Inside the consultation room, Henrietta peeled back the bandages, taking a long, slow look at the fading blisters and the pink skin underneath. “It’s healing well,” she declared in the end. “I think you’re doing well enough to leave the bandages off from now on. The skin will still be tender, so I’d recommend you don’t start training with your sword again for another couple of days. And take some aloe gel. Rub it into your hands every morning and night. It’ll help keep the skin moist to let it heal without scarring.”
“Thank you,” Nalyx said, though the scowl never lifted from his face, and Gantalla chose to ignore it.
“Now, let’s take a look at your shoulder,” Henrietta said. “Take your shirt off. Or do you need a hand with that?” There was nothing at all patronising in her tone as she said it, but Nalyx’s scowl deepened.
“I can do it,” he said, gingerly sliding the fabric over his head. But Gantalla noted the way he winced as he raised his right arm.
Henrietta unwrapped the bandage around his shoulder, but her verdict was far less favourable this time. “Gosh, that unicorn made a right mess of this one. There’s no sign of infection, but Gantalla? You see where the skin’s peeling off where it was burned?” Henrietta was a diligent teacher, always eager to point out what she was seeing, so that Gantalla could learn from it. “A couple of the stitches are coming loose where the edges of the wound are dying. It’s perfectly normal, given the size of the wound, and how it came about,” she said to Nalyx. “But you’re a long way off from being able to use your arm again. I’ll fetch the doctor to get him to put another couple of stitches in.”
She hurried out of the room, leaving Nalyx and Gantalla in an awkward silence. Trying to avoid his stern gaze, Gantalla ran her eyes over the wound again… and then quickly realised that that had been a mistake. Because looking at his shoulder led her eyes down to his bicep, large and firm despite his relatively relaxed pose, and then her gaze slid across to the muscles of his chest. His pecs were covered in a light dusting of hair, and further down, his abs were smooth. A fine trail of hair dipped lower into the top of his trousers, and Gantalla recalled with startling clarity just what he looked like beneath his pants.
But Nalyx wasn’t interested in her, she reminded herself quickly. Or, at least, he wasn’t interested anymore. He might have been at the start, but his harsh rejection last night had made an impression.
Thankfully, she didn’t have much longer to ponder the mess between Hallix and Nalyx and the apparent jealousy going on there. The door opened and Henrietta came back in, followed by Doctor Samuel.
The doctor smiled when he saw Gantalla. “So lovely to see you again,” he said, his face lighting up. He was old enough that his hair was gradually turning silver, with a few creases around his eyes, but young enough to still have a quick mind and steady hands. It was hard to judge human ages, but Gantalla guessed he was about fifty, based on similar traits in a hadathmet. “Henrietta tells me you’re quite the diligent student. And the gods know we need more of those around here. But let’s see about this wound, shall we?” He turned to Nalyx, taking a seat in front of him and peering closely at his shoulder.
“Hm. Not bad, considering the state it was in when you arrived, but it’s still a way off from healing. I think three more stitches should do the job. Would you like some opium for the pain, before I start?”
“I’m fine,” Nalyx said, his tone just shy of a snarl. Samuel shrugged, and Gantalla supposed he must be used to dealing with warriors who were too stubborn for their own good.
Henrietta handed him a needle and thread, and he set about placing the stitches. As he worked, Nalyx sat still as a stone, not making even the slightest flinch as the needle bit into his flesh.
At first, Gantalla watched the doctor’s hands, intrigued by the process of sewing flesh back together again – something she’d never seen back in Chalandros – but as he placed the third stitch, she glanced up at Nalyx’s face, privately impressed by the way he hadn’t even made a sound. Stubborn, he may be, but stoic as well, and perhaps she’d underestimated just how brave these human warriors were.
To her shock, she found Nalyx staring straight back at her, and as his dark eyes met hers, she caught a hint of… Of what, exactly? Regret? Concern? Embarrassment, even? It was hard to tell.
It occurred to her that perhaps she wasn’t the only one to dislike Hallix and his arrogant posturing. She’d somehow assumed that the warriors, being a formidable army, were also a tight knit social group. But the more she saw, the more she realised that was not the case. She’d already seen the divide in the serving women, the older and wiser against the young and silly, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that there were similar divisions amongst the warriors. But who were the wiser, and who were the more naïve? Nalyx’s friend Calium had been young, but he’d seemed sensible, in the short time she’d spent in his company. Hallix was a powerful warrior, but his ego was easily bruised. Teasing out the details of the men’s culture was likely going to take a bit more time.
