Flamecaster (Shattered Realms #1)(77)

The healer leaned down so they were nearly nose to nose. The blue-green eyes were framed with long lashes. “Do you want to lie back down?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jenna gasped. “Just—just give me a minute.”

“Then, here. Head between your knees.” Gently, he pushed her head down toward the floor. “Breathe.” One hand remained between her shoulder blades. She was acutely conscious of the weight of it, the warmth of it, and the pressure of his knees braced against hers.

Eventually, her head cleared enough that she could nod for him to go on.

“Just let me know if you need a break. Once I get this uncovered, you can lie back if you want to.”

“Karn!” the healer barked, making her jump. She hadn’t realized he’d been speaking so softly. “Jenna’s going to need something clean to change into.”

“Such as?”

“Bring a loose-fitting man’s shirt,” the healer said. “Smallclothes. And new bed linens.”

It amused Jenna to think of Karn hunting for small-clothes.

The lieutenant went to the door, conversed with the blackbirds outside, and returned to his seat.

“You’re still shivering,” Adam said. “That’s why dungeons are not a good place to treat patients,” he said loudly, again for Karn’s benefit. “Here. Wrap up in this.” He draped the scratchy blanket around her shoulders and she snuggled into it gratefully.

“Now,” he said. “Let’s have a look.” Gently he eased her bedclothes down across her hips and spread a clean sheet over top. Then, quickly, he unwound the bandage that held the dressing in place, pitching it onto the floor. The dressing was stuck to the wound, but he pulled it free so quickly that Jenna had no time to tense up. Maybe it would have been fine anyway—the area around the wound was totally numb, cold, and lifeless.

Next came the wound packing, nasty and foul-smelling, followed by a gout of drainage that the healer sopped up with more rags. That, she felt. That hurt like a stubbed toe. She tried not to show it, but the tears came anyway. He took both her hands now and released his witchery into her. Just as when Karn had tried to interrogate her at the Lady of Grace, it did nothing.

Adam noticed. He leaned close, again speaking softly, so that Karn couldn’t hear. “Are you blocking me, Jenna? If so, please don’t. I promise, I’m only trying to help you with the pain.”

“I’m not a mage. I’m not doing anything. It just doesn’t work on me.”

“It doesn’t really feel like you’re blocking me,” he said slowly, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. “More like . . . I’m pouring water through a sieve.” He rummaged in his carry bag, found a cloth sack, and shook a fuzzy, gray-green leaf onto his palm. “Hold this under your tongue,” he said. “See if it helps.”

The leaf was faintly bitter to the taste, but the healer was right—it did help. She felt her body relaxing, floating. The pain was still there, but it was like it belonged to somebody else. That way, it was at least tolerable.

Meanwhile, he gathered up the sheet full of nasty rags and set them aside.

“That was the worst part,” he said. “You can lie back now.” He washed his hands and dried them on a clean rag, helped her settle into place in bed, and covered her top half with the blanket. He dipped a cloth into the water, wrung it out, and worked some soap into it. Then rolled her bedclothes back so he could get at the wound again.

His touch was gentle, his movements sure. Though he wasn’t any older than she was, Jenna could tell that he’d done this many times before. The way he went about it made an awkward situation bearable.

He washed the wound out with water, several times, then gently probed it with his fingers. It was strangely unsettling to feel the pressure of his fingers under numb skin. He slid a hand under his tunic to grip his jinxpiece and muttered charms. Nothing seemed to happen.

Finally, shaking his head, he sat back. He used his forearm to swipe sweat from his face, since his hands were once again covered in blood. “Here’s the news,” he said. “Healing magic doesn’t seem to work on you, meaning I can’t repair the damage through wizardry. Unfortunately, you are not resistant to the magic in the blade. It will kill you, if left alone. I’m guessing it won’t be pleasant.”

Jenna leaned closer. “You could give me a gentle death.”

“I could,” he said. “But if I treat you, and then you die, then I’ll be in for an ungentle death. I would need more information in order to decide whether to make that trade.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Karn demanded.

“She’s telling me about working in the coal mines,” the healer called back. “How it’s not for everybody, but if you survive, you get to keep on doing it.”

He’s a smart-ass, Jenna thought. I like that in a person.

Karn stood, picked up his stool, and carried it over to the head of Jenna’s bed. Then sat again, close enough to listen in.

Adam washed his hands again. Jenna had never seen anyone so keen on hand washing.

“All right, Jenna,” he said with a grim smile. “I’ve got one more thing to try. Let’s both hope this works.” Taking a deep breath as if bracing for an ordeal, he placed his palm over the wound. She felt the tingle of magic against her skin, then a pulling sensation, as if he were drawing something out of the wound. It felt peculiar, like he was trying to yank her spine out through her navel.