"Elizabeth Vaughan - Chronicles Of The Warlands 01 - Warprize" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vaughan Elizabeth)

Heath rolled his eyes. тАЬIтАЩve heard that before. Have a care, little bird.тАЭ With that, he lifted the tent flap.

I stepped into the tent.

The first thing to hit me was the smell. Herbs, blood, and death. The men were crammed in close, with
more pallets than cots. There were no apprentices here, no helpers to air the place out or fresh linens or
help with bathing. I made do with what I had, which was precious little.

When I had first come into their midst, no one would let me touch them, much less speak to me. Their
language was fluid and fast, and IтАЩd a hard time trying to pick up the meaning. It had taken persistence
and sheer stubbornness on my part, but eventually a few allowed me to tend them. While they were all so
different, ranging from fair complexions to deep tan, to almost yellow, one thing held true. They all bled
red, and they all responded to my medicines. Thanks to the Goddess, a few spoke the trade tongue
rather well and were willing to translate.

I let my eyes adjust, greeted the two guards stationed inside, and moved further into the tent. There was
a silence when I stepped in, the tension palpable. Once they saw it was me, their relief was subtle, but
clear. It was the signal that they would be permitted to bathe, and wash clothes and bedding as best they
could. Unlike my Xyian patients, these men preferred being clean. There was even some sort of prayer
that they murmured as they poured the water.

тАЬLara.тАЭ

I turned and saw Rafe making his way to me, a smaller man, thin, with fair skin and deep black hair and
brown eyes. His face seemed always lit with a smile. One of the youngest, he had been the first to let me
treat him, and to help me learn the language. There were still gaps in my understanding, words that I
missed, or used incorrectly. But I was understood most of the time. These men did not seem to believe
that I could treat them. I certainly had not been able to help them deal with the strange headaches they
suffered from. But I had proved myself as to other hurts.

тАЬRafe, I hope that you are feeling better.тАЭ I spoke slowly, trying to get the correct sounds out of my
mouth. I looked carefully at the wound that ran down the side of his face. It appeared to be healing well.

Rafe quirked his mouth. тАЬYou still sound like a child at lessons.тАЭ

He followed as I moved to the center of the tent, where there was a small table. I sat down my supplies,
rummaged in my basket and produced ajar, which I handed to him. тАЬRub this on the gash, Rafe. It will
reduce the scar.тАЭ

He took the jar, but frowned. тАЬWhy so? It is an honorable scar.тАЭ

тАЬIt will still be honorable if it heals flat and tight.тАЭ These men had very strange ideas about injuries. Rafe
scowled, but kept the jar.

The men about us were already stirring, but Rafe shifted his weight, making no move to go bathe. A
shadow passed over his face.

тАЬIs something wrong?тАЭ 1 asked.

He hesitated and replied softly. тАЬThere is a new man here,тАЭ and jerked his head toward the back of the