She led her horse slowly for several steps, hearing its deep, panting breaths slowly quiet to normal; rubbed its head absently, leaning against the warm, sweating body. She thought, not for the first time since she had undertaken this long journey, how fortunate it was that she was hardened to long riding, hunting with hawks in her distant mountain home. // I were the kind of woman who did little more than sit over her embroidery-frames, I would be half dead of saddle-sores. This made her think of Melora again (How weary she must be!) and she made her way through the Amazon crew: dismounting, slumped to rest, eating, talking in low tones. She noted that Jaelle had been lifted down and was sleeping heavily, curled up on someone’s cloak, and covered with another. At least they seem to be looking after her well. I do not suppose any of them know much about children.
She looked around for Melora, seeing that Kindra was helping her kinswoman out of the high saddle; but before she could approach them, Nira, the crude bandage loose around her thigh, intercepted her. “Can you dress this wound by moonlight, domna? It hinders my riding more than I thought, or I would wait for the light.”
Rohana felt a moment’s impatience; then, remembering that Nira’s wound had been incurred in their service, felt ashamed of herself. “I’ll try. Come here, away from the shadows, where the light is brightest.” She rummaged in her saddlebag for the few items of women’s gear she had brought, found a clean, unworn shift and tore it into strips. Like everything else it was gritty with the sand of the Dry Towns, but clean.
She had to cut the bandage, and then the trouser leg, away with a knife; it was stuck to the wound with clotted blood. Nira swore under her breath, but did not flinch as Rohana washed the ugly cut with the sour wine-At least the stuff is good for something, she thought-and bandaged it tightly, pressing the hard pad of bandage against the wound. “It should be stitched; but I cannot do that by moonlight. If it begins to bleed again, I will do what I can when it is light.”
Nira thanked her. “Now, if that bastard Jalak doesn’t poison his weapons-one hears such things of Dry-Town men-”
“He does not,” Melora said quietly beside them, and ‘ Rohana rose, folding what remained of the torn shift, to see her cousin standing there. Her face was dim in the moonlight, but even so it looked swollen and unhealthy. “Jalak would think that a coward’s way; it would mean he did not believe his blows were strong enough to kill, and he would lose kihar-lose prestige, you would say, be shamed before, his peers, if he stooped to a poisoned blade.”
Nira got up awkwardly; grimacing as she put weight on her wounded leg. Her boot crunched on sand as she drew it on. She said wryly, “That is a comforting thought, Lady, but is it fact, or is it a sentiment seemly for a loving wife?”
“It is true, on the honor of my House,” said Melora quietly, but her voice trembled, “and only my own Gods know how little I was a loving wife to Jalak, or anything else but a pawn to his filthy pride.”
“I meant no offense,” Nira said, “but I make no apology either, Lady. You dwelt in his house a full thirteen years, and you did not die. I would not have lived to shame my kinsmen so, even though my father is no great Comyn lord but a small-farmer in the Kilghard Hills.”
“You have shed blood in my service, mestra; could I take offense, unless my pride were as great and evil as Jalak’s own? As for my own life-can you see in the darkness?” She thrust out her wrists, took Nira’s fingers in her own and guided them. Rohana, watching, touching, saw and felt the rough callouses from the metal bracelets on the chains; and above them on each darkly tanned wrist, a long, ragged, seamed scar. “I will bear them to my death,” she said. “And after that, I was chained day and night-chained so tight I could not feed myself and had to be fed by the women and carried to the bath and to the latrines.” Her voice shook with anger and remembered humiliation. “By the time I had healed, my child had quickened hi me, and I would not kill the unborn with my own death.” She looked at the dark form of her daughter, huddled and lost in sleep, saying, “How did you get her away? Jalak had given her into the charge of his fiercest woman-guard….”