Shadowkill

1

Matja Allina bent over the sleeping chal, touched his face. “His fever’s down. What’s the stump look like?”

The Herbmistress consulted her list. “It was checked two hours ago, cool, no infection. Um. Appetite good, wanted solid food, turned cranky when he saw the broth, but drank it down, ate his biscuits. We can send him home by the end of the week.”

“Good.” Matja Allina moved to the next cot and looked down at the form swathed in bandages. “Burns?”

“Yes. He’s still alive, but we don’t have much hope unless we can get him to the ottodoc in the Center at Nirtajai. Is there any chance of that?”

“I’ll ask the Arring when he calls.” She sighed, shook her head. “The Artwa isn’t likely to spend fuel on a chal. Do what you can. Brushie healwomen have some herbal pastes they use on burns, summer Brush being what it is and summer storms. I’ll send to see if they have something we can use.” She bent over the motionless form, curved her palm over the bandaged face, not quite touching the cloth. “Amurra bless and give you peace.” She moved on.