Lady of the Star Wind by Veronica Scott

awakened. She probably hadn’t meant for him to ask them all at once, but being a nursemaid wasn’t in his skill set.
    “One finger. And no, my head doesn’t hurt, which is a miracle, since the cursed dog of a Maiskhan must have struck me with his sword. I forgot what else you asked.” The captain stared at Mark, his brow furrowed. Then his expression cleared, and his eyes opened wide. “I remember now. You came out of nowhere, out of the mountain, shooting magic arrows of death.” He struggled to sit. “Tia! Where is she?”
    Mark pressed him against the pillow. “She’s safe, asleep in a room across the hall.”
    Closing his eyes as if the dim light bothered him, Rothan asked, “How many survived?”
    “Tia, Djed, and three of your archers. Sorry, I don’t know their names.” Mark waved his key at the proper panel on the wall to dim the lights further.
    “The horses?”
    “We’ve taken good care of them, don’t worry. I acquired a few extra mounts when we were cleaning up after the battle. Unhitched them from an abandoned chariot, one of the—the Maiskhan, you call them?”
    Expression sour, as if the name itself brought a bad taste, the other man nodded. “Then all is not yet quite lost, if we’re together and if we retain the means to reach the Lost City. There’s so little time.” He moved his head on the pillow.
    “From the condition of your horses, you’ve been pushing them hard. How many days have you been traveling?”
    “Seven days, with yet another three or four to go, if this is the mountain pass into the Empty Lands. And then we must get home to Nakhtiaar.”
    “Yeah, Tia said something about a deadline to us at dinner. She wasn’t too forthcoming about the details.”
    “Your accent makes my head ache,” said Rothan, distaste in his tone, opening his eyes to study Mark’s face in the gloom. “Who are you?”
    Grateful Lajollae had dropped them on a world where a readymade identity was available to adopt, Mark said, “I’m the warrior who guards the Lady of the Star Wind. She and I’ve come to this world for now.”
    “A good omen, to have the Star Wind at our backs in this time of crisis.” The injured man sank against his pillow as if all mysteries were now explained to his satisfaction. “Is there any more water?” Fading fast, Rothan had a hard time keeping his eyes open, but seemed determined to pursue the issue of his quest to the lost city. “We must journey onward in the morning.”
    Mark shoved the cork into the waterskin. “I doubt if Sandy—the Lady—will let you leave the bed, much less agree to you riding in a chariot over rough ground.”
    “But I’ve told you, the time grows short. We can’t forfeit a day, not an hour of a day. I’d drive at night under the moons as well, if the horses didn’t require rest.”
    For the second time, Mark pushed him onto the makeshift pillows. “It won’t do your cause any good if you die of a cerebral hemorrhage brought on by impatience.”
    “Die of a what?”
    Not finding a word in High Chetal to fit the medical condition he wanted to describe, Mark hedged. “We’ll see how you’re doing in the morning, okay? I promise, word of an officer, we’ll leave the moment my Lady gives you the medical clearance.”
    “In the morning,” the other man insisted drowsily.
    “We’ll see.” Mark was relieved to be done arguing for now as Rothan slipped into sleep.

    A few hours later, the women walked into the chamber together, both anxious to see how Rothan fared. Mark stood, stretching, and moved aside for Sandy to examine the patient, who snored off and on.
    “Did he regain consciousness at all?” She ran a rapid scan with one of her instruments.
    “We had a regular gabfest in the middle of the night,” Mark said. “And water was all I let him have.” He anticipated her next question. “Rothan wants to travel today.”
    “It might be possible, I think. His head wound appears ugly enough on the surface, but