The door opened, revealing a tall man with a thin frame and thinner hair. He had a put-upon expression and a wooden board in his hand.
“Lovely to see you again, Doctor. To what do I owe the privilege?” Shanti asked in a strained voice, trying to ignore the throb of her ribs.
“Yes, it seems your wit is intact. Goodie.” The doctor closed the door behind him, his face getting grimmer.
“How did I get here?”
The doctor pulled a chair from the corner and placed it at the middle of her bed. He sat slowly, crossed his ankle over his knee, and leaned back, thin slab of wood resting on his lap. “You were brought.”
“Ah, this is a game, is it not? Twenty questions? Yes, Leilius loves this game. How is he, by the way? How are they all?”
The doctor surveyed her, his face impassive. “Alive. For now.”
Shanti tried to sit up. Pain stabbed her midsection—definitely cracked ribs—but she pushed through it. The sheet dropped to her mid-section and she realized she was in one of those bloody nightgowns the doctor loved so much.
“What do you mean for now?”
“Ah, you see? It is rather irritating when someone doesn’t adequately answer another’s questions, is it not?”
Shanti glared at him. She knew better than to open her Gift, though. After what she’d done, it would definitely hurt. She winced just thinking of it.
“Yes, painful, isn’t it? Being wounded often has that effect. But what do I know; I’m just a doctor. And yes, we do have a school for that here.”
“Are you going to tell me, or are you going to force me to beat it out of you?”
The doctor gave a loud sigh and looked at his small, rectangular board. “Cadet Leilius is in the mud tub, sitting up to his neck and tied that way, because he kicked Commander Sanders in the shin when he wasn’t allowed in here to make sure you were okay. Gracas is right next to him because he tried to punch Commander Daniels for the same reason. He missed, of course. He now has a black eye. Xavier is carrying rocks from one side of the training yard to the other because he was able to successfully punch Sterling, who had barred his way. Let’s see.” The doctor consulted his board again. “Ah yes, young Marc suffered a stab wound to his leg, but he is mending nicely. Rachie got a rather serious wound down his chest. I have stitched him up, and he will heal in time. He will forever have a scar, but he informed me that women like men with scars, and was excited to test the theory just as soon as he is released.”
Shanti took a minute to thank her Elders their care. She’d grown fond of those boys—she would hate to hear any harm had come to them. “Then what did you mean ‘for now?’”
“The Captain hasn’t gotten around to speaking with them about refusing his orders and following yours.”
“Oh. Yeah, that probably pissed him in.”
“I see you are working on your slang. How lovely. You aren’t quite there yet, however.”
“Lucius?” Shanti continued.
“Will have a great many women, if young Rachie is correct. He is alive, though. Sanders just barely got him out. He didn’t want to leave you. Neither of them did. For some reason.”
“Sanders pulled me out?”
The doctor gave her a flat, assessing stare for a moment. “Sanders couldn’t reach you. He did try, but....” The doctor shrugged with one shoulder.
“Are you trying to teach me humility, doctor? Because the last person who tried was unconscious for twenty-four hours.”
“I don’t doubt that. The difference between me and that unfortunate fellow is that I know a lost cause when I see one.”
Shanti stared at him. She would get up and shake it out of him if she had to. Although, she really hoped she didn’t have to. It hurt just to sit up.
The doctor must have read her mind because a ghost of a smile flickered at his lips. Finally he answered. “The Captain pulled you out. He wasn’t too happy you weren’t in the secure hold.”
Shanti couldn’t help blurting, “The Captain did? Why?”
“That is a great question.”
“How did he get to me?”
“By doing what he does—charging in, taking what he wants, and charging back out leaving a trail of bodies behind him.”
So Cayan had gone after her. But why? Also, what an idiot! He was in charge of a whole city. Risking his life for a foreigner just to get the last laugh was just plain stupidity. And if she didn’t hurt so badly, she would go tell him.
