gates and hurried back the way she’d come.
The hold was large enough that they would most likely have all she needed to tend to Trad’s leg. Holder Tem claimed to own all the game in the woods, but perhaps she could still barter her skills in exchange for a few days rest. If not to hunt, perhaps to tend the ill. If the hold had no healer, then there would surely be a few folk who could use a poultice or a healing draught.
The stable boy had watched her inquisitively, but without fear. This must be a peaceful land, she thought. And it appeared that the folk of Tem Hold had not heard of her flight from Toril. Perhaps she could rest here, for a few days at least.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kira sat on a wooden crate. An oil lamp burned low, its small glow struggling to push back the darkness. She leaned forward in the dim light, head heavy with fatigue. Trad’s wound was still inflamed, but the oozing pus had lessened. Harl had done well, preparing the herbal tincture just as she’d requested. Trad had balked at first, skittering sideways when she touched his leg. After a great deal of coaxing he’d finally allowed her to settle his foot into the bucket of drawing fluid. The herbal concoction had done its work, pulling out the pus and purifying the wound.
She wrapped the wound, using clean strips of linen cloth soaked in a fresh mixture of drawing fluid and winding them around Trad’s ankle. As each cloth cooled, she removed it and replaced it with a fresh one. The sour smell of sickness mixed with the aroma of herbs.
Kira sat up, stretching the stiff muscles of her back. She was about to toss another used bandage onto the pile of discarded rags when something in the folds of fabric caught her eye. A long black sliver gleamed darkly against the pinkish yellow stains of bloody drainage.
A shard from one of the troll’s claws! She hurled the rag down in disgust. No wonder Trad had been in so much pain. The filthy beast had left a part of itself embedded in Trad’s leg. She grimaced, then realization and relief spread through her. Now that the source of pain and inflammation was gone, the wound would heal.
Harl lay curled in the straw, snoring quietly. The trek back to the hold had taken until well after full dark, but when Kira had arrived at the gate, cajoling the big gray one step at a time, Harl had been waiting. He’d helped her settle Trad into a stall and stayed with her, lending a hand, far into the night. He’d asked Kira intelligent questions about what she was doing. It was obvious he wanted to learn what she knew about animals. Even after she’d seen him yawning wide, his eyelids drooping, and had urged him to go to his bed, the boy had remained. When he could no longer keep his eyes open, he had refused to leave the stall, telling her it was his responsibility to watch over the animals in the stable when the stable master was away.
Kira gave Trad a gentle pat on the chest. He was still feverish, but his shivering had lessened. With the crisis passed, what he needed most was rest. She leaned her head against the wooden slats of the stall. Closing her eyes, she reached out to Kelmir and Vaith to let them know she and Trad were fine. She soon found herself drifting in and out of their thoughts, the sights of the forest mixing with hazy dream images as she fell into a half-waking sleep.
A rustle of straw pulled her back to wakefulness. Harl was awake and sitting up, brushing wisps of straw from his hair. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said. “But if I don’t get to the kitchen soon, there’ll be no hot morning meal for me.”
“It’s all right,” Kira said. “I was only resting my eyes.”
“The horse. Is he all right?” the boy asked, studying Trad.
“It seems he will be,” she said, sitting up. “The fever has nearly broken and I think we’ve removed the cause of the swelling.” She pointed to the cloth on the stable
The hold was large enough that they would most likely have all she needed to tend to Trad’s leg. Holder Tem claimed to own all the game in the woods, but perhaps she could still barter her skills in exchange for a few days rest. If not to hunt, perhaps to tend the ill. If the hold had no healer, then there would surely be a few folk who could use a poultice or a healing draught.
The stable boy had watched her inquisitively, but without fear. This must be a peaceful land, she thought. And it appeared that the folk of Tem Hold had not heard of her flight from Toril. Perhaps she could rest here, for a few days at least.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kira sat on a wooden crate. An oil lamp burned low, its small glow struggling to push back the darkness. She leaned forward in the dim light, head heavy with fatigue. Trad’s wound was still inflamed, but the oozing pus had lessened. Harl had done well, preparing the herbal tincture just as she’d requested. Trad had balked at first, skittering sideways when she touched his leg. After a great deal of coaxing he’d finally allowed her to settle his foot into the bucket of drawing fluid. The herbal concoction had done its work, pulling out the pus and purifying the wound.
She wrapped the wound, using clean strips of linen cloth soaked in a fresh mixture of drawing fluid and winding them around Trad’s ankle. As each cloth cooled, she removed it and replaced it with a fresh one. The sour smell of sickness mixed with the aroma of herbs.
Kira sat up, stretching the stiff muscles of her back. She was about to toss another used bandage onto the pile of discarded rags when something in the folds of fabric caught her eye. A long black sliver gleamed darkly against the pinkish yellow stains of bloody drainage.
A shard from one of the troll’s claws! She hurled the rag down in disgust. No wonder Trad had been in so much pain. The filthy beast had left a part of itself embedded in Trad’s leg. She grimaced, then realization and relief spread through her. Now that the source of pain and inflammation was gone, the wound would heal.
Harl lay curled in the straw, snoring quietly. The trek back to the hold had taken until well after full dark, but when Kira had arrived at the gate, cajoling the big gray one step at a time, Harl had been waiting. He’d helped her settle Trad into a stall and stayed with her, lending a hand, far into the night. He’d asked Kira intelligent questions about what she was doing. It was obvious he wanted to learn what she knew about animals. Even after she’d seen him yawning wide, his eyelids drooping, and had urged him to go to his bed, the boy had remained. When he could no longer keep his eyes open, he had refused to leave the stall, telling her it was his responsibility to watch over the animals in the stable when the stable master was away.
Kira gave Trad a gentle pat on the chest. He was still feverish, but his shivering had lessened. With the crisis passed, what he needed most was rest. She leaned her head against the wooden slats of the stall. Closing her eyes, she reached out to Kelmir and Vaith to let them know she and Trad were fine. She soon found herself drifting in and out of their thoughts, the sights of the forest mixing with hazy dream images as she fell into a half-waking sleep.
A rustle of straw pulled her back to wakefulness. Harl was awake and sitting up, brushing wisps of straw from his hair. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said. “But if I don’t get to the kitchen soon, there’ll be no hot morning meal for me.”
“It’s all right,” Kira said. “I was only resting my eyes.”
“The horse. Is he all right?” the boy asked, studying Trad.
“It seems he will be,” she said, sitting up. “The fever has nearly broken and I think we’ve removed the cause of the swelling.” She pointed to the cloth on the stable
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