Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(115)

Max snorted. "I ought to dump you in one of your latrines and leave you there." But despite his words, the big northerner bore Tavi toward the medical wagons, careful not to jostle his friend's leg.

"Just keep your mouth shut," Tavi said, when Max got him to the wagon. "Until we know what he's doing."

"Right," Max said. He left Tavi in the hands of the healers, then pulled his centurion's baton from his belt and jogged off to pull his soldiers into proper marching order.

Foss appeared from one of the other wagons. The bearish old healer hopped up into the bed of the wagon Tavi sat in and briefly examined his leg. "Hungh. Accident, huh?"

"Yes," Tavi said.

"Should have just bribed the First Spear to let you drive a wagon, kid. Don't have to be a real good bribe for something like that."

Tavi frowned. "How much? Once I get paid..."

"Cash only," Foss said, his voice firm.

"Oh. In that case, I told you," Tavi said. "It was an accident."

Foss snorted and poked at Tavi's leg.

It felt like a blade sinking into his skin, and he clamped his teeth together on a hiss of pain. "And I spent all my money at the Pavilion."

"Ah," Foss said, nodding. "Got to learn to balance your vices, sir. Lay off a little on the wenching, save something for avoiding work." He dragged a long, slender tub from the back of the wagon, and filled it from a couple of heavy water jugs. Then he helped Tavi remove his boot, an agonizing process that made Tavi promise himself that he would take off the boot before he broke his own leg, the next time.

Foss hadn't begun the healing yet when the Legion's drums rolled, putting the column on notice that it was almost time to move. A moment later, a clarion sounded from the head of the column, and the wagons and infantry began to move. At first, they moved quite slowly, until the men and horses reached the causeway, then they picked up speed. A double-quick march stepped up to a steady jog, and from there they increased the pace to a mile-eating lope that was not quite a full sprint. The horses, similarly, worked their way up to a canter, and the wagon jounced and jittered along behind them.

Tavi felt every bump in the road in his wounded leg. Each one sent a flash of pain through him that felt like some small and fiendishly determined creature taking a bite out of his leg. That went on for what felt like half a lifetime, until Foss finally seemed satisfied that the pace had steadied enough to allow him to work and slipped Tavi s wounded leg into the tub.

The watercrafting that healed the bone was quick, transforming the pain to a sudden, intense, somehow benevolent heat. When that faded a moment later, it took most of the pain with it, and Tavi collapsed wearily onto his back.

"Easy there, sir," Foss rumbled. "Here. Get some bread into you at least, before you sleep." He passed Tavi a rough, rounded loaf, and Tavi's suddenly empty belly growled. Tavi devoured the loaf, a small wedge of cheese, and guzzled down almost a full skin of weak wine before Foss nodded, and said, "That's good enough. Have you back on your feet in no time."

Tavi devoutly hoped not. He flopped back down, threw an arm across his eyes, and vanished into sleep.

He became dimly aware of alarmed shouts and blaring horns sounding a halt. The wagon slowed to a stop. Tavi opened his eyes to a sullen, overcast sky that flickered with flashes of reddish light and rumbled with threatening thunder. Tavi sat up, and asked Foss, "What's going on?"

The veteran healer stood up in the back of the wagon as it came to a halt, peering ahead. A drum rattled in a series of fast and slow beats, and Foss exhaled a curse. "Casualties."