The doctor still gazed at her with his unimpressed countenance. Shanti suspected he loved being put out just for something to make a show of. He said, “He is mending, too, in case you’re wondering. I noticed that you didn’t ask.”
No, she hadn’t. She didn’t want to hear how badly she owed him for her life. For giving her people another chance. It was a large pill to swallow.
The doctor continued in his dry voice. “He had cuts all up and down his left and right side. Gashes, fairly deep, in his back. Two bruised bones, but nothing was broken. Here’s a question for you: some of the recovered bodies, those that died at your feet and another, oh, sixty paces out or so, didn’t have a mark on them. They died in agony, that was clear, and most were clawing at their face, eyes or head—one had bloodied his ears—but none had an actual wound. Would you know anything about that?”
Uh oh. “You would know the bodies I killed—they had sword marks, or knives sticking out of them.”
“Yes. Excellent knife throwing. If what I hear is true, you made extremely hard shots and never missed. Impressive. I’ve always said, however, that women tend to have better aim, where men tend to throw harder. I enjoy being right. Regardless, that doesn’t answer my question.”
Shanti struggled for breath around her tight throat. She really wanted to lie back down—her ribs were killing her. “What were you doing wandering among dead bodies? Just what kind of a doctor are you? Should I be worried that you were planning to dress me, put makeup on me, and close me in a box?”
“Your evasive conversational techniques need work. However, I will answer, since it is still on track with my questioning. I was asked to survey a few bodies before they were incinerated. Some did not look like the Mugdock, and a great many had no obvious signs of death. Add that to a pair of glowing violet eyes and a fainting woman, and you have need of a doctor’s opinion.”
“And what is your expert diagnosis based on this folklore?”
“Well, that you are impossible to work with and the Captain will have to sort you out because I cannot.”
“Defeatist.” Shanti smirked.
“Yes, it would seem. Now, lie back, because I can see that you are suffering merely to prove a point—point proven, decidedly—and get some rest. You will need it when the Captain gets around to visiting. He is not as…patient as I.”
Shanti lay back with a grimace. It would hurt less to be dead.
As the doctor moved to leave, she thought back to what he said. Cayan would be bursting through in an awful temper any time, she had no doubt. The question was, why was she so apprehensive?
Chapter XXI
“SANDERS, WITH ME.”
SANDERS INTERNALLY cringed. The hard gravel in that voice slid along his bones and pounded at his nerves. The Captain had not been in a great mood since he returned bloody and wild from the middle of a horde of Mugdock with a limp woman in his arms. Since then everyone had been afraid to be in his sights, especially his commanders.
It was three days after the battle. Daniels and Sterling were leaning against the wall in front of the pyre, watching as the last of the smoldering bodies were transferred into a huge pit.
“Yes, my liege,” Sanders said meekly, stepping in behind the long stride.
They walked back into the city where every person they met gave some signal of thanks to the Captain. Enlisted men gave a salute. Civilian men gave a nod so deep it was almost a bow. The civilian women looked at him with love-sick eyes.
The Captain was heading toward the hospital. Oh no.
<
br /> Panic started to crawl up Sanders’ spine. He looked in earnest for an escape, for a reason he had to be somewhere else. He almost wished they were being attacked again. It was the last meeting in the world he wanted to attend. Anyone wanted to attend.
They walked in through the door. More nods. More smiles and sparkling eyes. More salutes. A few uncontrollable grunts that Sanders let slip. If these idle bodies loitering in the halls could read his mind, they would realize those low guttural noises he couldn’t help were actually calls for aid. Why was no one helping him? Did they not see where he was headed? And with whom?
Instead of turning right at the crossroads, though, they went straight ahead. Down a large white corridor. They were going to the badly injured ward.
Sanders gave a huge sigh of relief.
The Captain stopped in front of a closed door and paused. After a deep breath Sanders probably wasn’t supposed to notice, he knocked quietly before stepping inside. He motioned Sanders in after him.
