Heir of Iron

Chapter 7

The feeble light of dawn dribbled through the window of the chamber and lit Taleg's pallid form. Mandhi stood at the window and glanced from the murky horizon to her husband and back. A silent sentry guarded her door. None of the others had stirred yet. She herself hadn't slept, though some part of her mind reminded her that she needed it. Her own need, however, was less than Taleg's, and this thought alone kept her from sleep.

The crown of the sun appeared red between the palms and acacias along the distant horizon. She heard sheep bleating and the curses of an early-rising peasant. It was time to leave.

She wet a rag in the bowl of water next to Taleg, and lifted the bandage covering the wound. He hadn't woken all night, but his breathing was steady and his heart thundered ceaselessly in his chest like it always did. When she peeled away the poultice her breath stopped. "Star-damned," she said.

Every time she lifted the bandage, the wound continued to bleed through the coarse stitches that Bhargasa had been able to apply. The surrounding flesh swelled in a sickly white rise, turning red and virulent as it retreated from the crater of the puncture. Already the stench of putrescence began to fill the room. She touched the edge of the wound with the rag. Taleg flinched and muttered. His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment the glassy whites of his eyes showed beneath the lids. Then his hand fell back to the ground.

"The stars upon him," Mandhi said. She wiped away what she could with the wet rag and reapplied the poultice.

Taleg's lips moved. With a groan like stone scraping over stone, he whispered, "Mandhi."

"Taleg! You're awake."

"Where is Navran?"

"Gone," Mandhi said. "Don't worry about him."

"We couldn't save him?"

"I don't care about saving him," she said. "I care about saving you. We're going to Davrakhanda."

"I can't go to Davrakhanda. I don't think I can walk that far."

"We will lay you in a drag-cradle and carry you."

He shook his head. "You'll never be able to carry me by yourself."

"I'm not by myself. Sadja-dar's men are here."

"Who?"

"Never mind. Sleep, Taleg."

He turned his head and rested it against the cushion. For a moment his lips moved silently. Mandhi put her finger against them and he stilled.

There was movement in the hallway. One of Sadja's soldiers. She said with a loud whisper, "Come here! Quickly."

A young man stuck his head through the curtain. "What is it, lady Mandhi?"

"Tell your commander we have to leave now. Then come help me bring Taleg out."

Bhargasa appeared a moment later in the doorway. "I have told the men to prepare the drag-cradle. What happened?"

Mandhi pointed at the blackening wound. "The bleeding hasn't stopped, and it's starting to rot. Can this surgeon in Davrakhanda heal a rotting wound that's festered for four days?"

Bhargasa closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I don't know. But the kind of care you'll get between here and there... you might find herb-women, and dhorsha who could offer rams' blood."

"No dhorsha," Mandhi said. "We are Uluriya. And for the herb-women, would they help?"

"For this?" He glanced at Taleg's wound and shook his head. "I think he has better chances in Davrakhanda."