Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(125)

"I managed to slow her fall," Lady Aquitaine said. "But she's been badly bruised and may have cracked some bones."

The words sounded pleasant to Amara, though she could not remember what they meant. She felt Bernard's hand on her forehead and smiled. " M all right, my lord," she murmured.

"Here, Count," Lady Aquitaine said. "Let me help you."

They fussed over her, and it felt nice.

Fear. Pain. Terror. Too much of it for one day.

Amara just wanted to rest, to sleep. Surely things would be better after she rested.

"No broken bones," Lady Aquitaine said.

"What happened up there?" Bernard asked, his voice a low growl.

Lady Aquitaine lifted her eyes to the red skies above.

Droplets of blood still fell, tiny beads of red that had once been a human being.

She frowned and murmured, perplexed, "I have no idea."

The next morning, Isana woke when Lady Veradis opened the door. The pale young healer's dark-circled eyes were even more worn than the day before, but she wore the colors of her fathers house in a simple gown. The young woman smiled at Isana and said, "Good morrow, Steadholder."

"Lady," Isana said, with a nod. She looked around the room. "Where is Fade?"

Lady Veradis entered the room, bearing a tray covered with a cloth napkin. "Being bathed and fed. I'll have him brought in once you are ready."

"How is he?"

"Somewhat disoriented with fever. Weary. Otherwise lucid." She nodded at the food. "Eat and ready yourself. I will return presently."

Isana pushed worry from her mind, at least long enough to wash herself and partake of the sausages, fresh bread, and cheeses Veradis had brought. Once some of the food had touched her tongue, Isana found herself famished, and ate with abandon. The food would be necessary to keep her strength up during the healing, and she should take as much as she could.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Veradis asked, "Steadholder? May we enter?"

"Of course."

Veradis came in. Three guards bore a healer's tub readied with water. The tub wasn't as large as the one from the day before, and it bore spots of rust and wear that marked it as a well-worn member of its breed. It had probably been stored in a closet somewhere, forgotten until the sudden attack on the city demanded the use of every tub that could be found. The guards set it down on the floor, then one of them drew a low chair over to sit beside it.

A moment later, Giraldi came in, supporting Fade with one shoulder despite his limp and his cane. Fade wore only a long, white robe, his face was flushed with fever, his eyes glazed, and his wounded hand had swollen up into a grotesque mockery of itself.

Giraldi grimly helped the scarred man over to the tub and had to help Fade remove the robe. Fade's lean, wire-muscled body showed dozens of old scars Isana had never seen before, especially across his back, where the marks of the whipping that had accompanied his branding stood out from his skin, as thick as Isana's littlest finger.

Fade settled weakly into the tub, and when he laid his head back against the wooden rest, he seemed to fall asleep instantly.

"Are you prepared?" Veradis asked quietly.

Isana rose and nodded, without speaking.

Veradis gestured to the chair. "Sit, then. Take his hand."

Isana did so. The low chair put her head on a level with Fade's, and she watched the scarred slave's features as she reached down to take up his healthy hand and grip it between hers.

"It isn't a terribly complicated crafting," Veradis said. "The infection has a natural tendency to gather at the site of the wound. So concentrated, his body cannot drive it out. You must dilute the infection, spreading it more thinly throughout his body, where he will have a chance to fight it off."