Warprize

difference…” He began. I lay my hand on his forehead, and Rafe’s gaze followed my gesture. “Do you mean his skin?”
    I nodded, and pulled my hand back, giving it a quick glance to see if any of the color had come off on my fingers.
    Rafe snorted. “There’s no difference beyond looks,” He cast a sly eye over at Joden. “Though there’s some that say Simus has more than his fair share of charm.”
    Joden grunted, but I could see a slight smile. I dug in the basket, and found a small bottle of orchid root which I handed to the other man, the one with the braids. “You are?”
    “Prest.”
    “See if you can get him to take two swallows of this. No more. It will ease him for when we clean the wound.”
    Prest nodded.
    “I will return when I am done with the others.” I stood. “Roll up the tents sides.” I called out. “Let’s air the place as best we can.” We had done this before, to add some light and fresh air to the tent. The guards were not happy, but they let me do this when I felt the need. As the walls were lifted, I could see the guards that ringed the tent on the outside. Xy-mund was taking no chances. As the men started moving, I got up and visited my other patients, checking wounds, using my salves and potions where needed. At first, I’d been pushed away, treated rudely whenever I tried to help. It had taken time, but I was tolerated by most, and welcomed by a few. But now there was a difference. While the men treated me well, I could tell that their attention was on my newest patient. Some who had never spoken to me before even went so far as to try to ask me about the man. Whoever he was, I suspected he was important.
    The kettles for the hot water were brought, and the bathing began. I had smuggled some old soap out of the castle that had hardened, forgotten in a storeroom. It had the faint scent of flowers, but was mild and worked well. I never made mention of this part to anyone in the castle. One could imagine the response to the idea of a Daughter of the Blood in a tent with naked men. But for some reason, it hadn’t occurred to anyone that a healer at some point had to deal with the actual body. I’d gathered old tunics and trous, so that they had spare clothing. Each man washed out his own, and the guards had been bullied into setting out a drying line. It was when they stripped down for bathing that I’d first seen the tattoos that each man had on his arms. A different pattern on both arms and I could make no sense of them. I’d asked about them but been rudely rebuffed.
    Before I returned to my new patient, I went to the guards by the entrance. The older one jerked his chin toward the back of the tent. “Is he bad, Lady?”
    “Yes. I’m going to clean the wound. It won’t be quiet.”
    He winced. “Aye, I would think not. I’ll warn the others as to what you are about.”
    “Thank you.” I cocked my head. “More water would not go amiss, either.”
    He sighed. “You know the King’s commands…” His voice trailed off as I looked at him. “Aye. More water, then.” He called through the tent flap as 1 turned to go back to my newest patient. They had stripped the man and gotten him on a pallet. Prest was standing to one side, carefully folding the man’s clothes in a neat pile. As I knelt, I could see that he looked better. The beads of sweat were gone, and his eyes were closed. His breathing seemed easier, too. Instead of tattoos on his dark skin, there seemed to be scars, but in a pattern as the others.
    “Two swallows.” Prest reported. I nodded, but my eye had already been caught and held by the wound. I waved the men out of my light, and leaned closer to get a better look. The wound had been packed with the man’s cloak. It was wadded up, and the blood had crusted to the cloth. I took fresh water, and soaked the material, easing it away from the scabs. Clearly, the wound had been tended in the field, but neglected since then. I glanced at Joden. “You did this?”
    Joden grunted. “It was all I had time for, before we were taken.”
    I grimaced in understanding and worked in silence. Once the material came free, I let it drop at my side as I got my first good look at the leg.
    It was bad. The gash started at the groin and got deeper as it went the length of the thigh. The edges were swollen, and white pus had gathered in its depths. There was grass and dirt and small stones embedded in the flesh. I reached out, touching the sides lightly, and