Impossible Things (21 page)

She was beginning to shiver, which Kael knew was actually a good sign.

‘Now, I’ve just got to take this mail shirt off you, and you’ll feel a lot better.’ He stared despairingly at where it had been mashed into her arm.
I did that
. He turned away, hating himself, and swiped at his eyes.
She can’t see you crying, idiot
.

He forced himself over to the cabinet where Karnos had always kept his heavy-duty instruments, the stuff he kept out of sight to avoid frightening people. Ishtaer appeared not to have changed the set-up, for among the saws and straps and pliers, he found a pair of bolt cutters. Only he knew Karnos never used them for bolts.

Attempting not to shudder, he went back to Ishtaer, who sat exactly as he’d left her, and very carefully started to cut the mail shirt and coif off her. The heavy metal shirt began to slide away, and she flinched as it tugged on the wound in her arm.

‘Sorry, sorry, I’ll make it stop, just be brave a minute longer, you’re doing so well,’ he babbled, pulling carefully at the cold metal as she sobbed and shivered and he cursed himself with every breath.

When the shirt finally slithered to the floor he let out his breath and stripped off the sleeveless padded jerkin she wore underneath. Beneath this, instead of the corsets worn by fashionable ladies or the fabric breast band favoured by working women, she wore a tightly fitted leather vest over her shirt. It was fastened with buckles at the sides – dimly, he realised it must be one of Malika’s creations – and getting ever tighter as it dried.

‘Ishtaer. Ish.’ He touched her shoulder. ‘I have to take this off you. It’s soaked through and freezing. I have to take all your clothes off but it’s just so I can get new ones on you, understand? That’s all.’

She quivered in response, so like the terrified slave he’d first met. She’d come so far and done so well, and now …

He shook his head and made himself walk to her bedroom, retrieve a woollen nightgown and thick socks, and go back out. She hadn’t moved.

Kael braced himself, and cut through the ties at the side of her vest. He peeled it away and simply tore her sodden shirt off her. Ishtaer shivered violently.

Her breasts were small and lovely and blue with cold. He dragged the nightgown over her head and carefully pulled her arms through the sleeves as if he were dressing a baby. Next he unfastened her breeches, said, ‘I’m not looking at you, I won’t look,’ and pulled them off her as fast as he could, tugging the nightgown down over her legs and pushing socks onto her feet.

‘There, isn’t that better? Warmer? I’ll get you a blanket,’ he prattled inanely, going back to her bedroom and fetching one from the pristinely made bed. He wrapped it around her, then simply scooped her up and carried her over to the stove, sitting down on the floor with his back to the wall and Ishtaer in his lap. Her left arm was cradled by her right, which he figured was a good sign. There was no way he was going to try to fix it right now. She had to come back to herself first.

‘Just rest, sweetheart. Just rest, and warm up. You’ll be fine. You’ve been really brave.’

She rested her head against his chest, and said nothing.

Ishtaer woke to the sort of intense pain she thought she’d left behind, and a confusingly contrasting sensation of warmth and comfort. Someone held her close, a blanket covering them both. A large body. A male one. He smelled of sage soap and sweat and his heart beat strongly in his chest.

She lifted her head. ‘Kael?’

‘Yes, love?’

She tried to collect her thoughts, not entirely sure where she was or what she was doing in his arms. Again. Against her feet rested something large, warm and heavy. Something with a damp nose and a thumping tail. Brutus. Ishtaer smiled and tried to reach out to him, but her arms were tangled in the blanket and her right forearm throbbed abominably.

‘You were freezing cold, sweetheart, and in shock. I had to warm you up. This seemed the best way.’

Of course. The pond. The fierce cold.

A shudder wracked her, memory clawing its way up from the darkness.
The crack of bone, the cold, the laughter—

‘Ishtaer?’

She held on tight to that voice.

‘How’s Garik?’

