Page 106 of The Eyes of Tamburah
“I don’t trust you to inform me of the extent of your injuries. I need to examine you. Don’t worry, no one will bother us in here.”
“Then you’re going to have to help me.” She doubted she could lift her arms to remove her pack.
Shyla expected to be embarrassed—no one had seen her naked since she learned how to dress herself—but Zhek remained professional as he assisted in removing all her stained and bloody clothing which went into a heap by the door. She kept her pack nearby. That pouch full of Rendor’s coins would be too tempting for almost anyone. And she hadn’t decided what to do with it yet.
Zhek helped her onto the table and examined her front and back. He tsked over the mess she’d made of her right shoulder. Then he cleaned her cuts, numbed them and closed the ones that required stitches. He left with a promise to return shortly and although she was naked and cold, she lacked any energy to protest or even care. Except the dull throb of bruised muscles, nothing really hurt for the first time…in forever. She rolled to her left side and drifted to sleep.
“…my care untilIsay so.” The harsh words woke her from a light doze and must have come from outside the room. It sounded like Zhek. Not that he’d ever spoken to her in that tone.
“Off you go,” Zhek ordered. He strode into the room carrying a set of clothing and a cup.
And right behind him stormed in Jayden. He spotted her on the table and stopped so fast it appeared as if he’d slammed into an invisible door. His shocked expression matched. If he wasn’t staring at her body with his mouth open, she would laugh.
Zhek stepped between them. “Leave.”
“Ah…okay.” Jayden turned on his heels and fled.
“My apologies, dear child.” Zhek handed her the clothing. “Do you need assistance?”
Not as much. The tunic, pants and undergarments were plain and a bit oversized. But they smelled clean and were no doubt donated from one of the ladies. She’d have to thank her later. After she was dressed, she grabbed her pack. Zhek led her to another room. This one had a sleeping cushion and a fur. He handed her the cup. Inside sloshed a light brown liquid.
“Your special healing tea?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m already tired. Do you really think I need this?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the boss.” Shyla downed it in a couple gulps.
“Ah, progress. Now if only we can keep you healthy for more than a few sun jumps at a time.” He took the cup from her.
Shyla shoved her pack under the cushion, then eased down and stretched out. Zhek covered her with the fur, tucking her in. He turned to leave.
“Zhek,” she murmured.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Comfortable, safe—for now—and warm, she embraced oblivion.
* * *
Opening her eyes, Shyla spotted Mojag sitting cross-legged in the threshold of her room.
He met her gaze, scrambled to his feet, and bolted. “She’s awake,” he shouted loud enough for the entire city of Zirdai to hear.
She grunted, rolled over, and groaned. The numbing paste had worn off. Her shoulder pulsed with pain and the rest of her battered body ached as if she’d been pummeled by boulders. Thinking of the sturdy Captain Yates, she thought it was an apt comparison.
She snuggled deeper into the cushion and pulled the fur over her head. If she tried really hard, she might be able to pretend that she slept in her own room on level three and everything that’d happened was all a vivid nightmare.
“It’s about time,” Jayden said, intruding on her efforts of delusion. “She shouldn’t have slept this long.”
Zhek harrumphed. “Her body decides that. Not some young sand rat. Now shoo and let me tend to my patient.”
