Blaze of Silver by K. M. Grant Read Free Book Online

the cure.”
    â€œBut he is dying,” cried Will. “Look at him.”
    â€œI’m just telling you what Amal said.”
    Will bowed his head. Amal patted his arm. “Please to allow?” he said with one of his little bows.
    The butcher surgeon began to protest for he was mindful of his fee. “Now look here,” he said, brandishing the spike, “we do things our own way here. English people are not like these foreigners and foreign medicine is no good for us. You’ll be agreeing with me, Old Nurse.”
    But although Old Nurse wanted to agree, she was unsure. Now that she could see the spike and could see also how small Elric looked compared to the surgeon’sgreat ham hands, her previous certainty deserted her. Yet if she looked with distaste at the surgeon, she looked with more distaste at Amal. What could an emaciated stick like him know? Nevertheless, in obedience to Will and encouraged by Ellie, she let the old man through.
    Amal stroked Elric’s face with bony fingers. Immediately, the boy began to jibber. “Unscrew this,” he ordered, and Marie willingly loosened the head brace. She looked at Amal with hope. When the brace was off, he produced several folded papers. “Get warm water,” he said to Kamil, still smiling apologetically as if he were being a nuisance, “and small bowls with stirrers. Draw back the hangings from the the windows. The boy needs air. And get cushions. He needs to sit up. Later I will need a big bath, something we can lower him into.”
    Kamil repeated the instructions and even before he had finished, Marie was running to the kitchens. The surgeon stood at the end of the bed, glowering, his arms crossed. He was not going to leave. They would need him yet. Humming to himself, Amal hopped around the bed and indicated to Ellie that she should strip off Elric’s blankets in favor of a thin sheet as he set out his folded papers on the window ledge. He avoided the surgeon as he might an immovable tree, brushing past him, always careful not to push. The surgeon wanted to swat him like a wasp.
    At last, when all was to Amal’s satisfaction, he tipped his colored powders into the bowls. Strange and exotic smells drifted out, of turmeric, ginseng, and cinnamon. Ellie watched, taking everything in, but Old Nurse just sniffed, then sneezed, nearly blowing thepowder away. Amal frowned and muttered. He wanted Old Nurse out.
    Kamil saw at once. Amal’s air of authority impressed him. The man did know what he was doing. He would help him. “Old Nurse, Amal asks what you would normally put on broken bones,” he said pleasantly.
    Old Nurse was surly. “I sometimes make a paste of comfrey.”
    â€œGo and make it now. He thinks it best if you treat Elric’s legs,” Kamil told her. Old Nurse snorted but she went on her way. Amal and Kamil exchanged glances before Amal turned back to his bowls and told Ellie to prop Elric up. Soon, Amal was expertly pouring liquid down the boy’s throat. Occasionally Elric choked but Amal never wavered. He had done this often to injured Assassins. Every so often he met Kamil’s eye again, consciously strengthening the bond between them. When the liquid had disappeared, Amal carefully dabbed his lotion onto Elric’s heart, neck, and wrists. “To calm the pulse,” he explained, glad to see everybody hanging on his words.
    Before long Old Nurse reappeared and spread thick, sweet-smelling paste gently onto Elric’s shins and covered them with a damp cloth. Amal watched her politely. When she had finished, he settled himself onto a small stool. “Now,” he said, “we wait.” The butcher surgeon narrowed his eyes and spread his legs a little wider. He still held his spike and made a point of testing the sharpness of its tip.
    For at least an hour, Elric seemed no better and despite themselves the watchers grew weary. Kamil fiddled endlessly with