‘He’s fine. Mags is looking after him. We know how to deal with the cold.’ He gently squeezed her shoulder. ‘How are you feeling?’

Ishtaer considered this.

—the clawing pain, the crack of bone, the last time I fought back, the darkness—

—I’ll never let anyone hurt you—

Her voice was hoarse when she replied, ‘Exactly how someone who jumped into a frozen pond with a broken arm ought to feel.’

He gave a soft laugh. ‘Well, you’ve warmed up at any rate. I didn’t want to treat that arm until you were out of the woods. And I … I don’t think you should use your crystals to treat it, either. You’re not strong enough. Not tonight.’

Ishtaer would have protested, but right now she wasn’t sure she could keep her head up and her eyes open, let alone concentrate on healing broken bones. She forced herself to think, to concentrate on healing. Even when she’d been terrified, she could always find the best way to treat something.

Nearly always.

‘There’s a brace somewhere. Rods and straps and a sort of winch. For traction. That will do, if you’ll help me.’

‘Of course I will.’ He paused. ‘I’ve been on the receiving end of that brace. It’s not pleasant.’

She held on tight to the conversation. ‘Have you been on the receiving end of fire ointment? Karnos’s notes said it dealt with foreign bodies and infections, and I think this wound has both. Gods only know what I picked up in that pond, and there’s some metal still embedded.’

Kael sucked in a breath. ‘Fire ointment. Evil stuff. I mean … yes, it’ll remove anything that’s not supposed to be there, but it feels … well, like you’re on fire.’

‘I suppose that’s why he called it fire ointment. You’ll have to strap my arm down, then,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘I don’t want to make it worse.’

For a long moment Kael held her a little bit tighter, and she thought she felt him brush something against her hair.
It was just the blanket
, she told herself as he stood up and carried her to a chair.

He clanked around with the contents of the chest containing the more heavy duty implements, and then he was back, taking careful hold of her right arm and laying it against the arm of the chair.

‘You sure about this?’

The darkness loomed, memory tugging her down again.
The unbearable pain, too much to fight against, the helplessness, the apathy.

Just don’t hurt me any more.

‘Just do it quickly, before I change my mind.’

He strapped her arm tightly to the chair, elbow and wrist, and Ishtaer braced herself.
He’s doing it to help you.
The fire ointment had tingled on her finger, but that was nothing compared to the cold burn of it against her wounded flesh.

But it was bearable. It wasn’t so bad.

She’d just opened her mouth to say so, when Kael lit a match.

The burn of the ointment alight was excruciating. The metal rings, the bits of cloth, the pond dirt, all flared into burning, hideous heat, and she screamed, shaking and thrashing. Hands held her down. She supposed they were Kael’s. She kicked and sobbed and fought. Someone cried out, ‘You won’t hurt me again, you won’t!’ and she didn’t know if it was herself or her memory.

By the time the burning had subsided to a level she could bear, she was back in Kael’s lap again, his hands holding her arm away from her body, still attached to the chair arm.

‘Told you it was horrible,’ he said, and she gasped, pain throbbing through her. Her left hand clutched Kael’s arm, her fingers digging into his flesh, holding on tight. If he was here, he was real, solid, not a memory – then she was here too, and her memories couldn’t hurt her any more.

She forced her fingers to unbend, to touch her injured arm. The wound was clean. The flesh was hot from the fire, but not from infection. And even as she felt at it with her free hand, it seemed to be closing over.

‘Right,’ she said shakily. ‘That’s the first bit done with.’

This time she didn’t imagine it. He kissed the top of her head. ‘Well done. Now we just have to set the bone.’

‘Bones. They’re both broken.’

A ragged sigh escaped him. ‘Ishtaer, I’m so sorry—’

I won’t ever let anyone hurt you
.

‘It’s not your fault. Well, I mean it is your fault, but it’s … it’s all right. Accidents don’t count.’

He took in a deep breath and let it out. ‘Nonetheless, I’m still sorry.’

