Her multitude of scratches throbbed with her labored heartbeat.
Ōbhin staggered by her, his breathing heavy. If the arrow hadn’t caught his rib, it would have punctured his lung. He would have died. She could never have hauled him to safety, and he never would have been able to get far with a collapsed lung.
He’d drown in his blood until the corpses got him. Then he’d be one.
A nauseating horror squirmed through her. “How are you doing?”
“I’ll live,” he grunted. “Tell me we are close.”
“We are . . .” She frowned. “Look! We’re a block away. That’s the sweetmeats dealer that Deffona and I sometimes visit when she can sneak away. And there is the barber. He’s a drunk. Never have him sew you up. Dualayn swore for an hour at the sight of the man’s work.”
“Dualayn can swear?”
“When he sees shoddy stitching.” She squirmed. “Given what happened to his wife, can you blame him?”
“No.”
They soon reached the end of the block. The southeastern corner of the hospital blossomed out of the mist across the street. They were near the loading yard entrance. The gate stood open, guarded by Fingers and Cerdyn. Avena sighed in relief.
She was actually glad to see the hulking guard with his glowering features. “Fingers!”
“Elohm’s Colours, lass, what happened to you?” Fingers asked with concern, even fatherly horror. He broke from his post. His chainmail jangled as he rushed through the fog. “You look like you fell in a pen of chickens during feeding time.”
“Something like that,” she said. “A bird attacked me.”
“Bird?”
“A hawk,” lied Ōbhin, staggering up.
Fingers grabbed Ōbhin’s sword arm and supported the swaying Qothian. “Black stains, you’re bleeding. What happened?”
“Ran into an old friend,” muttered Ōbhin. “He put an arrow in my back.”
“It’s those bandits who attacked us,” Avena added. “They followed us back to Kash. They’re not happy with us.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Fingers said. “Ōbhin probably made them run for hours and hours. Make any man murderous.”
“You should have heard them wheeze,” Ōbhin said, chuckling.
“How can you be laughing?” Avena demanded. “We almost died tonight.”
“Good thing they didn’t follow your training,” Fingers said as they passed through the gate, Cerdyn nodding, “else you’d actually have died.”
Ōbhin laughed louder then cut off in a curse in his language.
Avena bit her lip.
“Ah, there you are, child,” Dualayn called. The fog didn’t seem as thick in the yard. He rushed from the hospital, trailed by Deffona and the eldest sister. “You have had me affright with worry. Why didn’t you tell anyone where you and Ōbhin were . . . ?” His words trailed off. “You let her get injured!”
“Did my best to prevent it,” grunted Ōbhin. “Bird attacked her.”
“Don’t worry about me! Ōbhin took an arrow,” Avena said. “His armor blunted it, but it broke a rib and lodged there. He’s bleeding.”
“Get his armor off,” said Dualayn. “I’ll do what I can, but I used up my healers inside. I doubt they’ve recharged much.”
Avena hovered as Fingers and Smiles stripped Ōbhin out of his chainmail then his leather jerkin. He had a muscular chest, surprisingly hairless, just a slight down beneath his collarbone. His skin had that same rich red-brown hue as his face. He winced, leaning forward, his back slick with gleaming blood. It soaked down to his pants.
“This will ease the pain,” said Dualayn. “Stabilize that rib a bit. I wouldn’t count on it healing fully tonight, but we’ll get the bleeding stopped.”
“Avena?” Deffona said, her voice cautious. “Your dress . . .”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said.
Deffona bit her lip. “What happened? Why did you and Ōbhin leave? I mean, I thought . . .”
“Not that,” Avena huffed. “I followed him because I didn’t trust him. I was wrong. He saved my life tonight.”
Deffona’s eyes brightened. “How? Did he fight?”
“He stood up to death,” Avena said, glancing at Ōbhin as he sat on the carriage runner, orange light bathing across his back as Dualayn used a healer. It flickered out and died a heartbeat later, the jewelchine exhausted. “Literally.”
She remembered the look of him before the corpses, purchasing her precious heartbeats to flee before he retreated. She had been terrified when the jackal had tackled him. She hadn’t even cared about the consequences when she’d thrown herself back into danger.
They were good consequences, she thought.
Her eyes met with Ōbhin’s. He held them, his face blank. Then he winced as Dualayn prodded his back. They exchanged words while Avena tore her gaze away. She glanced at her concerned friend, ignoring her own throbbing wounds.
“Don’t start thinking those thoughts,” Avena muttered at the look on Deffona’s face. “He would have done that for anyone.”
Deffona just grinned and nodded. “I am so relieved you’re safe. This night . . . It feels wrong, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” she said.
A bright flash of scarlet lit up the fog to the northeast. Deffona’s eyes furrowed. She cocked her head. “What a queer sight. A fire?”
“Jewelchine,” said Avena as her insides squirmed. It came from the direction of the Gray Pillar. What else can Dje’awsa do?
“My child, we’re leaving,” Dualayn said. “I’ll tend to your scratches in the carriage.”
Deffona went to embrace Avena then froze. The daughter’s face twisted. “I don’t want to hurt you but . . .” She leaned in and kissed Avena’s cheek. “Be safe.”
“You, too.” Avena swallowed. “Have the eldest bar your door tonight.”
“It’s a hospital!”
“Bar it.” Avena’s heart tightened. “Something that shouldn’t be is
