Page 82 of The Sea Witch
“She says she can wait for the doctor,” Olachi translated. “She says there are others who are in greater need.”
Fatima hesitated, but at Effia’s nod, the doctor strode away.
With a fresh cloth, Olachi continued to staunch Effia’s injury. Fortunately, this cloth was less red-stained. A moment later, Susannah knelt beside Effia.
“May I?” Susannah asked, gesturing to show she wanted to place her hand on Effia. “I’m not the doctor, but I have trained as a healer, and can help as we wait for Fatima.”
Olachi translated, and Effia gave a small nod. Susannahpressed her palm over the laceration. Susannah closed her eyes. Golden light enveloped her hand, and the light flowed into the other woman. When she lifted her palm, the seeping wound was sealed into a dark crease across Effia’s skin.
“Imeela,” Olachi said to Susannah as she inclined her head. Drawn but looking satisfied, Susannah took Olachi’s hand between her own.
Alys turned and stared when Ben offered her a tankard. She eyed its contents.
“Ale,” he explained. When she hesitated, he took a sip before handing it to her. “I left the poison out this time.”
She drank deeply, watching him over the rim of the mug. Of all the things she expected from him, concern about her ranked at the very bottom. Especially after Kinnear’s fortress—which Ben and the navy had once protected—was now in flames. Yet the sailing master seemed determined to defy her expectations.
With sails billowing, theSea Witchsped away from the smoking remains of Kinnear’s citadel. A thick smear of black billowed darker against the inky night. The wind carried the smoke away from the ship.
Chapter Eighteen
“Look lively!” Dorothea snapped.
Ben stepped to the side, out of her path, as she quickly carried blankets toward the freed women.
On theJupiter, he understood the routine. He wasn’t in the way, familiar with how the ship operated and what was expected of him.
Now, activity bustled around him, and he’d no idea where to be or what he was required to do. The ship’s surgeon moved from patient to patient, women either sitting or lying. Fatima was methodical, precise, yet she murmured calming words to her patient as she labored.
He’d witnessed the aftermath of battle before. Dr. Glynne would work his imprecise art, stemming the flow of blood as it spattered across the deck, hastily sewing up wounds or digging out bullets as men screamed and clutched at the cups of rum they were given to try to dull the pain. The deck always reeked of iron and gunpowder, with shit and sweat stinking beneath. Warne, theJupiter’s mage, would assist, sprinkling caustic potions on those that were most severely injured, muttering incantations over others. Yet Warne always looked irritated by his labors, as if he had other more important matters to attend to besides injured marines and seamen.
On theSea Witch, Fatima saw the injured first, cleaning lacerations and providing sutures or bandages. Then, half a dozen witches stepped in. They placed their hands upon the patients’ wounds, and golden light flowed from the witch into the injury. As they did this, the wounded women’s expressions eased. They sighed in relief and nodded thanks to their healers.
Cora rose from healing one of the captive women, and went to the railing near Ben. She stretched her sturdy arms and groaned in relief.
“The mage on our ship,” Ben said. “He only treats officers’ wounds. The rest is left to our surgeon.”
“Ah, well, mage magic is important magic,” Cora said with a shrug. “Only the finest of injuries for them. I suppose I’m not high up enough to warrant being picky about whose blood I’m staunchin’.”
“There’s a spell, then, for healing?”
“Don’t know about specific spells. No one ever showed me how to mend anyone. We witches, we don’t get much in the way of proper learnin’. I suppose you’d call it trial and error.”
She went to a bucket and lifted the dipper to her lips. Water dribbled into her mouth, yet there was a tightness to her expression and her skin was pallid. Until Faith, the cook’s mate, appeared with a sugared cake and handed it to Cora, who devoured it in two bites.
Some color filled Cora’s cheeks and she exhaled. “Not a full balancing, but it’ll do for now.”
“Then how do you do it? Fashion a healing spell, I mean.”
“If it’s a cut, I think about how the oriole weaves its nest. Bringin’ all these little bits together until it’s all safe and secure. I do that with the cut flesh, weavin’ it together. Might not always be pretty. It can leave a beauty of a scar.”
“A scar is better than blood everywhere and disease seeping into the flesh,” Thérèse threw in wearily. Golden lightdrifted around her fingers, fading as she took one of the cakes offered by Faith. “Step aside, monsieur le navigateur. We are still working.”
Ben hung back, keeping to the railing. He had no place here, yet no one took him down to the captain’s quarters. In truth, almost no one paid him any attention at all.
Alys glanced in his direction every now and again, her expression opaque, just as it had been when he’d given her ale.
Well, it made sense that he’d see to her. As captain of this ship, his fate was in her hands, and she was the key to hunting down the fail-safe. Once he had that, he’d carry out his duty. Yes, that was exactly why his worried attention kept drifting back to her.