She found a smile from somewhere. ‘You can make it up to me by helping reset my arm.’

‘Any time,’ he said, helping her back up, supporting her injured arm very carefully.

He strapped her to the chair again, this time her torso and upper arm, and moved her forearm into the contraption she’d found when she first arrived, and grimly deduced the purpose of. To reset the bones, he’d need to pull them into alignment, and then keep the traction on until the bones had set. This meant an extra set of hands to apply the splints before traction was removed. With a mechanical device to hold the limb in place, one person could treat a broken bone by himself.

Only not, Ishtaer knew from bitter experience, if the person treating the broken bone was also the patient.

Concentrate. Hold on tight to the here and now. Don’t let the memory take you.

‘Do you have the splints ready? There are some ready formed—’

‘I’ve got it sorted. Just brace yourself, okay?’

‘Maybe I should—’

‘Stay exactly where you are, and trust me. I’ve done this before.’

Ishtaer squeezed her eyes shut out of pure reflex.

Kael turned the wheel that would stretch her wrist away from the elbow and she forced herself to keep her breathing even as the broken bones shifted.

Briefly she considered knocking herself out, but that would be no good as it could be hours before she came round and she needed to check the bones really had aligned properly. Numbing only one part of the body was something many Healers found very difficult to do, and it required immense concentration. Ishtaer was currently having problems remembering her own name. If she tried to numb her arm it would probably fall off.

‘Keep talking,’ she gasped. ‘Keep me here and now.’

‘Ishtaer?’

‘I won’t go back there. I won’t.’

He let out a harsh breath. ‘No. You won’t. I’m here. I’ll always be here when you need me.’

Kael’s strong fingers probed gently at the site of the break, and she gasped out a sob.

‘Nearly there,’ he soothed. ‘Just a little more. You’re doing so well.’

‘I’m having my arm reset,’ she ground out, ‘not giving birth.’

‘I’m aware of the difference,’ Kael said, a touch of laughter in his voice. He turned the wheel a fraction more. ‘When Mags had Durran she screamed the place down.’

‘You were … there?’

‘Aye. She needed someone’s hand to break.’

‘I’m glad you were there when … your son was born,’ Ishtaer panted, and Kael gave the wheel one last turn, popping the bones into place.

Ishtaer’s breath whooshed out of her in one huge gasp.

‘I had to be there,’ Kael said slowly, feeling at the break again. ‘His real father couldn’t.’

‘You don’t,’ she drew in a shaky breath, ‘have to lie to me. Healer, remember?’

Kael’s fingers went still.

‘Durran is your son. And Garik isn’t. Not biologically. You let Eirenn and me think it was the other way around.’ Ishtaer made her fingers move. ‘Good. That’s good.’

‘Good?’

‘There’s very little nerve damage. Do you have a dressing for this wound, before the splint goes on?’

She heard him draw in a breath as if he was about to speak, then he let it out and muttered, ‘Of course.’

He was silent as he prepared the dressing, and Ishtaer felt the memory tugging at her again. ‘Keep talking.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Say, “Ishtaer, I’m going to talk about anything to distract you from the memories of the last time you woke up in darkness with a broken bone, because even though you’re holding on really tight to the present and the knowledge it’ll be all right, I can see you’re slipping back into a terrible place,” and I need—I need—’

‘All right, all right.’ His fingers curled around hers. ‘I’m here. I’ll help. I—what do you want to know? About Durran?’

She concentrated hard on breathing, on the feel of his hand on hers. ‘No one else knows he’s your son?’

‘It didn’t seem right or fair to Hasse. Mags’s husband. They were childhood sweethearts. Hasse and I grew up together, like brothers. Mags was a sister to me. But they couldn’t have children. I don’t know why. Karnos did, but he never said.’

‘So you … what? Offered your services?’