Sanders stepped into the sterilized space and immediately winced. It was a well-known fact that fighting men of Sanders’ caliber did not enjoy that overly clean lemon smell of the hospital ward. If you smelled it, you were either attending the sick or dying, or one of them. All bad things.
Lucius was in his bed lying flat on his back, no color in his face. He had a bandage around his head, white squares of gauze around his neck, and a mending broken nose. Sanders was sure there were more bandages beneath the sheet.
“Captain, Commander Sanders,” Lucius said by way of greeting. His voice was shaky and weak. Being that the man had been near death when he was brought in, the fact that he was conscious and talking was a great stride.
“Lieutenant.” Sanders gave a stiff nod. “Good to see you are on the mend.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Captain took a chair from the corner and pulled it close to Lucius’ head. “I thank you for your valor, Lieutenant. I would’ve hated to lose you.”
Lucius and the Captain had grown up together. It was said that the Captain trusted no one in the world as much as he trusted this childhood friend. And that was a nice sentiment, but why did Sanders need to sit in on this? He didn’t want to see any of the Captain’s vulnerability. That wasn’t what men did. That should be saved for the wives.
“However, I was under the impression you were given strict orders to take the foreign woman to the hold?” the Captain went on.
Oh. That’s why. Somehow this, too, was Sanders’ fault. Great.
“I was, sir.” Lucius didn’t lower his eyes. “She did not want to go.”
“Often women do not want to do what is in their best interest. It is why we have to subtly help them see reason.”
“My approach was subtle, at first, sir. Then, when she punched me, it was less so. Finally I had no choice but to follow her lead.”
The Captain paused before saying, “I am to understand you followed her lead willingly, Lieutenant. Directly to the front line. In front of a well-put-together group of trained, battle-hardened men.”
“Yes, sir. They were also inclined to follow her lead. She has a way about her, sir.”
The Captain stared at Lucius for a tense moment. The other man tried to hold the gaze, but inevitably, as they all did, dropped his gaze to the floor.
“She would have been captured.” The Captain had a hard edge to his voice. Sanders took a step toward the door.
“Yes, sir,” Lucius said weakly.
“She’s a woman. I’m sure you can imagine what would’ve happened had she been captured?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is that a fate you would want for your mother, Lieutenant? Or your sister?”
“No, sir. But in my defense, I wouldn’t have been able to stop her, sir. I tried to fight beside her and keep her safe. It was all I could do.”
After another minute of hard staring, the Captain lowered his head. Then stood. “She is a hard case. Sanders has yet to maintain control over her. Being that he is of higher rank, I can hardly expect you to fare any better. I had hoped, but I see that was in vain.”
“I would like to stay on her detail, sir,” Lucius stated with a high chin.
“You are compromised, Lieutenant.” The Captain spoke simply.
“She’ll trust me now, sir. She doesn’t want followers, she wants men-at-arms beside her.”
The Captain stopped as he headed for the door, his back to his old friend. Lucius took that as a cue to keep going. “She entertains when someone raises an objection to her schemes. She’ll hear my complaints and advice. She’ll defer to me if I can convince her.”
The room got thick and sluggish. Sanders tried to push himself against the wall, not wanting any part of this conversation. Any movement might draw notice. He wanted Lucius to get the post so he wouldn’t have to take it.
Finally the bands that made breathing laborious released and the Captain nodded. “Very well. When you are better, we’ll see how it goes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Out in the hallway the Captain said in conversational tones, “Lucius just did you a favor.”
“I caught that, sir. He’s a better man for it.”
“Yes, he’s always had a heavy dose of courage.”
Sanders cleared his throat. “I saw her fight, sir. He wouldn’t have been able to force her to the hold. Not with his life.”
“I know that. I still wanted him to try. Battle is no place for a woman. Not when she will become a prize.”
“I don’t think she was planning to stay alive long enough to be a prize.”
“For that reason, also.”
