Stranger in a familiar land

[Helena]

Talin Sedai

Talin ignored his febrile struggling the way one ignored a recalcitrant child. She wouldn’t waste her time arguing with what she knew to be best, and he was in no fit state to put up any notable resistance. Most would have sucked down salvation without question. Most would have been thankful an Aes Sedai chose to ply her trade at all, especially given where they were. But he only glared with an intense hatred that in other circumstances might have taken her aback. In return she simply forced him to drink.

Crimsonthorn was distinctively sweet. There was only ever a thin line between healing and harming, but everything had its place. Interesting that he recognised enough to be afraid.

“You won’t want to feel this,” she said. “And I need you to be still.”

It made no real difference whether he understood. Soon the numbness that stole his pain – or most of it, at least – would loosen his muscles and rob his ability to command his limbs. If he did not foolishly spend his time in pointless struggle, it would benefit him to focus on something nice as a distraction for the duration. Since Talin had no suggestions for what that might be, she did not voice it.

The dosage had been precise, for too much would stop him breathing. Clearly the patient anticipated ineptitude; another anomaly given the ring on her finger. He did not look Amadacian. Though perhaps it was hard to tell; he barely looked like a man at all. She set the goodwife, who by now seemed quite pale, to ensure he did not swallow his own ragged tongue. In the meantime Talin made sterile what she could, and arranged her instruments. Saidar, so far as she could discern, was useless for removing foreign objects from the body. And an injury could not be healed twice. The ribs were going to be an inconvenient obstacle. An interesting challenge, though.

“Whoever let it get this far in was a bloody fool,” she muttered.

The cut into his flesh was precise, meant to widen the incision enough to give her room for manoeuvring. Soon her hands were bloody to the wrist. If she could snap open the bone it would have been easier, but the slippery heat and rise and fall of his chest served to remind her he still lived. Briefly she wondered what might happen to him if the creature slipped away into the cavity beyond. It was difficult to tell how much the stab wound pierced the muscle, or what hollow tunnel it might have created. Thankfully it was an unintentional interloper, and not some ghastly creature from the Blight. Or so she assumed from the other telling marks on the man’s now cleaned skin. If it had been something nastier she doubted he would still be alive.

The leech’s darkly pulsating body camouflaged easily amongst the gore. Fortunately Talin had experience of the insides of bodies that did not rely on saidar to differentiate. It was fat, and it took a moment of frowning deliberation to determine where its body narrowed. Some primitive instinct urged her to wrench it away in disgust. Interesting how her own stomach roiled. Instead she slid the flat of her knife carefully underneath its mouth, and pinched its grotesque body. It was so engorged it barely gave resistance to capture. Talin straightened, peering in disgust at its squirming body. Then a thread of fire curled it into ash. She made a faint noise of disgust.

A moment later the heavy thud of a body hit the floor. Talin was not surprised but certainly annoyed to discover the woman had fainted.

“Come attend your wife! And bring me fresh water!” In the meantime she wiped her hands across the front of her borrowed apron. Pressed stained fingers to the patient’s wrist to check his pulse. She could suture the wound, but if he was going to survive the rest of his injury the sooner she conducted the remainder of her experiment the better. Healing the way the Sisters taught it was inelegant, like dousing a candle with a bucket of water. She’d never quite forgotten Nyrekell’s sneer at the many questions she’d asked as an Accepted. It was not so dissimilar to the way her family had looked at her after they found her with Mormo’s body. Talin had learned to be circumspect with that experience. She did not stop learning, but she did stop seeking approval. And here was a grand opportunity to learn without repercussion. 

Saidar was a guiding force. She did not flood him as one normally would, and she brought all five threads into the delicate flow. Her hands pressed against the angled carapace of his ribs. It was slow and difficult work, more intricate than anything she had attempted before. She did not react to the farmer’s gasp as he retrieved his wife from the sawdust floor, nor noticed when it was Kaori who fetched the water and led both of them out. Her attention arrowed entirely to the bloody binding of flesh.