“Good news and bad news,” the healer said after a little throat clearing. He finished tying off the bandages and stood. “Which do you want first?”
“Good, obviously,” Kajja said without hesitation.
“Good news is, the bone is still clean.”
Dagan took a deep breath and Kajja’s hand.
“Bad news is, it might not stay that way. Blood is infected; the skin around the break is hot and mottled. He might fight it off on his own, but probably not.”
“You mean to take the leg,” Kajja said, going a little gray at the lips. “If he can’t.”
“Yes. But just below the knee. Thankfully, that seems to be intact now the swelling has started to abate. Slightly. That’ll make things easier on him.”
“It’s dangerous, though,” Kajja said, lip quivering. It wasn’t even a question, really. She knew. “Traumatic. He could die of blood loss. Or another infection.”
The healer nodded. “But he will certainly die of infection if we don’t do it. The lower leg won’t hold weight ever again, regardless.”
“Can it safely wait a day or two?” Dagan asked.
“I think we should. Just keep an eye on it. If you see signs of further infection, send someone for me immediately.” A slight pause. “May I ask why? Did he request it?”
Dagan shook his head. “The healers from the Heart Wood will bring some anti-infection herbs you don’t have here. It’ll help his chances. I have a little with me, but not enough to be useful for something…that big.”
The healer frowned. “If that’s what he wants. I can wait to speak to him myself.”
Dagan smiled. Healer’s pride was as powerful a thing in the City as it was in the Wood, it seemed. “If you have time, of course you can. Can I get you tea? Kajja, want some?”
Kajja shook her head.
The healer said, “Uh, no, thank you. What is tea, again?”
“I’ll make you some.” That would be the best explanation. Hot leaf broth just didn’t sound as good as it tasted.
“What a little homemaker you could be, Dags,” Kajja joked.
“That’s his job.” Dagan pointed at Hendrik, then fixed his gaze on the healer. “I promised him we would be happy after this.” He has to make it through. He has to.
No more despair. They’d always been about hope. They always would be. Especially now that Dagan knew just how fucking awful despair could be.
*
“He looks like shit,” Piret said bluntly.
Dagan looked up from his book. “He’s had a hard couple of days. You should be here beside him. In bed.”
She looked, not to put too fine a point on it, like shit too. One of her arms was in a sling, and half of her face was bruised a virulent purple. Who knew what hurts he couldn’t see. She snorted and came into the room fully, followed by a taller man and a short, slight woman. At first, Dagan didn’t recognize them, but then he caught the man’s gaze, bright, lightning blue.
It was like looking at Hen in 30 years; Kajja had not been kidding. Dagan set aside his book and stood quickly, placing a hand over his heart in formal greeting.
“This is Konstantin and Alara,” Piret said, clapping him on the shoulder as she approached.
He covered her hand with his briefly. “Thank you.”
“This is Dagan, Hendrik’s…uh…” She shot him a look. “Companion. But like, in a love-way.”
Dagan laughed out loud at that. Konstantin came toward him with a hand out, so he remembered himself and shook just in time. “Dagan of the—of the Heart Wood.” Black Walnut Grove would mean nothing to them. How strange, this collision of worlds, of people who should never have met but for terrible fate.
“A pleasure, Dagan. We understand you saved Hendrik’s life out there in the forest.” Kon pressed his hand tight even after they shook. He had large hands, like Hendrik but softer, the skin more delicate.
“He was doing fine on his own, but I did bring him back to humanity.” Dagan smiled.
“I really thought he must’ve been made a priest guard. Or an assassin.” Alara’s gaze was fixed to the pale figure in the bed even as she held out her hand to Dagan.
He took it and led her to the bedside. “He hoped you’d think that, if it’s any comfort.”
She glanced at him briefly, then almost did a double-take. “My, you’re handsome.”
He realized, with a surge of affection, that she hadn’t spared him even a look until then. “So is your son,” he replied as smoothly as possible through a throat gone tight.
“How is he?” Kon asked, following them to the bed.
“Infection’s setting in. He’s trying to fight it, but…” Dagan shook his head. Had his eyes ever not burned? At least he wasn’t crying all the time, anymore.
Alara hovered over Hendrik, wringing her hands and shifting her weight from foot to foot as if longing for something to do for him. Dagan knew the feeling. Intimately.
“You’ve been here the whole time?” Konstantin asked.
Dagan nodded.
