"Elizabeth Vaughan - Chronicles Of The Warlands 02 - Warsworn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vaughan Elizabeth)

want?"
I smiled at him. "As much as I can get, Gils. Do you remember what it can do?"

He gave me a scornful look. "I's know, Warprize." He bent to his task, his voice taking on a
chanting tone. "Bloodmoss is for packing wounds. It grows at the site of great battles. It will
not bind to the flesh, will not stick in the scabs. It seems to aid healing, prevent souring of the
flesh and will close the wound. It absorbs as much blood as it can, and when you are done with it
you should scatter it about, for the plant will use the blood to take root and grow." He stood,
his hands full of more leaves.

Marcus groaned. "A blood-sucking plant. More knowledge than I need."

I was pleased. But Gils's memory had never been a problem in his lessons. Firelanders were
blessed with perfect memories, since they had no written word. No, it was the practical
application of the information that had been Gils's difficulty. My feet had been a good example.

It's one thing to talk about cleaning and treating a soured wound. It's another to work on a
wiggling patient who couldn't help but jerk her feet at every touch. Finally, in frustration
Marcus had me lie on my stomach, and he and Keir held my feet as Gils cleaned them. The boy
had done the best he could, but the right foot had become an angry, red, and pus-filled wound.
Which forced poor Gils to try to clean it out with an angry and worried Warlord of the Plains
hanging over his shoulder, watching his every move.

I leaned forward, holding my hand in front of Marcus's face. "It's wonderful, Marcus. Give me
your knife and I'll show you how it works."

"Skies above." Marcus jerked his head back and the horse danced beneath us. "It's more like
you'll cut your hand off. Not with my knife!"

Isdra laughed, and moved her horse closer. "Show me, Warprize." She pulled her knife and
sliced deep into the meat beneath her thumb. Blood welled up quickly.

I took the leaves and twisted them, crushing then-fibers. A strong scent of mold rose into my
nostrils. "Take this and press it to the cut."

Isdra wiped her blade clean on her trous and sheathed it, then used her fingers to press the
mass to the cut. The leaves turned color almost immediately as they drank up the blood,
changing to a pale green. Gils craned his head to see, and Isdra lowered her hand to let him get
a good look. At my nod, she pulled the leaves away. The skin was healed, with only an angry
red line left to show she'd been hurt. Isdra held her hand up to show the others, and let the used
leaves fall to the ground.

Prest and Rafe were clearly impressed, and Rafe started to gather the crop in earnest. Gils
squatted, staring at the bloody leaves intently. I watched for a minute, then smiled. "Gils, I
don't think it will take root while you watch."

"Oh." He was clearly disappointed as he started to gather more.

"And what do we have to be careful of when we use this plant?" I asked him gently.