Son of the Shadows. Juliet Marillier
well. Now, Bran, you see this point near the shoulder, where the bone is still whole?’
The man whom I had named after a legendary voyager gave a nod, his face tight lipped with disapproval.
‘You must cut here, to finish cleanly. Don’t let your knife slip down to this point, for the wound has no hope of healing if we leave fragments within. Concentrate on your job. Let the others hold him. I will cut back the flesh first with my small knife … where is my small knife?’
Gull reached down and extracted it from where he had stuck it in his boot.
‘Thank you. I’ll start now.’
I wondered, later, how I could possibly have stayed in control. How I managed to sound calm and capable when my heart was racing at three times its usual pace, and my body was breaking out in a cold sweat, and I was filled with fear. Fear of failure. Fear of the consequences of failure, not just for the hapless Evan, but for myself as well. Nobody had spelled out exactly what would happen if I got this wrong, but I could imagine.
The first part was not so bad. Cut neatly through the layers, peel back the skin, as far as the place where somebody had tied a narrow, extremely tight strip of linen around the arm, just below the shoulder. My hands were soon red to the wrists. So far, so good. The smith twitched and trembled, but did not wake.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Now you cut, Bran. Straight across here. Dog, hold tight. Keep him still. This must be quick.’
Perhaps the best assistant, at such times, is a man who has no understanding of human feelings. A man who can cut living bone as neatly and decisively as he would a plank of wood. A man whose face shows nothing as his victim jerks and thrashes suddenly, straining against the well-muscled arms that hold him, and lets out a shuddering moan straight from the depths of the gut.
‘Sweet Christ,’ breathed Snake, leaning his weight across the smith’s legs to keep him down. The horrible sawing noise went steadily on. The cut was as straight as a sword edge. By my side, Dog had his massive forearms planted one on the patient’s left arm, one across the upper chest.
‘Careful, Dog,’ I said. ‘He still needs to breathe.’
‘I think he’s coming to.’ Gull’s hands pressed heavily down on Evan’s right side. ‘Having trouble holding him still. Can’t you give him some more of the …?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘He’s had as much as he can safely take. We’re nearly done.’ There was a truly horrible sound as the last shard of bone was severed, and the mangled remains of the limb fell to the ground. Across the pallet from me, Bran looked up. There was blood on him to the elbows, and his shirt front was spattered with crimson. I detected no change at all in his expression. His brows rose in silent question.
‘Fetch the dagger from the fire.’ Díancécht help me, I must do this part myself. I knew what would happen, and summoned my will. Bran walked outside and returned with the weapon in his hand, hilt wrapped in a cloth, blade glowing as bright as a sword half-forged. His eyes asked another question.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Give it to me. This part is my work. Untie the last binding there. There’ll be blood. Then come round and help Dog hold him down. He’ll scream. Hold on tight. Keep him still.’
The binding came off, and there was a flow of blood, but less than I expected. That was not a good sign, for it might signify the flesh was already dying. Without a word I moved to the other side, and Bran took my place, ready to hold the smith as soon as he moved.
‘Now,’ I said, and touched the red-hot iron to the open wound. There was an unpleasant sizzling sound, and a sickening smell of roast meat. The smith screamed. It was a hideous banshee scream such as you might hear again and again in your dreams, for years after. His whole body convulsed in agony, chest heaving, limbs thrashing, head and shoulders kept still only by the efforts of both Dog and Bran who forced him down, muscles bulging. Big, ugly Dog was as white as a wraith.
‘Sweet Jesus,’ muttered Snake.
‘Sorry, not finished,’ I said, blinking back tears, and I touched the dagger to the wound again, moving it firmly so the whole area would be sealed. Forced myself to keep it there long enough, as another shuddering scream filled the air of the small shelter. Took the hot iron away, finally, and stood there as the smith’s voice died down to a wheezing, gasping whimper. The four men relaxed their grip and straightened up slowly. I didn’t seem to be able to move. After a bit, Gull took the dagger from my hands and went outside with it, and Dog began quietly picking things up off the ground and dropping them into a bucket, and Snake took the little cup of vinegar and, at a nod from me, began to sponge it, a few drops at a time, between Evan’s swollen lips.
‘I’m not going to ask where you learned that,’ Bran commented. ‘Are you happy you put him through this? Still convinced you’re right?’
I looked up at him. His severe features with their strange half-pattern blurred before my eyes, the feathered markings moving and twisting in the lamplight. I was aware, suddenly, of how weary I was.
‘I stand by my decision,’ I said faintly. ‘The time you have set me is too short. But I know I’m right.’
‘You may not be so sure, after six days in this camp,’ he said ominously. ‘When you’ve seen a little more of the real world, you will learn that everyone is expendable. There are no exceptions, be it skilful smith or hardened warrior or little healer girl. You suffer and die, and are soon forgotten. Life goes on regardless.’
I swallowed. The rock walls were moving around me.
‘There will be people looking for me,’ I whispered. ‘My uncle, my brother, my … they will be searching for me by now, and they have resources.’
‘They will not find you.’ His tone allowed for no doubt.
‘What about the escort that travelled with me?’ I was clutching at straws now, for I suspected they were all dead. ‘They cannot be far away. Someone must have seen what happened – someone will follow –’
My voice trailed away, and I put out a hand for balance as my vision filled with spinning stars.
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled foolishly as if excusing myself from polite company. Suddenly there was a very firm grip on my arm, and I was propelled to the wooden stool and pushed unceremoniously onto it.
‘Snake. Leave that for now. He’s still breathing, he’ll keep. Fetch the girl clean clothes, if you can find anything small enough. A blanket, water for washing. Go down to the fire, get yourself food, and bring some for her when you come back. She’s little enough use at her best; she’ll be none at all if we let her starve.’ He turned back to me. ‘First rule of combat. Only the most battle-tested can function well on little food and less sleep. That comes only with long practice. You want to do your job properly, then prepare for it properly.’
I was far too tired to argue.
‘You’ll get two guards tonight. One for outside, one to watch him while you sleep. Don’t let it make you complacent. You chose this task yourself, and you’re on your own after tonight.’
At last he was leaving. I closed my eyes, swaying with exhaustion where I sat. The smith lay quiet, for now.
‘Oh, and one more thing.’
My eyes snapped open.
‘This will have earned you a certain – respect. Amongst the men. Make sure you don’t let it develop into anything more. Any of them that breaks the code will face the severest penalty. You’ll have enough on your conscience, without that as well.’
‘What would a man like you know about conscience?’ I muttered as he turned on his heel and walked away. If he heard me, he gave no sign of it.
It was a strange time. There are tales of men and women taken by the Fair Folk of a moonlight night in the woods, who journey into the Otherworld and experience a life so different that, on return, they scarcely