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"Brekke ..." and here Minim's voice faltered briefly, "Brekke taught me how to
change sticky bandages because I... Oh, dearie me, your feet look just like
raw meat Ooops, that's not the right thing to say, but they do. TTiey wzS be
all right, Manora said," and there was such confidence in that statement that
Menolly preferred to believe it, too. "Now Threadscore . . . thaf s nasty.
You've just lost all the skin on your feet, thaf s aH, but I expect you feel
thaf s quite enough. Sony. Caught you there. Anyway, you'll not even have
scars once the new skin grows, and if s really amazing how quickly skin does
grow. Or so I've observed. Now Tnreadscore, thafs nasty for healing. Never
quite fades. Lucky for you Tgran's Branth spotted you running. Dragons are
very longsighted, you know. There, now, this should help..."
Menolly gasped involuntarily as Mirrim slathered cool numbweed on her right
foot. She'd been biting her lips against the pain while Mirrim, with very
gentle hands indeed, had removed the blood-caked bandages but the relief from
pain was almost a shock. If she'd only lost the skin from her feet, why did
they hurt so much more than her hand had?
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"Now, we've only the left foot to go. The numbweed does help, doesn't it? Did
you ever have to bofl it?" Mirrim asked with a groan and, as usual, didn't
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wait for an answer. 'Tor three days I just grit my teeth and dose my nose and
firmly remind myself that it would be so much worse if we didn't have
numbweed. I suppose thafs the bad with the good Manora's always saying we have
to have. But you'll be relieved to know that there's no sign of infection..."
"Infection?" Menolly jerked herself up on her elbows, craning her head about
"Will you keep still?" Mirrim glared so authoritatively that Menolly forced
herself to relax. All she could see of her feet were salve-smeared heels. "And
you're very, very lucky there isn't any infection. After all, you'd been
running shoeless over sand, dirt and goodness knows what It took us forever to
wash the grit off." Minim made a sympathetic sound. "Just as well we'd dosed
you good."
"You're sure there's no infection this time?"
"This time? You haven't done this before, have you?" Minim's voice was
shocked.
"No, not my feet My hand," and Menolly turned on her side, holding out her
scarred hand. She was considerably gratified by the concerned pity in Minim's
face as she examined the wound.
'However did you do that?"
"I was gutting packtafl, and the knife slipped."
"You were lucky to miss the tendons."
"Miss?"
"Well, you are using those fingers. A bit drawn that scar, though," Minim
clucked her tongue with professional dismay. "Don't think much of your Hold's
nursing if thafs any sample."
"Packtafl slime is difficulty as bad as Threadscore in its own way," Menolly
muttered, perversely defending her Hold.
"Be that as it may," and Mirrim gave the foot bandage a final twitch, "we'll
see you don't have any such
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trouble with your feet. Now, Fll bring you something to eat You must be
starved..."
Now that the worst of the dressing was over and the numbweed had deadened the
pain in her feet, Menolly was definitely aware of the emptiness in her
stomach.
"So I'll be right back, Menolly, and if you need anything after that, just
shout for Sanra. She's below on the Floor, minding the little ones, and she
knows she's to listen for you."
As Menolly worked her way through the generous meal Minim brought, she
reflected on some harsh truths. Definitely Mavi had given her the distinct
impression that she'd never be able to use her hand again. Yet Mavi was too
skilled a healer not to have known that the knife had missed the finger
tendons. She had deliberately let the hand heal with drawn flesh. It was
painfully clear to Menolly that Mavi, as well as Yanus, had not wanted her to
be able to play again.
Grimly Menolly vowed that she'd never, never return to Half-Circle. Her
reflections made her doubt Manora's assurance that she could stay at Benden
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