[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
to catch in her throat as she felt the bony ridges of his ribs beneath his tattered shirt. "But he's recovering now," she
told herself firmly. "Each day, since they let me visit him, his wounds are getting better."
"Nereni are you well?" Eliizar held her out at arm's length, peering anxiously into her face.
Though she really wanted to bury her head in his shoulder and weep, Nereni forced herself to be brave for him. "I am
well, my dear." From somewhere, she found a smile. "And Aurian is also well, and growing bigger by the day!"
She knew what he would ask next, and dreaded the question. Why must he torture himself so? she wondered
"Is there any news of Yazour?" the swordsman asked softly. Nereni shook her head, not trusting her voice at the sight
of the hurt on his face. He had loved Yazour like a son. By the Reaper, it tore Nereni's heart to see him so unmanned by
grief !
"Come," she said firmly. She took his arm and led him back to his nest of furs. "Come, Eliizar, eat some stew."
As Nereni checked Eliizar's wound, a long shallow slice across the muscles of his belly, and applied salve and fresh
bandages, she thanked the Reaper for the furs. She reflected, as she pulled bowls and spoons and the covered pot of
stew from her basket, that undoubtedly these pelts had saved the lives of the two men in the damp and freezing
dungeon. The Winged Folk had brought them two or three days after the companions had been captured, when she
had complained to the Prince that the tower room was too cold for Aurian. But when the dark, luxuriant furs had
arrived, Nereni's blood had turned to ice, and she wished, on the Reaper's mercy, that she had never spoken. These
were the pelts of great cats just like Shia! Quickly she tried to keep the Mage from seeing them, but she was too late.
Aurian had flown into a rage so terrible that Nereni had expected her to go into early labor on the spot. She had flown
at Harihn with such violence that though she had been armed with nothing but her bare hands, it had taken several of
his guards to restrain her and not before she had inflicted some telling injuries on them.
At the sight of those accursed pelts, something had broken within the Mage. Since that dreadful first night of their
capture, she had remained as cool and firm as a bastion of stone, and Nereni had drawn inspiration from her courage.
But after the furs had come, the little woman had been kept awake all night long by the storm of Aurian's bitter,
heartbroken weeping.
Nereni blamed herself. She had gathered every single fur and brought them down here to Eliizar and Bohan, and the
incident had never been referred to again. The following day, Aurian had been pale, but stern of face and calm as ever.
But now, when Nereni looked at her, she saw an extra shadow of pain behind the Mage's eyes and knew that she
herself had put it there.
Once she was satisfied that Eliizar had mastered his emotions and was eating, she dished out another bowl of stew and
took it over to where the eunuch huddled miserably beneath his own pile of furs. He had not been able to come to
her those unspeakable brutes, afraid of his tremendous strength, had fettered him to a ring in the wall with long but
heavy chains. He had remained unscathed from the fighting, barring the many bruises where they had beaten him
down at last, but his wrists, as thick as Nereni's arm above the elbow, had been chafed and scored by the heavy
manacles, where he had tried desperately to pull himself free. Due to the damp and dirty conditions in the dungeon,
they were now a putrid mass of festering sores,
Bohan's plump face was gray now, and hollow-cheeked. Though he still had his enormous frame, he had lost so much
weight that his wasted flesh seemed to hang from his bones like a beggar's suit of rags. Though the eunuch's hurts
had been less serious than those of Eliizar, he looked in a far worse state. Nereni knew why she had seen this same
thing happen to prisoners within the arena. Chained and helpless, feeling that he had failed his beloved Aurian, Bohan
had simply lost the will to live.
Thanking the Reaper that the Mage had been spared from seeing her friend in this appalling state, Nereni let him have
his stew first how could she refuse him, poor man? While he ate, she comforted him with news and messages from
Aurian, which seemed to cheer him a little. Then, gritting her teeth, she bent herself to the nauseating task of cleaning
his sores.
It hurt him dreadfully, Nereni saw the pain in the rigid set of the eunuch's face and the roll of his eyes; yet he sat there
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]