Chap. 342 Triage

Chap. 342 Triage

K’ndar felt left out. The fire lizards were all grouped just above Lizard’s head, watching as B’rost directed Seven to begin cutting away the bola from the fallen trader’s body. Francie had, without comment, begun to gently probe the dog’s injuries. I have nothing to do, he thought, feeling useless.

The bronze fire lizard hissed whenever Seven looked at him.

“I swear the fire lizards are monitoring your work,” B’rost said, “I think the bronze is saying, “Have a care with that knife, Seven.””

Maybe I do have something to do, K’ndar thought. Keeping an eye on Seven.

“I’m being careful!” Seven snapped, suppressing the urge to swat the fire lizard. He felt K’ndar’s eyes on his back. The fire lizards are nuisances and so are your friends, he thought. You need to be doing this, not me. I don’t like K’ndar watching my every move, never mind a flying tunnel snake.

Something about the way the ropes were wrapped around Lizards’ body drew B’rost’s attention. He held up his hand. “Wait.” Ah. “What do you see about these ropes?”

Seven frowned, then looked at the rope he’d just cut. Shoving his resentment to the side of his mind, he ran his fingers over the ropes. They were wrapped several times around Lizard’s body. One of the rocks, neatly encased in a woven net of rope, lay on his chest. “This one rope around his chest, I don’t think it is long enough to have reached his head.”

“And yet?”

“And yet, he’s got a big lump on the side of his head. It’s bleeding, slowly.”

“Correct. And I think you’re right, although I don’t know anything about bolas,” B’rost said. “Now look, the one around his chest-is that blood on the rope?”

Seven rocked back on his heels, only to feel the dog’s tail thumping his thigh. He moved away from it. Damned dog. Hemmed in by animals! What did B’rost ask? Oh, yes. The ropes.

“Yes. But I don’t think it’s from the head wound. I think he’s got a wound under it. I see two rocks, nine wraps around his chest, waist and upper legs. Three ropes that join in a single knot, just beneath his ribs. There has to be a third rock underneath him. I think I can wiggle my hand underneath him to find it.”

“Why don’t you just roll him over?” B’rost asked, slyly.

“NO! He might have a broken neck.”

“Right. And if he does? Can you move him safely?”

Seven thought for several moments, then shook his head. “I can’t, not without stabilizing the neck. Even then,” he sucked his teeth, “I don’t know if a Healer like you can, or even a Master. A broken neck usually means a broken spinal nerve and how to fix that has been lost for thousands of years.”

B’rost shook his head, sadly. “You’re right. I will admit I’ve never treated this injury before. It’s so seldom that the casualty is still alive by the time we get to him. The only time I saw it was when I was an apprentice, like you, and the man had died within minutes.”

“Which was probably for the best. Otherwise he might have been paralyzed from the neck down. And no one wants to live being paralyzed.”

“How would you be able to tell without moving him?” K’ndar asked, dismayed.

“Asking him what he can or can’t feel, but he’s unconscious. I wish he’d wake up!” He worked his hand gently underneath Lizard and sighed. “I have it,” he said, and pulled a smaller rock at the rope. He laid the ropes alongside the man’s legs.

K’ndar felt a cold stone in his stomach. If Lizard is paralyzed…

What is paralyzed? Raventh asked.

It’s when the spinal cord is broken and nothing below it or behind it can move. It’s the same thing as when you kill a giant wherry, what do you do?

I catch him with my forefeet and bite just behind his head. Then he stops flying or moving.

I can feel the bones crunch when I bite him in just the right spot. Sometimes if you bite too far back they can reach around and slash you. Their beaks are sharper than teeth!

Right. It’s not the bones, it’s the nerve that you’re cutting. But in humans, sometimes, they don’t die when it’s cut. They can’t move their arms or walk afterwards.

He wouldn’t be able to walk?

No. It’s like that dragon at Honshu, he can’t fly anymore because his spinal cord was damaged.

Golanth.

Yes, I think that’s his name but I can’t remember the rider’s. They’re at Honshu Weyr.

I have never talked to him, but even with dragons lifting him into the air, I know he isn’t happy. Only because his rider is alive did he not suicide. I wouldn’t want to live like that.

Nor do humans. If Lizard is paralyzed, he will ask us to give him a one way ride.

Yes. Like T’ovar did after Firoth suicided. I felt bad for Firoth. But not T’ovar.

Raventh was silent for several moments.

I would be glad to take him between. Careth told me how he felt T’ovar try to jump off. So he turned over to one side and T’ovar pushed himself off.

Seven noticed the dog licking Francie’s fingers. He shivered involuntarily. I’ll never get used to dogs he thought. She must be doing that to impress me.

