Robert Adams - Revenge of the Horseclans

“But, Lord Ahlee, let me warn you. I don’t think I can remain unmoving whilst you sear these wounds. It might be better if you strapped me down, or called for servants to hold me … a good dozen men, anyway, for Sacred Sun has given me great strength.”

Ahlee smiled again. “Yes, I am sure you are a very strong man, Lord Bili. But wait.” He extended his right hand over his shoulder, palm open.

Having been busy arranging the lamps, Eeshmaheel, the apprentice, stepped back to one of the opened chests, took something from it, and laid that something in his master’s pink palm.

When the physician opened his hand, Bili saw that it contained a disk of clear, smoothly polished quartz, sus-pended from a thin, golden chain. Ahlee held the ends of the chain, allowing the disk to dangle before Bill’s eyes for a moment, then set it to spinning.

In a low, soothing, monotonous voice, he intoned, “Watch the crystal, Lord Bili. Do not take your eyes from it for a moment. Watch it, watch it, see the beauty of the light. You see? Is it not the most beautiful light you have ever seen? See the light, Lord Bili. Sink into the light…”

And as the voice murmured on and on, Bili found himself obeying. He sank into the light, became one with it, and it was good, that oneness was infinitely good. It was the Light of Sacred Sun and he was part of It and It was part of him, It streamed through him and of him. And from Them, worlds and universes received their sub-stances and were born and lived countless eons and died and returned their life gift to Them. And Bili continued to sink, faster and faster and faster, spiraling tightly, bodilessly, through the unbearably beautiful, wondrous light-which-was-one-with-darkness, and Sacred Wind roared in his ears. But it roared steadily and soothingly and reminded him of the sound of that voice-what voice?-and the roar gradually faded and the spiraling went on and still he sank, descending toward the tossing waves of a great, vast, dark-light ocean. Closer to those dark, lightcrested waves he came, closer and closer and closer.

Bill steeled his light-filled, bodiless body for the chill of the water, but he eased gently into it and it closed over him and there was no chill. He was enveloped in a moist, nourishing warmth, a warmth which soothed and comforted and lulled. And in the warm, caressing, darklight nothingness, everything vanished-pain, pleasure, worry, fear, pride, desire. And Bili could not bring himself to wish them back, for all of them together could not, he knew, replace one-ten-thousandth part of the exquisite beauty of his newfound but never forgotten nothingness…

“The young lord journeyed quickly, Master,” commented Eeshmaheel.

“Both quickly and deeply,” Ahlee nodded, handing back the disc. “As I oft have said, some journey more easily than others. It helps if they have no fear, Eeshmaheel, such as this young man.

“Eeshmaheel, there are noblemen and noble men, and a man need not be one to be the other. But this man is that rarity, both together. It is seldom that Ahlah grants long life to such, but, in His wisdom, He allows them to do much good within the short time that they remain amongst men.

“Now, Eeshmaheel, uncover the head and tell me of the wound.”

The apprentice first peeled back the lids and minutely examined the eyes. Then he removed the bandages, start-ing a fresh flow of blood. Disregarding this, he tenderly probed about the wound site, then spread the edges and sponged away enough blood to allow him a glimpse of the depths of the injury.

“Master, there is no blood on the eyes and the pupils are of equal size, nor did the patient have difficulty in focusing them before he journeyed. The swelling around the opening is hard and the bleeding had entirely ceased, ere my examination started it afresh. There is no bone visible, nor is the scalp torn, only cleanly split.”

Ahlee asked, “Were you the master, what would you do?”

Eeshmaheel’s brown eyes never left the wound while he answered. “Master, it has bled copiously, so is certainly cleaned of foreign matter and dirtinesses; nor is there sufficient depth for matter to hide. Since he is a cleanly man, the scalp need not be shaved. I would but place over it a thick cloth well soaked in brandy and tightly bandage it.”

Ahlee raised his brows. “You would not, then, suture it? Why not?”

“Master, Ahlah already has begun to heal this wound, so it were impiety to attempt improvement upon His work. But even were the injury fresh, it is very shallow and not quite so long as my thumb. I would do no more than I have said, Master.”

Ahlee nodded his approval and ordered, “Then do it, and Ahlah guide your hands.” While he watched the sure, quick actions of the apprentice, he thought that very soon now Eeshmaheel would be departing, taking ship to the north. He would bear with him Master Ahlee’s letter to the Elder Masters of Kohoz, to whom he would swear his oaths and begin to train his first apprentice. And the Elder Masters would send Ahlee another gangling lad.

When Eeshmaheel had done, he and the Master gently turned the patient facedown on the bed. Ahlee watched while his apprentice removed the bandage from the leg. Removal brought on no such crimson flood as had the lifting of the head bandage. There was but a continuation of the slow, steady ooze and trickle of pale-pinkish water.

“Eeshmaheel… ?”

The young physician-young being a relative term, for he was a good ten years older than Bili-scrutinized the wound, leaned close to sniff it, moistened a fingertip in the discharge, touched it lightly to his tonguetip, then gently kneaded the flesh about it.

“Master, it appears a deep stab, I would say at least a fingerlength. Almost did it pierce through, for the flesh opposite shows much discoloration. I would agree with the patient about the weapon involved, for a sword or dirk would have cut cleanly, but here there is some evidence of tearing. The spear was probably not poisoned though, for I can neither smell nor taste any venom. But it should have commenced to close by this time, unless those who washed him damaged it.”

“Very good, Eeshmaheel, very good, all save the last. Bring the surgical chest and the brandy and I will show you why the wound continued to weep.”

The apprentice never ceased to marvel at the master and had long since despaired of ever being his equal, in any save the simplest ways. Wordlessly, he poured brandy into a shallow pan, then immersed those instruments indicated by the master in the liquid. That done, he poured a generous quantity of the brandy over the master’s hands, then his own.

A brief but knowing glance at the pile of clothing as he entered had provided Master Ahlee the answer to the weeping wound. Within a few, short minutes, that answer was clamped betwixt the jaws of a bloodsmeared brass forceps.

“What is it, Eeshmaheel?” He opened the instrument, dropping the gory morsel into the younger man’s palm.

“Why, it is a bit of fine leather, Master. But you knew, even before you extracted it, didn’t you?”

Extending his bloody hands, that the apprentice might pour over them more brandy, Ahlee admonished, “Observe, Eeshmaheel, observe! A good physician prides himself upon missing nothing. Look at that boot atop the pile near to the door. See the place where the point tore through? There is a piece missing, yes? Now, true, it could be inside the boot, or lying in the horse litter or somewhere on the road, or even back at the battleground.

But combine the two details, Eeshmaheel, a stab which will not close and a missing bit of boot.”

When Bili opened his eyes, the physician still sat before him, but he no longer held the disk pendant.

He moved his leg slightly, then grimaced. “There is now a fierce stinging in both my wounds, Lord Ahlee. Perhaps your apprentice had best fetch your brazier and irons and get on with this unpleasant business. But give me a good burn on the first try, please. It’s not the sort of thing I want a second serving of.”