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"Then go talk with the wizard. I'll wait here. I won't tend their wounds
unless something goes wrong."
"I'll hurry," she said.
He gave an abrupt nod, almost a bow, and ducked back inside the tent. Elaine
stood there for a moment in the rattling wind. Konrad had asked her opinion
twice in one day. It was not only a record, it was a nine days' wonder. What
was wrong with him?
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THIRTEEN
Gersalius's tent was smaller than the rest, with strange curlicues of carved
wood mounted above the entrance. Elaine hadn't really inspected the wizard's
tent closely. Now she looked at the wooden carvings. They were attached to the
tent itself, not tied on. It was almost as if the wood grew straight out of
the hide. She could make nothing of the carvings themselves. They were of no
animal or image she was familiar with, just designs of wood and paint.
Elaine called, "Gersalius, it's me, Elaine. I need to speak with you."
The wind gusted, making the tent strain and pull at the tiny tent stakes. The
wood carvings swayed in the wind as if they were antlers on some live beast.
"Gersalius?" Elaine called. She waited in the cold, huddled against the wind.
"Gersalius, please, if you're in there, answer me."
When there was still no answer, she turned and walked back to the fire. Blaine
was cooking the camp dinner sausages in a skillet over the flames. They
actually smelled good. Of course, even Blaine couldn't do a lot of damage
reheating sausages. It was almost foolproof.
There was a smaller saucepan sitting to one side. Blaine stirred it with a
wooden spoon. An odor rose from the saucepan and caught the back of her throat
with a bitter taste. Before she could say a word, Biaine poured the foul sauce
over the lovely sausages. He put a lid over the skillet and set it to one
side.
He'd probably say he was letting it simmer. Biaine was the worst cook in the
world, but he had pretensions of being a gourmet. His 'improvements,'
experiments with herbs, were legendary.
He smiled up at her, pleased with himself. "I'm trying a new sauce tonight.
Want a whiff?"
"I already smelled it," she said, a brave smile in place. Biaine was not only
the worst cook in the world, he was oblivious to the deficiency. No matter how
much Thordin and the others complained, Biaine never quite believed them. He
went on his cheerful way, crumbling dried herbs, chopping roots, and trying to
poison them all.
"Have you seen Gersalius?"
"I think he's in Thordin's tent." He turned back to an earthenware bowl on the
ground by his knee. A
cloth was tied over it. He cut the string, lifting the cloth to reveal a
grayish mass. "I made stuffing before we left. All I have to do is heat it."
"Did Mala help you make it?" she asked hopefully.
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He grinned. "Of course not. You know I like to do all my own cooking."
"Of course," she said. She left him to ruin their dinner and went in search of
Thordin's tent. He shared it with Konrad, so it was big enough to accommodate
a visitor.
The wind died down as suddenly as it had sprung up. In the fresh silence,
Elaine heard the murmur of the
men's voices, a soft, rumbling sound that was somehow comforting. Elaine had
spent a great deal of her life listening to that strong, bluff, blunt sound.
She bent over, calling, "Gersalius, are you in there?"
The tent flap swung open. Thordin's face and arm popped out. "Elaine, come
join us. I think if we all squeeze there may be room."
It occurred to her for the first time that Thordin had seen clerics work their
healing magic. He might know something valuable, too. She crawled into the
tent, tugging her heavy cloak through the small opening.
Gersalius was sitting on a pile of bedding, smiling. He had a mug in his
hands. "Elaine, what brings you in search of me?"
Thordin offered her a mug.
"Surely that is yours," she said.
"Yes, but I can get another." With a smile, he handed her the mug.
"Thank you." The mug was wonderfully hot to her hands. Steam rose from the cup
like sweet-smelling ghosts. The tea was a strong spearmint faintly touched
with sugar. Breathing in the steam was almost as refreshing as drinking the
tea itself.
"How goes it with the wounded?" Thordin asked.
"That is why I have come," Elaine said.
Thordin poured a third mug of tea from a small earthware pot, then set it back
on its warmer. He took a pinch of sugar from a small pouch at his belt, added
the sugar to the tea, then stirred it with a small silver spoon.
"With a few comforts, any place can be home," Gersalius said.
"My sentiments, exactly," Thordin said.
"Why were you seeking me, Elaine?" the wizard asked.
"Konrad and I have never seen magical healing before. We aren't sure what to
do."
"A cleric heals by laying on of hands. The wound just closes up and is
healed," Gersalius said.
"Completely healed?" She made it a question.
"Yes," he said.
She shook her head. "But these injuries aren't completely healed."
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