The Hermetica of Elysium (Elysium Texts Series) by Annmarie Banks Page A

contacts,” he said to Lord Montrose. “Please come find me in the hall when you are finished.” To Nadira he said, “I am sure you will do an excellent job. Take anything you need.” Then he was gone as well.
    Sarah returned to the room carrying a heavy bucket of water in one hand and linens over her other arm. Nadira moved quickly to help her with the bucket.
    “Sarah, here, bring the linens to the bed and light another lamp.” Sarah obeyed quickly, getting a straw from one of the pallets and using it to light one lamp from the other.
    “I want the girl out,” Montrose said in a low voice. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Marcus.
    Nadira turned to him in surprise. “You are in quite a temper, my lord. I can use her help…”
    “Go,” he said to Sarah, then turned his face to the wall. Trembling, Sarah hung the second lamp near the foot of the bed and slipped out without a sound. Montrose spoke without turning his head.
    “Did you get your needle?”
    “No, and you sent Sarah away.” Nadira didn’t try to hide her annoyance.
    He didn’t seem to notice. “Have you done this before?”
    “Do you mean sew a man’s flesh like I’d darn a sock?”
    Montrose glared at her. “Yes.”
    “No.” Nadira said truthfully,“ I have not.” She felt her insides swirl at the look on his face. She finished feebly, “…but I have seen it done.” He turned away from her again with a deep sigh.
    Nadira took that as resignation if not direct permission. “I’m going to look at it, now,” she warned him. She lifted his tunic and bent down. Her makeshift bandage had been removed when he washed. The wound lay opened now, gaping over his ribs but not bleeding heavily. The gash oozed from the bottom, and glistened pink and red in the lamplight. Part of a white rib showed through the flesh. Nadira swallowed; glad she had not yet touched her breakfast. “This must be very painful.” She murmured.
    He lowered his eyes. “Just sew it.”
    “It will need a poultice as well. I assume your friend Beniste has a garden?”
    He shook his head slowly. “That I do not know. However, if you can, make sure to bring me a great deal of wine.”
    Nadira peered closer to his side; she touched the lips of the wound to test their depth. Montrose sucked in his breath sharply.
    She said, “I will go below to get the makings for the poultice and a needle and thread. Are you dear enough to your friend to get fine silk for this?”
    He groaned. “Probably. Don’t forget the wine.”
    The materials for the sick room were easily found. Beniste didhave a fine garden. Nadira picked what she could. There had not yet been a killing frost in the valley, so the plants were still tall and strong. Nadira inhaled their green scent, hoping for comfrey and boneset. Yes. She had what she needed.
    A needle and silk were already in her pocket and she carried a tray of bowls and herbs as well as some soap wrapped in a coarse cloth which Sarah handed to her as she passed the kitchen. Nadira paused before the door, propping the tray on her hip. Perhaps I will surprise myself . She leaned her shoulder into the heavy door.
    Montrose had removed his tunic and was sitting on the bed, hands on his knees. He was staring up at the low ceiling and did not meet her eyes as she placed the tray on the table. He reached for the leather wine jug with his left hand as soon as it touched the table.
    “Don’t you want a cup?” She asked. Instead of answering, he lifted the jug to his mouth and drank deeply. He clearly intended to down the entire contents before she started. Nadira laid out her tools on the tray. When the jug was empty, Montrose leaned his left shoulder against the wall with another sigh.
    In one bowl, Nadira stuffed the wide comfrey and the boneset leaves, pouring the hot water from the kettle over them and watching as they wilted. The acrid smell of the boneset rose with the steam. Montrose turned to her sharply.
    “What in God’s