. “You bring them to me, and I’ll launder them myself. I can get blood out of wool.”
“Thank you.”
Still sitting on the bench, Marcus was watching Céline with his black eyes, as if trying to figure her out. She put on her cloak and gathered up the box of supplies as Amelie moved to join her.
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Céline said, hoping she sounded businesslike. “Marcus, don’t take off those bandages, even if the wounds itch.”
Mariah made room in the doorway, and Céline headed out, nearly tripping on the stairs from exhaustion. The sun dipped low. Was it only that morning that she had waved good-bye to Corporal Bazin and the other soldiers from Sèone and then followed Jaromir into this encampment? It felt as if whole days had passed.
Jaromir was waiting for them near the path up ahead, but as Amelie walked beside her, Céline whispered, “What do you think of those three back there in the wagon?”
“I think someone in their family has a penchant for names starting with the letter
M
.”
This attempt at humor was so unexpected that Céline couldn’t help the corners of her mouth turning up. Amelie could almost always make her smile.
“In truth,” Amelie added, “I think Mercedes is angry, but she lets it out. Marcus and Mariah are holding in a lot of hatred.”
That was Céline’s assessment as well.
“Marcus and some of the Móndyalítko men must have signed contracts with Keegan,” she said. “Horses to pull the wagons or not, I can’t think of any other reason why they’d stay here . . . and Marcus hates the soldiers.”
“Yes, but how much does he hate them?”
How much indeed?
Jaromir came walking to meet them. “You look done in.”
“You’ve no idea,” Céline answered. “Can we go to our tent and rest for a while?”
“Of course.” He took the box from her and led the way down the path back toward the soldiers’ camp.
“Did you learn anything from the men?” she asked.
“Not a lot, only that there have been three attacks by these . . .
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