The Salve of Freedom

Chapter V.

Milka's eyes opened wide with surprise. "You can speak my language?"

He nodded in reply. The movement was awkward, with him still lying down. He seemed to realise it and slowly got up to a sitting position. She watched him, deliberately not rushing to help him.

The first feeling she got was a sense of betrayal. The moment her mind realised the absurdity of the feeling, it rejected it and immersed itself in the sea of confusion.

"Why would..." Why would he lie? It was not genuinely lying. She closed her mouth, realising she could not find the right words to finish her sentence. 

"Why would I pretend I don't?" Beala finished her thoughts. It was not all she wanted to express, but she nodded at him. It was, she supposed, the most crucial question.

"I was not sure if I could trust you. My brother always says it is better to be safe than sorry, and if he were in my situation – not that he would ever get himself to this situation – he would stay quiet about his language skills till the end. But I guess I trust you." He shrugged, forgetting his injury. A hiss of pain quickly followed his statement. 

It made her jump into the healer's action. In a second, she was standing next to him, checking if he did not open his wound again.

"You have to be careful," she reminded him. "It is a serious injury. You are lucky I have found you when the wound was not yet infected."

"Where did you find me?"

"In the forest," she answered, looking up from his wound. "I cleaned your wound and brought you here."

He nodded. "Where is here?"

"This is our settlement," she explained. "You are in the healer's house."

"What settlement?"

"Our settlement."

"What is the name of it?"

She frowned, not understanding the question. "There is no name. We do not name our settlements."

"You don't..." he stopped himself and shook his head. "Ok, well then, I will call this Milka's settlement since you are Milka and you are from here."

She stared at him awhile, wondering why he needed to name their village. It was not required. Everybody knew where they lived. For outsiders, it was enough to describe their healers' program or the forest and rivers around.

"We do not name our settlements," she repeated slowly in an effort to make him understand.

"Fine," he used the same slow tone. "I don't think I need to know the name of this village. It is just I am used to knowing where I am, but... I guess prisoners don't really need to know much."

"What?"

"You are my guard, right? I promise I will try to escape just a couple of times."

Milka blinked and forced herself to breathe deeply. Then she started explaining from the beginning. She spoke slowly because she was sure there had to be a language barrier between them.

"I am Milka. I am a healer. I was in the forest gathering supplies for my healing tinctures. I found you. The apprentices helped me to bring you here. I helped with your injury. I cleaned the wound and gave you something to fight the fever. Do you understand?"

He nodded and opened his mouth to reply. She did not let him talk. She thought it would just make her more confused.

"I am no guard. We do not have guards in our settlement. We are healers' settlement. We provide medical advice for other settlements. We do not know anything about guarding or prisoners. Do you understand?"