They turned a corner and started down the recovery corridor, stopping in front of a wooden door. The Captain knocked twice then immediately stepped back when the door opened. The doctor stepped out, realized who it was, and closed the door behind him.
“You’ve picked a fine time to call on her,” the doctor drawled. “She is out of bed and staggering around the room. Apparently that’s her way of saying she’s miraculously healed after only three days.”
“And how is she faring?” the Captain asked, not put off by the dry delivery.
“Oh, how wonderful. Someone who actually wants her real diagnosis. Two ribs are broken. She is unconcerned about those. Three toes are broken. She concedes that the Mugdock are heavy. There are muscle pulls and strains all over her body. She also helped me do my job by noting her gift is strained, whatever that means.
“Oh, and she has learned a new swear word. It starts with “c”, is predominately used on women in an extremely derogatory way. She thinks it is hilarious. Watch yourself.”
The doctor walked away with a rigid back. Sanders had the feeling the c-word was no longer solely used on women. He couldn’t help but smile. Until he saw the murder in the Captain’s eyes. It sufficiently ruined his mood again.
As the doctor had said, Shanti was standing. Laboriously, but standing. She was leaning against the wall looking out the window, her gaze on the distant trees. Her body looked like an abstract painting, splotched with a myriad of colors, mainly blue, yellow, purple, and red. Between her injuries, her skin was the same translucent white he’d noticed when she was near death in the dead forest. Unlike then, he noticed she had a much better form than when she’d been carried in a few short weeks ago. Her muscle was sinewy and graceful. She was taking on the shape of a woman again, hips and breasts and—
Sanders turned away, which he probably should have done immediately after realizing the piece of fabric on the floor next to the door, as if thrown at a retreating figure, was her nightgown. He had seen many a naked man, being that there was not much privacy in the field, but he’d only seen naked women when he was about to—
Shanti turned at the uncomfortable groan.
“Clothes, please,” the Captain said easily, leaning against the far wall. If he was troubled by the perfect form of the naked woman—
Sanders groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut. He wa
s not strong enough for this.
Shanti gave the Captain an irritated stare. “The fabric gets in the way of sleeping.”
“You aren’t sleeping. Put it on.”
“No.”
“You’re causing an awkward situation between Sanders and Junice at present. It’s not very nice.”
Shanti glanced at Sanders and sighed. “Why is this nation so worried about nudity?”
“Humor us.”
As she crossed the room, moving like a panther, she picked up the fabric and slid it over her head. Sanders tried desperately not to memorize the look of billowing gray material flowing over perky, well-formed breasts. He also tried not to watch the cloth as it made its way—
The room filled with the sound of a head repeatedly banging against the door.
“I have no funnies, so I don’t need an audience,” she said, returning to the window.
“Jokes,” the Captain supplied. He seemed to find her black mood entertaining.
“I want out of this room.” Shanti’s eyes focused on the trees.
“You’re not healed.”
“I’m healed enough to leave this room.”
“Where would you go?”
“The park.”
“Then?”
Shanti was quiet. She was no longer welcome at Sanders’ house. A foreign naked woman fighting with the also naked man of the house in the middle of the night was not something wives got over. Or forgot about. Shanti understood that.
“It’s time for you to tell me who you are,” the Captain asserted, taking a chair.
Sanders preferred to stand. He was still uncomfortably tight in his groin.
“Is your wife okay?” Shanti asked suddenly, turning to face the Captain. Her eyes flicked to Sanders. “And Junice? Is she okay? And your bairn?”
“Our barn?” Sanders asked in confusion.
“Child. Baby. Little ‘un. Bairn.”
“How did you…”
The Captain’s eyes swiveled to Sanders with a question. Sanders answered them both. “She’s fine. They are both okay, as far as the doctor can tell.”
The Captain nodded in a congratulatory sort of way. Shanti turned her gaze back to the Captain. “And your family? Did they get to safety in time?”
FIERCE: Sixteen Authors of Fantasy Page 39
