Son of the Shadows. Juliet Marillier

had a face pockmarked with small scars, and feral yellow eyes. His chin was etched with a neat pattern, the ink marked into the skin in cross-hatched lozenges from lip to jaw line. The second man bore markings around his wrists, as of twined serpents, and over his tunic he wore a strange garment that appeared to be fashioned of snakeskin. Again, the flesh of the face was etched and coloured, this time on the brow. A design of cunningly interlocked scales, and a forked, venomous tongue drawn down the ridge of the nose. He was younger, perhaps not yet five and twenty, but like the others, a hard-looking man, a man only a fool would meddle with. The dark one was more simply dressed, and if there were patterns on his inky skin, I could not see them. His only adornment was in his tightly curling hair, which he wore in many braids to the shoulders. Behind the left ear, a single feather made a lighter patch against the black. He saw me looking.

      ‘Gull,’ he said. ‘Keeps me in mind of the sea.’ He nodded at the others in turn. ‘Dog. Snake. We have no other names here.’

      ‘Very well,’ I said politely, pleased that my voice was coming out reasonably steady. It seemed important not to let them know how frightened I was. ‘Then I need not give mine. Which of you was it gave me this headache?’

      Two of them looked at the one with the wolf’s claws and half-shaven head. Dog. He was a very big man.

      ‘Didn’t expect you to fight,’ he said gruffly. ‘Got a job for you. Couldn’t risk you screaming. Women do scream.’

      The moaning started again. It was coming from the rocks behind us.

      ‘Someone’s hurt,’ I said, getting up carefully.

      ‘That’s it,’ said the black one, Gull. ‘You’re the healing woman, aren’t you? The one they said might pass through the village?’

      ‘I have some skills,’ I said cautiously, for I did not want to give too much away. If they were who I thought they were, then it would be wise to be very, very careful. ‘What’s the matter with this man? Can I look at him?’

      ‘That’s what you’re here for,’ said Dog. ‘Better make it quick. Chief’s due back, and we need a good answer for him, or this man won’t see another sunrise.’ The language they used was quite odd, a jumbled mixture of Irish and the tongue of the Britons, word and phrase chosen, it seemed, from whichever happened to suit them. Their speech was fluent but accented; Snake, perhaps, was a man of Ulster, but I doubted the others had owned either of these tongues from birth. It was just as well I had a parent of each extraction; I could follow well enough, if I concentrated, though here or there they slipped in a word the meaning of which was quite unknown to me, as if still another language lent its own touch to this peculiar speech.

      I had seen and tended to many injuries, some of them severe. A festering knife wound; a nasty accident with a pitchfork. But I had never seen anything like this. The man lay in a sheltered area in a sort of half-cave, safe from rain and wind and the sun’s heat. There had been some attempt to make him comfortable on a makeshift pallet, and there was a rough stool by it, and water and a quantity of noisome linen. On the ground were a flask and another of the dark metal cups. The man was gasping now, turning his head from side to side in pain, and his skin was pallid and beaded with sweat. His right arm was bandaged from shoulder to fingertips, and the whole length of it was red with blood. You could see, without unwrapping the stained cloth, that the limb was more than broken. The flesh of bare chest and shoulder was streaked with a dull, angry crimson.

      ‘What have you given him for the pain?’ I asked crisply, rolling up my sleeves.

      ‘He can’t keep anything down,’ Dog said. ‘There’s strong wine in the flask; we tried that, but he can’t swallow it, or if he does, he’ll be retching it back before you can count to five.’

      ‘We doctor ourselves here, and do well enough,’ said Gull. ‘But this – this we can’t deal with. Can you help him?’

      I was unwrapping the bloody dressings, trying not to screw up my face at the smell.

      ‘When did this happen?’ I asked.

      ‘Two days since.’ Snake was there too now, one eye on me and my patient and the other keeping a lookout. For the Chief, I presumed. ‘He’s careful, mostly. Lost his grip, this time. Trying to shift a load off the cart by himself. Caught a weight of scrap iron, crushed his arm to nothing. Would’ve been a goner if Dog here hadn’t pulled him away in time.’

      ‘Not fast enough,’ said Dog, scratching the bald side of his head.

      I finished unrolling the stained and stinking linen as the injured man bit his lip, feverish eyes fixed on my face. He was conscious, but I thought not really aware of what was before him, or of the words that were spoken. I turned away from the pathetic, shattered remnant of his limb.

      ‘This man has little chance,’ I said quietly. ‘Ill humours already spread through his body from this injury. The arm cannot be saved. He has days of agony ahead of him. I can help with that. But it is unlikely I can save his life. It might, indeed, have been better if he had died then, straight away. You’ve done your best, I can see that. But this may be beyond the skill of any healer.’

      They were all silent. Outside it was growing darker.

      ‘I can at least make him more comfortable,’ I said finally. ‘I hope you had the sense to bring my things.’ My heart sank at the prospect of dealing with such an injury out here with no tools, no ready supply of the strong herbal mixtures I would need.

      ‘Here,’ said Dog, and there it was, my small bag, neatly packed and strapped. He dropped it at my feet.

      ‘What happened to my guards?’ I asked as I crouched to undo the bindings and find what I needed.

      ‘Best you don’t know,’ said Snake from where he still kept lookout. ‘Less you know the better. If you want to get home.’

      I rose to my feet. The three of them were all watching me closely. It would have been intimidating had I not been so intent on my task.

      ‘We’d hoped you’d be able to do more,’ said Gull bluntly. ‘Save his life, if not the arm. This man’s a good man. Strong. Steady.’

      ‘I’m no miracle worker. I’ve told you what I think. I can promise no more than to make his last days easier. Now, can you fetch me some hot water, and is there any clean linen? Get this out of here, and burn it, for it’s beyond washing. I’ll need some sort of jug, if you have one, and a bucket or bowl.’

      ‘Not now,’ said Snake sharply. ‘Chief’s coming.’

      ‘Curse it.’ Dog and Snake were gone in a flash. Gull hovered in the entrance.

      ‘I take it this Chief’s not going to throw out the welcome mat for me?’ I asked, trying not to show my fear. ‘You’ve broken some rule in bringing me here?’

      ‘More than a few,’ Gull said. ‘My doing. Best thing you can do is keep your mouth shut. Chief can’t abide women. Let me do the talking.’ Then he too was gone. I heard the sound of voices, further away. My patient let out his breath, and sucked it in suddenly, and his body began to tremble all over.

      ‘It’s all right. It’s all right,’ I said, silently cursing the isolation, and the lack of ready materials and reliable assistance. A pox on them. Asking me to do good here was like – was like expecting a man to plough a field with his bare hands. How could they do this to me? How could they do it to one of their own?

      ‘… help … help me …’ The injured man was looking right at me now, and there was some sort of recognition in the too-bright eyes. His features were so drained and white, it was hard to tell what manner of man he had been, of what years or origin. He was tall and strongly built, in keeping with his trade. The left arm was well muscled, the heaving chest sturdy as a barrel. It only made the pathetic bundle of flesh and bone on his right side more pitiful. He would take a long time to die.

      ‘… lady … help …’

      The voices outside came close, and