I stumbled over a rock. There was dirt and moss on my skirts.
He moved closer. "Are you alright?"
"I can go on." I struggled up, more steps.
"That's not what I asked." His forehead creased.
One of the orcs came up beside him, whispered something,gestured to me. I had to be faster; I was not prepared to be snatched up and carried by one after another of these brutes. I tried to put more force, more confidence into my movement, even as my legs felt like wood. No…
Khal approached me. "Your feet are bleeding."
"I'm fine. It's nothing."
"You're leaving a trail. There are things that will begin stalking us."
I stopped. Everything was worse when I stopped, as if it gave my body permission to cry out.
"You need to sit."
My legs trembled. I lowered myself into the moss. He pulled off my shoe and I gritted my teeth. His companion cursed a streak of expletives.
The blisters had broken. If even I knew to expect that, no one else should be surprised. Women's house shoes were not made for distance travel; they were made for mincing quietly and staying where you were put. The raw flesh along my heel made that acidly clear.
Khal's face was a mask, unreadable. "Why didn't you say something?" he said, monotone.
I tensed up, fighting not to flinch. "I can still walk."
His companion cursed another streak. I lost the thread of it but heard "rutting feral, bleeding humans…"
"Tell them to pause. We have to treat this."
The words burst out of me. "I'm fine?—"
"This is not fine." Khal stared down, grim. "This is not clean. You could get blood-sick."
I bit my lip, trying not to scream as desperation clawed in my chest.
"I am responsible for you." There was something pained in his voice, his face. "Krashal, do we have teeth?"
"I have a few. Hagmar has more."
"Please get what you can."
Oh God, were they going to take my feet off? My hands clawed into the loam. Hysteria was gripping me. I just had to make it a few more days or weeks physically able to run, and now I couldn't even do that. His friend handed him something and sprinted off into the trees. Khal Drahza's-son reached to his hip and unsheathed a massive knife. I stopped breathing. I felt my head start to pound, my hands heating in the moist soil. He grabbed up a rock.No no no no-
A sharp scent burst on the air. He lay another white shape on the rock and crushed it with the knife, the papery skin peeling open. "I'm putting the cart before the horse," he muttered. He uncorked a water skin. "We have to rinse this, at least. The teeth do a lot, but you don't want earth in a wound." He lifted my foot by the ankle, careful not to touch the open places where the blisters had burst. "This may sting a moment."
I didn't make a sound.
"I'll replace this," he said. "We'll get you something fitting, when we reach the enclave." - and he cut a strip off the bottom of my skirt.
He spread the paste from the cloves on the cloth, kept cutting bandages as he wrapped, and I didn't protest as the skirt rose another inch. By the time my second shoe came off it was inching towards my mid calf, towards indecency for a noble woman; almost getting short for a peasant. But if I stayed out of too much attention, moved quickly through the market streets, I could make it work until I reached an employer who'd advance me a set of clothes. The guild would value my talents; I could get the pull I needed there, if I just managed to talk to the right people first…my heart was jittering. I needed to stop thinking about scattered plans, root into the present. The soil was dry and crumbly under my hands, despite the shade. The paste as it came against my wounds was warming. Khal leaned forward, the muscles rippling in his arms as he worked. A wide necklace with a series of objects and knots swung and rested across his chest. I tried to identify the pieces, get my mind off how very close he was; how helpless I was. There was an animal's claw, a carved figure of a badger, a blue piece of broken glass…
"It's a protection against sorcery." He noticed me staring, was looking into my eyes. "It's meant to anchor the mind, prevent the holder being charmed." He was watching me, like he was searching. "Did you feel it? Since your blood has sorcery?"
Oh, that's what he was looking for. Some sign I'd tried to ensorcell him. If only. "The house of Belnor’s bloodline has long become weak. Few are born with the power, and of those who are, even fewer awaken it." I closed my eyes, fighting not to flinch as he worked. "Every bastard child with the baron's eyes is dragged into the fortress and even then, they have no sorceress."
Several of the others had emerged from the brush.
