Page 149 of Planet Zero
Addie ambled to where Qalae stood over Chief Net’ok.
The chief was nursing a dislocated shoulder and a rip to his thigh. He’d already slammed the shoulder in place, but the thigh continued to bleed, and he was having a hard time staunching the flow. Qalae hovered nearby, a chunk of moss clutched in her hand, a picture of wifely duty. Net’ok pointedly ignored her.
Addie lowered down next to him.
“Let me see.”
He glared, but she was through being intimidated.
“Let me see,” she repeated and took the moss from Qalae’s hands. “If you lose too much blood, you can die. Or your wound will get infected. You need to get well quickly, Net’ok. You’re still the chief.”
“What do you know about our customs?” He sneered.
“More than you realize, chief, more than you realize.”
He sighed with resignation and moved his hand away, letting Addie take a look. Of course, the skin required stitching, and she was fresh out of needles and thread. Instructing Qalae to find the herbs with healing properties, Addie settled for pressing a moss pad to the wound and wrapping it tightly. It would have to do.
Before she left Net’ok’s side, a thought occurred to her. “Where’s the High Counselor?”
Net’ok motioned behind him.
At the base of a small hill, Vuskas cradled the High Counselor’s upper body. Chemmusaayl’s yellow robe was now a rusty brown from the blood that soaked it. He appeared unconscious and was missing an arm.
“Oh, God, why didn’t you let me know sooner?” Addie rushed, as much as she could rush in her exhausted state, to his side.
“Don’t touch him, strange woman,” Vuskas cautioned. “He doesn't need it, and he wouldn't like it. He will be put to death when Ehr rises, after our people rest so they can see him go with honors.”
“Why?” She frantically worked to get Chemmusaayl’s vitals. His pulse was faint but steady, his breathing shallow but even. But he was still in shock and losing blood fast. At this rate, he won’t live long enough to be sent off with honors. “He can function with one arm.”
Vuskas shook his head gravely. “No one will want to live with one arm.”
Addie gave up reasoning with these people. “Get me a stick and your belt. And if Chemmusaayl chooses to die tomorrow, I want him to tell you this himself.”
Vuskas was looking at her intently. “You hate Chemmusaayl, Addie-woman. Are you trying to prolong his life so you can laugh at him, one-armed?”
Addie glanced up. “No, Vuskas.”
He dropped his gaze as if reprimanded. Slowly, he reached for his belt and untied it.
“Now, help me hold his shoulder.”
It was a busy night. People, suspicious of her craft, nevertheless allowed her to treat the injuries that brought the most pain. Alas, the pain was something Addie had little to offer for. Hers and Chele’s shared herbs that could have offered relief were buried back at the decimated settlement.
Qalae, with Melmie’s help and under Addie’s instruction, gathered the bare basics to prevent the worst of the infection, and it was all Addie could deliver.
Zoark found her kneeling by one of Mekni’s little boys who was crying forlornly at Oma’s side. It was the end of the night, and she was so tired she couldn't even see straight.
“I think he’s just hungry, Addie,” Oma was telling her. “And he wants Mekni. I’m going to keep him for the night.”
Zoark leaned down and scooped Addie up into his arm.
“You’ve exhausted yourself. You need to rest.”
“But I need to…”
He shushed her. “I know what you're trying to do, Addie. You’re trying to fix this. You’re trying to make them whole.”
Maybe she was. “Is it wrong?”
