Lookingdown, he saw sutures and bandages in the place where two knives had previouslyjutted from his arm.There was a deep bruise where the tourniquet had been.Theburn on his leg had been swabbed, cleaned, and packed with poultice.He couldstill feel the edges of the wound.It was fairly deep.He would have to cleanit again, and frequently thereafter.
“Weneed to go,” a second male said.“We can’t stay here.It won’t be long beforethey send a search.”
“Ain’tholding you hostage,” Zaria said.“Run along, then.”
Thewoman continued to sob.
“Youshould come,” the first male said.“Help us finish the climb.I don’t know howwell we can manage on our own, and ...well, even if the coma subsides—”
“I’mnot hearing this again.He’ll pull through.”
“Theblood loss—”
“He’s atough little cunt.I’m sure he could fuck a sunbloodand just be wiping his cock afterward.”
Therewas a pause.
“Right,”said the first voice.“Well, if you’re sure....”
“There’sno doubt for me.”There were footsteps, coming closer.“Do as you wish.I’m notleaving ‘til he’s up.”
Thetent shifted.Isaac managed to lift his head.Through the glare of the sun, hecould see Zaria’s face poking inside.The cloth she had wrapped around her eyehad been replaced with proper bandaging, though her fur was still matted withblood and dust.She looked like a soldier who had narrowly survived a battle.
“Well,now,” she said, breaking into a grin.“Look who’s returned.”
Isaacattempted to rise, but he only managed to climb a few inches before hisstrength completely waned.He felt as if his body had been filled with lead.
Zariacrawled inside the tent, her considerable frame nearly uprooting the poles.“How’re we feeling, then?”
“Alive.”
“Rightyou are.”She almost said something else, but seemed to lose the words as shelooked down at him.“Wasn’t looking that way, for a good while.”
Histhroat was painfully dry.“Water.”
Shereached over to the side and handed him the same stone bowl he used to preparehis potions.Inside, there was a limpid broth, filled with crushed walnuts andshreds of salted meat.It looked about as appetizing as old bath water, butIsaac drank it greedily, draining the cup, barely chewing the leathery meat.
Thetent rustled again.He saw movement at the glare of the entrance.
Threeof the Khador students were staring inside.The sigils on their foreheads werejagged and scarred, the flesh blackened along the deep grooves and windingcircles.There were two boys and one girl, and they must have been close toIsaac’s age, but, at the moment, their faces were gaunt and worn, and theirrobes hung like curtains on their bodies.Berith had clearly drained a portionof their energy.
Berith.The blood.
Isaactried to sit up again, managing to get to his elbows before Zaria pushed a firmhand to his chest.
“You’retakin’ a rest,” she said.
“I needto—”
“Squire,I swear to gods, I’ll tie you up again.”
“Howare you feeling?”one of the male apprentices asked.
Isaacswallowed.“Weak.Cold.”He gestured at his sutures.“Did you make thepoultice?”
“Yes,”said the other boy.“Professor Berith showed us how.”
Thegirl peered from behind the two boys, her cheeks red and streaked with tears.She was watching Isaac with a strange familiarity.
