Yet, he’d told the truth. His angry outburst expressed his torment over the future he foresaw if he didn’t get his sight back. If he lost his eye, he’d lose his place in the clan. Then, he’d have to give her up, too. She deserved to be with someone who could protect her. The thought tore at his guts. He wanted her, but only if he remained the man he once was—with both eyes.
He had to keep his distance until he knew who he would be, the warrior or the half-blind man.
He was confused, and he knew it. And tired from the walk outside, which added to the anger he struggled to control. How could he fight for his clan if a walk around the bailey exhausted him?
He felt a slight movement, as if Janet shifted her weight from foot to foot. She was waiting for him to answer her. “Nay, ye needna take me to my own chamber. Stay and enjoy the feast. I can find my way.”
“Third door?—”
“On the right. I ken it.” He moved away without another word. He was at a loss for how to deal with Janet…or Ella…at this time. The healer must take these bandages from his eyes. Then, the deception he feared they practiced would be impossible. And he would know whether he had two good eyes and the future he had worked for his entire life, or if he would be forgotten among the clan’s crippled and ill, struggling to find a way to make use of any skills he retained.
It was a grim thought, and soured his mood further. He needed tosee! But after Janet’s admonition, he retained enough sense not to rip the bandages from his head and eyes himself.
Where was the healer?
He stood still for a moment, orienting himself to the increase in sounds and movement around him as preparations for the feast got underway in the great hall. Had he gotten turned around? Which way should he go? Ah, the great hall’s hearth was ahead of him…there. The scent of burning wood was stronger in that direction. The way sound bounced around the hall, seeming farther away in the same direction, told him the shape of the room. The stairs were…there. Someone was clumping down in heavy boots. Which meant the herbal was to the left. He turned that way, going slowly so as to avoid barking his shins on a bench or tripping over a trestle table. People saw him coming, of course, and helped him avoid obstacles. He thanked them andmoved on, embarrassed to be treated as one who could not take care of himself, even though he knew they meant their assistance as a kindness.
Could he face them with a warrior’s pride once he could see again? Or worse, could he live among those who’d known him as a warrior when half his sight was gone forever? That would be harder to survive than any battle he’d fought up to now. He must be freed from this darkness before he went mad. If he wasn’t there already.
The last helpful voice told him he’d reached the hallway he wanted. Once he’d successfully transited the great hall, getting to his objective was easy.
“Healer, are ye within?” He knew he’d come to the right place. The scents of herbs and flowers, added to the often acrid or odorous potions and poultices she was constantly making, assaulted his nose.
“Good day to ye,” he heard her say. “Where is…Janet?”
Her hesitation gave him another reason to think Janet was Ella. He didn’t let Mhairi’s use of the name distract him. “I left her to find her friends to enjoy the feast, and came to find ye.”
“Come in, then. There’s a stool six paces ahead of ye to yer right hand. Have a seat and tell me what ye want.”
“I want ye to remove these wrappings from my eyes,” he said as he found the stool and settled one cheek on it, then slid over to sit on it fully. “It has been long enough.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
He felt as much as heard the healer approach him. He fought to keep his voice calm and level as he told her, “If ye dinna remove them, I will. I’ve lived in darkness too long. I must ken what my future will be.”
She stayed silent long enough that he began to sweat. Would she deny him?
“I will uncover yer eyes long enough to check the injured one,” she said. “But ye must accept that if I dinna like what I see, I may have to cover it yet again.”
“Please. Dinna do that.” He couldn’t believe he’d been reduced to begging, but that’s what blind men did, was it not? Only he would not be blind, merely one-eyed, if the healing had not gone well.
“Turn toward my voice. Ye will keep yer eyes closed,” she ordered as she clipped the binding around his head and unwound it.
The feel of cool air on the skin of his face that she’d kept covered for weeks, except for brief periods when she changed the bandages, nearly undid him.
“Eyes closed,” she reminded him, then removed the pad over his damaged eye. “I’m going to touch yer eyelid,” she warned, slid a warm finger down from his eyebrow and pulled up the lid.
Brightness assaulted him, but he reveled in it.
“Hmmm. What do ye see?”
“Light. Brightness. How is it?”
She let go of his lid. “Keep it closed.”
He was happy to comply, wincing against the sting of tears the sudden brightness elicited. But her failure to answer him made his gut tense.
She removed the pad from his other eye. “Verra well. Open them slowly,” she ordered.
