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Zedd surveyed the dead and dying as he approached. It was impossible not to walk through the blood. His heart ached at seeing the hurt. Only one screeling. What if more come?
"Commander, send for some healers. There are more here than I can tend to."
"Already done, Wizard Zorander."
Zedd nodded and began checking the living. Soldiers of the First File were spread out among the bodies, pulling the dead, many of whom were their own, out of the way, and comforting the hurt. Zedd put his fingers to the sides of foreheads to feel the injuries, to feel what a healer could care for and what required more.
He touched a young soldier laboring to breathe through a gurgle of blood. Zedd grunted at what he felt. He glanced down and saw rib bones pulled through a fist sized hole in his breastplate. Zedd's stomach wanted to erupt. Trimack knelt on the other side of the young man. The wizard's eyes flicked up an the commander, and the other nodded his understanding. The young man's remaining breaths of life numbered in the few dozen.
"Go on," the commander said in a quiet voice, "I'll stay with the lad."
Zedd moved on as Trimack gripped the young man's hand in his own and began telling a reassuring lie. Three women in long brown skirts sewn with rows of pockets came up in a rush. Their mature faces took in the scene without flinching.
With bandages and poultices pulled from the big pockets in their skirts, the three women descended on the wounded and began stitching and administering potions. Most wounds were within the skill of the women to heal, or else beyond the skill of the wizard. Zedd asked one of the three, the one who looked least likely to pay heed to protests, to go see to Chase. Zedd could see him sitting on the bench across the hall, his chin against his chest, Rachel sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around his leg.
Zedd and the other two healers moved among the people on the floor, helping where they could, passing on where they couldn't. One of the healers called to him. She was hunched over a middle-aged woman who was trying to wave her away.
"Please," she was saying in a weak voice, "help the others. I am fine. I need only to rest. Please. Help the others."
Zedd felt the wetness of his bloodsoaked robes against his knees as he knelt beside her. She pushed his hands away with one of hers. The other held her guts from spilling out of a ripping wound in her abdomen.
"Please. There are others who should be helped."
Zedd lifted an eyebrow to her ashen face. A fine gold chain through her hair held a blue stone against her forehead. The blue stone matched her eyes so, that it almost made her look to have three eyes. The wizard thought he recognized the stone, and wondered if it could be true, or only a bauble bought on a whim. He had not seen one wearing the Stone as a calling in a very long time. Surely one this young couldn't know what it proclaimed.
"I am wizard Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander. And who are you, child, to give me orders?"
Her face paled even more. "Forgive me wizard..."
She calmed as Zedd touched his fingers to her forehead. The pain caught his breath so sharply he jerked his fingers away. He had to struggle to keep the tears of hurt from showing.
He knew without a doubt now: she wore the Stone in calling. The Stone, to match the color of her eyes, and worn over the forehead, as if the mind's eye, was a talisman to proclaim her inner vision.
A hand snatched at the back of his robes, tugging.
"Wizard!" came a sour voice from behind. "You will tend to me first!" Zedd turned to a face that matched the voice, and maybe outdid it a little. "I am Lady Ordith Condatith de Dackidvich, House of Burgalass. This wench is nothing but my body servant. Had she been as quick as she should have been, I wouldn't be suffering so! I could have been killed, as slow as she was! You will tend to me first! I could expire at any moment!"
Zedd could tell without touching her that her injuries were minor. "Forgive me, My Lady." He made a show of putting his fingers to her head. As he thought: a hard bruise to her ribs, a few lesser to her legs, and a small gash on her arm, requiring at most a stitch or two.
"Well?" She clutched at the silver ruffles at her neck. "Wizards," she muttered. "Next to worthless if you want to know the truth of it. And these guards! I think they were asleep at their posts! Lord Rahl shall hear of this! Well? What of my injuries?"
"My Lady, I'm not sure there is anything I can do for you."
"What!" She snatched the neck of his robe and gave it a snug yank. "You had better see that there is, or I will see that Lord Rahl has your head on a pike! See what good your lazy magic does you then!"
"Of course, My Lady. I will endeavor to do my best."
He ripped the small gash in the dark maroon satin fabric of the sleeve, making it a huge, hanging flag, then put a hand back on the shoulder of the woman with the blue stone. She moaned as he blocked some of her pain and gave her strength. Her ragged breathing evened. He kept his hand on her, trickling in a little magic of reassurance and comfort.
Lady Ordith shrieked. "My dress! You've ruined it!"
"Sorry, My Lady, but we can't risk the wound festering. I would rather lose the dress than the arm. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Well, yes I guess..."
"Ten or fifteen stitches should do it," he said to the sturdily built healer bent over between the two women on the floor. Her hard, blue-gray eyes glanced to the small wound and then back to the wizard.
"I am sure you would know best, Wizard Zorander," she said in an even voice, betraying only in her gaze to him that she understood his true intent.
"What! You are going to let this ox of a midwife do your work for you?"
"My Lady, I am an old man. I have never had any talent for sewing, and my hands shake something awful. I am afraid I would do more damage than I would repair, but if you insist, I will try my best..."
"No," she sniffed. "Let the ox do it."
"Very well." He looked up to the healer. No emotion touched her features, but splotches of red colored her cheeks. "I fear there is only one hope for her other injuries, considering the pain she is in. Do you have any wattle root in those big pockets of yours?"
She gave a little frown of puzzlement. "Yes, but..."
"Good," he cut her off. "I think two cubes should be sufficient."
Her eyebrow lifted. "Two?"
"Don't you try to be skimpy with me!" Lady Ordith screeched. "If there isn't enough to go around, then someone of lesser importance will just have to go short! You give me the full dose!"
"Very well." Zedd glanced up at the healer. "Administer her the full dose. Three cubes. Shredded, not whole."
The healers eyes opened a little wider, and she incredulously mouthed the word "shredded?". Zedd squinted and nodded his insistence. The corners of her mouth curled up in a tightly controlled smile.
Wattle root would take away the pain of the minor injuries, but it needed only be swallowed whole. One small cube was all that was needed. Shredded, and that much of it, would set Lady Ordith's plumbing afire. The good Lady was going to be spending the better part of the next week in her privy.
"What is your name, my dear?" he asked the healer.
"Kelley Hallick."
Zedd gave a tired sigh. "Kelley, are there any others that are beyond your considerable talents?"
"No, Sir. Middea and Annalee are finishing with the last of them."
"Then will you please take Lady Ordith somewhere where she will not... where she will be more comfortable while you tend to her."
Kelley glanced down at the woman Zedd had a comforting hand to, to the rip across her abdomen, and back up to his eyes. "Of course, Wizard Zorander. You look to be very tired. If you would come to me later, I will fix you a stenadine tea." The small smile touched the corners of her mouth again.
Zedd couldn't keep a grin from his own face. Besides restoring alertness, stenadine tea was also used to give lovers stamina. By the glint in her eye, he judged her to be a fine brewer of stenadine tea.
He gave Kelley a wink. "Perhap
s I will." Any other time he might have given it serious consideration, Kelley was a handsome woman, but right now, that was just about the furthest thing from his mind.
"Lady Ordith, what is your body servant's name?"
"Jebra Bevinvier. And a worthless girl she is, too. Lazy and impudent."
"Well, you will not be burdened with her inadequate service any longer. She is going to need a long time to recover, and you are shortly going to be leaving the Palace."