Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 30i

Doctor Fos had not insisted. She had simply shrugged, put the cup down, and picked up a cloth from a bowl of some other bitter medicine, then proceeded to clean his bloodied wounds. The pain had been unimaginable; like needles being pushed deep into his skin, but he'd clenched his fists and closed his eyes, determined not to let his agony show.

"Stop fidgeting!" Doctor Fos had snapped.

Grifford had opened his eyes and glared at her.

"Have you done?"

"Soon."

She had then taken a thick white cloth, folded it into a tight square, and pressed it over the wound above his eye. The needle-like pain had returned, and the medicinal smell with it. Doctor Fos had bandaged the cloth tightly in place.

"Now I have done. Go and wait in the gardens and send your friend in."

"He is not my friend," Grifford had replied.

"Send him in anyway."

Grifford had done as he had been asked and now he sat in silence, brooding on the emotive turns that the day had made. First there had been his joy at witnessing Tasker's defeat at the riding-grounds, followed by the strange excitement as he had followed him from the pavilion. Then came the indecision as he had stood in the darkness beneath the stands and watched as Tasker began his merciless beating of the captured Field-hand. His uncertainty had been followed by anger at the unwelcome feeling that made him hesitate, but then the indecisiveness had been replaced with anticipation as he crept up on Gefry's turned back, his fists clenched and ready to strike. Then all other thought had fled him as he grabbed the young squire's shoulder and spun him round before landing the first blow.

The exhilaration of the rescue, and his rage during the fight with Tasker, had gone now, replaced instead with both shame and anger at his defeat. He stared across the Infirmary cloister at the closed door of one of its side rooms, which had scented narcali growing around its window. Unconsciously, he raised his hand to the front of his tunic and pressed his fingers against the smooth curved shape of the demon tooth pendant lying beneath. What would his grandfather have said concerning his actions that evening? Especially given that they had been carried out in the rescue of a common Field-hand.

Buried in his thoughts, he barely noticed the quick footsteps from the corridor leading to the cloister, and only broke from his brooding reverie when Tahlia burst into the garden.

"Grifford!"

He turned his beaten face to her, and saw her eyes widen and her hands fly to her cheeks.

"Look at the state of you!"

"It is not so bad!" said Grifford through thick lips. "Do not make such a fuss."

But he guessed from the look on his sister's face that his injuries must have looked as bad as they felt.

"What happened?" she asked as she scrambled onto a chair across from him.

"I followed your stupid advice. That is what happened!"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw Tasker slipping off during the feast, so I followed him like a fool. He was not doing anything. Only looking to get even with that ruteia of a Field-hand."

"Well you did not have to join in! That was not very clever."

"I had no choice."

Tahlia threw her arms in the air and fell back into the chair. Grifford returned to his silence and went back to staring into the darkness of the garden.