Page 23 of Challenged

“Well,” I say, itching at my arm. “I have some hard running to do in the morning, so perhaps it is best if I take the next watch so I might sleep undisturbed afterwards.”

Shemza nods. “I will take the watch after yours, then. Perhaps Maldek will take the dawn watch, given that he has retired to his bed so early.”

“I think we both know that very little sleeping has happened,” I say, grinning.

Shemza’s eyes glitter with mirth. “Disturbing them to let Maldek know of his watch is probably too much to ask, even of a blood brother.”

“Perhaps Gregar, then.”

“A more sensible choice, I think.”

I grin. Shemza’s sense of humour is not as obvious as mine or Maldek’s, but there is a wicked streak to him that he keeps well hidden behind his healer’s calm and kindness. Right now, his expression barely shifts, but the sparkle in his eyes intensifies and the very corner of his mouth twitches. It is enough to let me know he is greatly amused at Maldek’s expense.

“I will go speak with him now, before he goes to bed and becomes undisturbable,” I say.

But as I turn to leave, Shemza grabs me by the arm.

“What is wrong with your hands?” he says. “You have been scratching at them all evening.”

He draws me close to the light of the fire, gesturing for me to turn my hands over. It is not as good as daylight, but we do not need it to be. It is obvious from first glance that my skin is raw and irritated. I examine my hands closer, see traces of the slime from earlier lingering on my skin.

“What is that?” Shemza asks.

“Rot,” I say. I try to brush it away on my clothes, but it is stuck tight.

“Rot?” Shemza’s expression is mild, but I can sense the concern even before he glances over his shoulder at Lorna.

I give him a brief summary, including Anghar’s stumble and the rotten roots. Shemza listens, then examines me again, looking at my hands closely but not touching them.

“Your skin is irritated, but it does not look awful. No worse than an encounter with itching vine, anyway. It is just strange that rotten roots have caused this strength of reaction.”

“You do not think that whatever infects the trees could infect me also?” I ask. My tone is light, but I feel a shiver of fear travel up my spine. Any hint of a new sickness is enough to rattle a raskarran’s spirits. After the deadly sickness that took so many of us seventeen, nearly eighteen seasons ago, a second deadly sickness is our worst fear.

“I have never heard of a blight in trees that could pass to a raskarran,” Shemza says, his tone dry enough to dispel any worry I have. “There is a poultice I can make which may ease the irritation. A little djenti berry tonic will hopefully see the worst of it healed overnight.”

I go to grip his shoulder in thanks, but stop myself before I touch him.

“Ah,” I say. “I think it would be prudent to wash.”

“It was going to be my other healer’s recommendation.” A brief smirk flits over Shemza’s lips. “Wash thoroughly, then come to me after.”

I turn to the trees, intending to hike out to the stream nearby. A bitingly cold piece of water. I do not relish the thought of washing in it. But before I can take a step, Lorna’s voice halts me.

“Rardek, use theshowers,” she says.

I turn to see her gesturing to the Mercenia hut.

“The hot watermachinesnear thepodroom?”

“Warm,” she says. “Better. Closer.”

The females use them all the time. I know my brother has used them also, but as he was with his linasha at the time, I have not asked questions about it.

“How do they work?”

“Push,” Lorna says, gesturing at something a little higher than her stomach. “Water come. Easy.”

“The sooner you are clean, the sooner the itching will stop,” Shemza says.

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