Free Longeye by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page B

stuffed with old leaves and it seemed as if his blood moved sluggish in sediment-clogged veins.
    Still, he went on, drinking from the water skin Elizabeth Moore had insisted he carry, and which he had thought a slight against his skills as a Ranger.
    Now, it would seem that the lady knew more than she had said, for he dared not stop, at all, in this leaden, unnatural place—and certainly he could not dare to drink, though he passed a stream that seemed to run fresh enough, and a pool so clear he could see the pebbles resting beneath the still water's surface.
    He shivered, trying to think—to think of the calamity that could have caused this, for here was not merely an elder wood in the final segments of its life. No, there was something else at play here; something he could not name, and horrifying, which nonetheless tantalized and teased his feeble kest , and it seemed to him that there were Newmen—no! There was Michael himself with his clever blade, and seductive aura, half-tucked behind a drooping pine, smiling a promise of pain and desire . . .
    "You are false! A dream conjured of shadow and dust!" His voice was louder than he had intended, sounding curiously flat on the dead air. Michael's phantom shattered, becoming merely a random pattern of leaves and branches.
    Meri raised the water skin and took a meager mouthful. When the flask was resealed and hung back in its place, he called out again.
    "I am Meripen Vanglelauf, Ranger and Wood Wise, here at the service of the trees!"
    There was no answer.
    Meri walked on.
     
    "Well, I can't treat it if you won't let me see it," Becca said tartly.
    Wounded hand still tucked close under its arm, the Brethren stared at her. Its eyes were dark yellow, ringed with black, not quite the eyes of a beast—and not quite the eyes of a man—framed by black lashes as stiff and bristly as a scrub brush.
    It closed first one eye, then the other, and turned its face away. Slowly, the wounded hand crept from its hiding place, until it was out, curled in on itself, the bloody back half-extended to Becca.
    She sighed in relief.
    "Thank you. I will be as gentle as I may be, but I do have to examine it, and it may hurt you. Please do not think that I am attacking you, or willfully causing you pain."
    Her patient made no answer. Indeed, Becca thought, as she leaned to examine the offered appendage, she had no reason to believe that it could speak.
    The hand was gory, blood gluing the plentiful coarse hairs together. There was no evidence of crushing, however, and it showed a full complement of four fingers and thumb, each capped with a horny nail.
    Becca lifted her canteen and poured water over the wounded member. Blood and mud sluiced away, showing two long cuts in parallel, shallow toward the knuckle and deeper toward the wrist. Both began bleeding again, but slowly. She put the canteen aside and leaned forward.
    "I am going to touch you," she told her patient, and did so, probing along the cuts. The Brethren shuddered, and she froze, but it made no other move. Letting her breath out quietly, she turned the hand over to inspect the leathery brown palm.
    "There does not appear to be anything lodged in either cut," she said, turning the hand back over and lowering it slowly until the palm rested on her knee. "And they are already starting to crust over. This is excellent. However, you would not want your hand to become infected. I am therefore going to put fremoni salve on it and wrap it with a clean cloth." She considered the creature's profile, its hair wild and tangled around its ears.
    "Nancy," she said, turning to look for her maid, who was hovering at shoulder height. "Please bring me the white pot."
    The little creature flitted to the various vials and pots Becca had asked her to lay out from the saddlebag, lifted the white one, and settled it by Becca's knee, uncovered and ready for use.
    "Thank you, Nancy," Becca murmured, her eyes still on her patient's odd profile. "I will need