“All done,” Samuel announced a moment later, and Nalyx’s gaze snapped away from her face and back towards the doctor. “I’ll let Henrietta bandage you up and then you can be on your way. Come back in three days, and we’ll have another look.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
From the upper level of the hospital, Gantalla stared out the window, watching the warriors train in the town square across the street. The festival had officially finished the night before, though Gantalla hadn’t ventured back to see the finale for this cycle, and the tables and decorations had all been cleared away.
It was an impressive sight to see the men sparring with each other and going through sets of exercises. Several of them had removed their shirts, sweating freely in the afternoon sun, and the display of finely toned bodies and bulging muscles had fixed her attention as she’d taken an idle glance out the window after stripping the sheets off one of the patient’s beds. Their motions had a hypnotic quality, and it was easy to see their dedication to their craft.
“There you are,” a voice said from behind her, and Gantalla turned to see Nanta crossing the room to her side. “What are you… Oh! I see,” she said, cutting herself off as she saw what Gantalla was looking at. Nanta shot her a knowing grin. “Mm, well, I can’t blame you for wanting to watch. They make a fine sight, don’t they?”
Gantalla was a little surprised to realise it was true. The discipline and skill of the warriors was impressive, regardless of which side of the battle they were on, and Gantalla reflected that the hoards of Chalandrians fighting to get through the gate might fare a lot better if they could coordinate themselves and fight together even half as well as this army was doing. And while not as impressive as the salas warriors back home, Gantalla would have had to admit that there was something enticing about all that muscle on display.
As far as humans went, even Nanta and Henrietta were looking less ugly now, familiarity softening Gantalla’s perspective of them. Their brown skin was still plain, as compared to the red stripes on the chests of the black salases, or the almost iridescent glow of a blue rodolan, but kindness went a long way towards making up for a lack of physical beauty. Was it odd how quickly she was getting accustomed to this world? She thought perhaps that she should be feeling more resentment about the humans, blithely carrying on with their lives with no concern whatsoever about what was happening on the other side of the gate…
But that had always been an inevitable part of Gantalla’s plan to cross the gate. Her own survival depended on her making a new life for herself in the human world, fitting in, joining their society, and there was little point in being angry with them for providing the exact thing she was seeking.
But nonetheless, that made her wonder what was currently happening back in Chalandros. The desert would be empty now, the crowds of people who hadn’t made it through the gate returning to Iddishmeil until it opened again. Food would be scarce. Fights would break out over the limited supply of water. Salas warriors still loyal to the Stone King would be guarding the city, protecting their scant resources from bands of raiders. But far from getting on with any semblance of life, the people in the city would just be waiting. Waiting for the gate to open again, to risk their lives in the next run into the human world. Some of them would simply be waiting to die, too old or weak to make the crossing through the desert. And the days would be getting ever hotter, the population sheltering in stone buildings or hiding in underground bunkers, emerging at dawn and dusk, when the temperatures were more bearable.
“I was just coming to tell you you’ve got the afternoon off,” Nanta said, interrupting Gantalla’s thoughts. “The nurses work five and a half days each week, so you’re free for the afternoon, then again on Saturday. Since you’re still fairly new here, you might want to take a look around the town. Visit some shops. Spend some of that coin you’ve earned.” She glanced out the window again. “Or maybe go and visit that handsome warrior I hear you’ve been hanging around with?”
Gantalla blushed, but said nothing. Apparently, the time she’d spent with Nalyx hadn’t gone unnoticed, though Nanta clearly hadn’t heard about his decidedly cool attitude towards her the day before. Nalyx had left the hospital after getting his wounds checked without so much as a goodbye.
“Thank you,” she said to Nanta, managing a weak smile. “I might just do that. Some of the shops look very interesting.”
She gathered her things, dropping the soiled sheets off in the hospital laundry, then let herself out the front door. The shops were a tempting option, though Gantalla only intended to look, rather than buy anything. With coin still scarce, she was more inclined to save what she’d earned rather than splurge on luxuries. But the sight of the warriors training beckoned, and without quite intending to, she found herself crossing the street. Just a quick look, she told herself. Then she’d head off to explore the city.
But as she reached the edge of the square, a familiar figure caught her eye, sitting on the wall at the side of the training ground. Nalyx. He was dressed for training, in a loose pair of pants and a light, cotton shirt, but he wasn’t taking part in any of the exercises. And the strip of bandage peaking out from beneath his shirt was a clear reminder as to why.
But Nalyx had made it clear she was no longer welcome in his life, and Gantalla resolved to leave him alone. But just before she turned to leave, Nalyx looked up, and his eyes met hers for a brief moment. He looked away… but then a moment later, he looked back again. His scowl softened, and he tilted his head, inviting her over. If he was inclined to make peace between them, it was probably worth seeing what he had to say. Gantalla headed in his direction, not entirely sure what was going to happen when she arrived.