‘No!’ He pressed the bandage a little too hard against her arm and she flinched. ‘Sorry. But no, it wasn’t like that. It was after Hasse died. A rockfall, I think I told you. I was about your age. Mags was … she was just destroyed. She loved Hasse more than anything. And I did too. We tried to comfort each other. Had too much to drink. It …’ His hands stilled in the act of placing the splints. ‘It was an act of desperation, I think, for both of us. And when she found she was pregnant, only she and I knew the real truth. Everyone assumed it had happened just before Hasse died, and talked about how tragic it was. I couldn’t dishonour my best friend like that. Or Mags. So we just agreed to … let people think what they thought. Hasse and I have – had – similar colouring. Everyone says Durran looks like his father.’

‘And when he grows up, and looks like you?’

Kael sighed. ‘I don’t know. Maybe we’ll tell him. I don’t know.’

Ishtaer adjusted one of the splints, and nodded to him to start binding her arm.

‘And Garik?’

‘Hah. Garik I was never sure about, until now. Are you sure?’

‘There’s nothing of you in him. Durran, I can feel your blood in him.’

‘That’s a little creepy, Ishtaer.’

‘Sorry. But … did you know he wasn’t yours?’

‘If he was, he was born very early and rather large for a premature baby.’ Kael sighed. ‘Ilse seduced me with rather alarming impatience. When she told me she was pregnant I had no choice but to take care of her. But I was never quite sure …’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Aye, well. I ended up with Garik, and I’d never deny him. Even after all that happened to Ilse.’

‘Do you think it was very terrible?’

Kael was silent a moment, then he said, ‘Terrible enough that the day after the birth she walked down to the shore and into the water and never came back.’

Shock ran through her. ‘I thought she died in the birth?’

‘I think she wished she had.’

Ishtaer felt hollow. ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘So long as you don’t say anything to anyone else. Whoever Garik’s biological father is, I don’t think he was a very nice guy. Ilse was running from something, and my bet is a man.’

‘Mags said the same thing. She said I look like I’m running, too.’

‘You do. But you’re not running as fast, these days.’

Ishtaer didn’t know what to say to that. Kael finished binding her arm and carefully released it from the traction device. ‘How does that feel?’

She flexed her fingers cautiously. ‘Good. Fine. Well, not fine – but better. I mean it won’t get any worse overnight, and I can heal it properly when I’m feeling … better.’

He ruffled her hair affectionately. ‘You should eat something. Mags said she sent Eirenn with something … Oh yes, there it is. I’ll heat up the soup for you.’

She nodded mechanically and stood up, pushing the chair towards the table and sitting back down again. She was tired, but she was functioning, and she’d stayed in the present, in this clean warm room with a good man who was taking care of her—

A good man? Where had that thought come from? He was Krull the Swiving Warlord, he was famous for …

… for a lot of things she’d never actually experienced him doing. Showboating seemed to be the worst she could lay against him. Pretending to be wicked. Krull the Warlord would never spend half the night bringing a catatonic girl back into the real world. Kaelnar Vapensigsson, it appeared, would.

‘You eat that while I go and sort your bed out,’ he said. ‘The fire’s not lit, and you need to stay warm. Do you have a warming pan?’

She did, although she’d never used it. Now would not be the time to tell Kael she’d still never got up the courage to sleep in her bed.

But when she’d finished eating and tiredness made her shiver, Kael said, ‘Right, no arguments, I’m staying in your bed tonight. You need me to keep you warm.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ she protested, getting to her feet.

‘Yeah, you said that earlier and I found you slowly turning to ice.’ He pulled her against his body, his strong, hard, warm body, and for the first time Ishtaer could remember, she wasn’t frightened. He wasn’t going to hurt her, or force her, or do anything but hold her, as if he cared for her and wanted to keep her safe.

It was very seductive. But Ishtaer had listened to Samara promising to keep her safe, usually shortly before beating her half to death.

The memory slithered up around her again, cold and dark.