The Ember Thief

Chapter Eleven - Wet Hooves

'Argh!'

'Don't be so dramatic,' the old apothekerin scolded, pushing more gauze to Ser Barros' bleeding nose.

'My face is going to be black-and-blue for days, isn't it?' the big man mumbled, through the fabric.

The apothekerin was a tall, heavy-set woman dressed in white linen. 'You're lucky you even have a head left on your shoulders with a kick to the face.'

Roma was laying on the other bed opposite Barros. 'Be grateful you can't feel below your chest at the moment,' Roma shouted, rubbing his waist. 'My ears are still ringing, and my left leg hasn't come back to life yet.'

'The paralysis from your bone vial will wear off soon, and you boys need to be more patient,' she said, wiping dried blood on her pinafore.

Roma flexed his singed leg and winced as he peeked under the bandage. 'Is it meant to sting this much?'

The apothekerin stomped over and rapped him on the head with the end of a surgical knife. 'Don't mess with that!' the woman barked. 'Burns need to be kept clean.'

'Ow! Sorry,' Roma said, rubbing his head.

'You will be if you lose your leg with infection,' she said, reprimanding the sweeper.

Ser Barros rolled his head to the side. 'Could you speed the healing up? There are a couple of ladies that are eagerly awaiting my return at home, and I need to look my best if you know what I mean.'

'No physical activity for a month,' she wagged a finger at his nose.

'I think the boot-print of Prince Volk on your face makes you looked more rugged,' Roma smirked.

Ser Barros went to give Roma a rude gesture, but his arm just flopped over the edge of the bed. 'Would you mind extending one of my fingers please?' he asked the apothekerin, nodding at his hand.

'Behave yourself.' The large woman just tossed his limp arm back on the bed. 'The both of you,' she snapped, giving a stern look to both men. 'You Chimeras might be gods out there, but in here, I'm in charge.'

A painted aide glided into the recovery chambers wearing the finest blue silks. 'By permission of Lady Renn, Raide of house Asher to see the Duchess of Wessfell,' she announced dutifully.

'Eh? House Asher doesn't have anyone called Raide,' Ser Barros shouted up from his bed. 'In fact, they don't have hardly anyone left,' he said, roaring with laughter.

'You could say I'm more of a guest,' Raide responded, following in behind the emissary.

Ser Barros tilted his head back, studying the man who just walked in. 'Well, Asher needs all the help they can get these days. How's Bawbee? Is he still chasing that barmaid from the docks here?'

'He is,' Raide said, rolling his eyes.

'How far is he getting?'

'Not very.'

Ser Barros let out another burst of laughter. 'Well, you tell him, if he wants any tips he can speak to me,' the big man bellowed.

Roma eyed Raide suspiciously. 'It's unusual for another house to be allowed back here at this time. What do you want?'

The hairs on Raide's arm suddenly stood up.

'He's here to speak to me apparently,' Charm's voice drifted from behind a door, at the far end of the room, before Raide could answer.

'Lady Renn gave me permission to talk to you in private, Duchess,' Raide shouted back as he approached the closed door.

'How intriguing,' she pondered. 'You had better come in then.'