“You’re feeding him your fingers?” he grumbled. How is it dogs immediately hate me and yet strangers like her can do what she likes to them?

Francie laughed. “Nay, nay. I’m giving him a little sleepyherb, that’s all. I’m not sure because his fur is so thick, but I don’t think the arrow is all that deep in his body. If it had hit anything vital he’d be dead, or a least paralyzed. Even so, I don’t want to just yank it out, no matter what B’rost says.”

“Sissy,” the blue rider snickered.

“Sissy, is it? I’m a girl, it’s okay for me to be ‘sissy’. Males can be sissy, too, but they think their bollocks will fall off if they admit it. Besides, I’m a lot closer to this brute’s fangs than you are,” she teased back.

“And you think that wasn’t planned?” B’rost laughed outright.

She laughed. “You’re devious, bluey.”

“I’d be careful about calling her a sissy,” K’ndar said, grinning, “I remember how she saved your arse in our first fight against Thread.”

“Woof,” B’rost said, nodding his head, “I had no idea where you came from, Francie but yeah, you did, you saved us both. Rath may be blue but otherwise we were green! He was so excited he blew out every bit of flame in his tank in one great whoosh. So now we’re in a Thread fall with no flame! A whole cloud of it came out of nowhere, I knew it was coming down on my head. I could hear it hissing and thought, oh shit I am so dead. Motanith flamed that cloud so close I would have been burned bald if Rath hadn’t dropped like a stone. I still don’t know if he dropped or Motanith shoved him. I’ll never forget it, Francie, and I owe you.”

I pushed him. I didn’t know I could do that then Motanith said, I just did it.

“I’m not afraid to admit that I was scared,” K’ndar said, “I saw it happening and I didn’t know who I was scared more for, me or you.” He laughed.

“You were scared, for me?” B’rost said, pleased.

“Aye, mostly because I thought, damn it, now I have to break in a new roommate.”

The three dragonriders roared. Seven scowled, left out.

Francie grinned. “You have to admit, B’rost, greens LOVE a good thread fight. It gives them a chance to show your boys up. Fortunately, that isn’t difficult.”

K’ndar laughed, then saw the expression on Seven’s face. What IS it with this man?

“Ah,” Francie said,”the sleepyherb acts fast.”

“It’s called a “sedative,”not ‘sleepyherb’,” Seven said, his tone scathing.

Francie heard it. She gave him the stink eye. “It still works, though, RIGHT?” She bit off ‘asshole’.

“Seven, knock it off, B’rost snapped, “and get those ropes cut. See how he’s bleeding through the shirt and jacket? A stab wound, maybe? just above the heart. At least it’s not from the aortic artery. Had he been hit there, we’d be burying him.”

Seven removed the last of the ropes. “Yes,” he said, “there’s definitely a hole in the shirt, right in front of the armpit. I don’t think it’s a stab wound, I think it’s an arrow wound, meaning there should be an exit wound. That’s a nice shirt, by the way, I’m sure he’s going to be pissed when he learns it’s been cut.”

“If he’s paralyzed, the shirt is the least of his problems,” B’rost said, mournfully.

Francie could see that Seven was no longer acting like an apprentice, but like what? Like an over critical father, or a harridan of a mother.

She looked at his face as he carefully cut away Lizard’s bloodied shirt. Who are you, Seven? Why this animosity, the scornful comments, made to make us look stupid? Is it jealousy? Yes. You’re jealous. You’ve already said no dragon would have you. Now you’re jealous of our history, as dragonriders, our easy camaraderie. You’ve no sense of humor, Seven. You’re stiff, like wood.

You’re possessive of a teenaged boy? B’rost’s just nineteen, and you must be in your mid thirties. What is your grief with K’ndar? Oh, wait. I get it. You’re afraid of him! Yes. You’re resenting their bond, they’ve been friends since Weyrlingschool. You resent B’rost’s friendship with us. You’re trying to control him, that’s it. Yes. Oh, I know you now, Seven. This is creepy. You’ve seduced B’rost! You’re like a stallion, keeping the other horses from getting near your mare who’s about to go into heat. You’re trying to own B’rost, why?

What do I tell B’rost? HOW do I tell B’rost? Should I tell him what I think? I might be all wrong. But no, my gut says I’m right, and she’s never lied to me yet.

“Oh my stars,” Seven choked, seeing Lizard’s bared chest and stomach. “He’s been spitted. Cut almost in half, how did he survive this? Look, look at the scar! Neck to navel!”

“But it’s long healed, Seven. I know the history behind that wound. K’ndar can tell you more, but briefly, Lizard was attacked by horse thieves, two against one, and one slashed him with a sword. I think. This fresh wound, now that I look at it, it’s from a knife,” B’rost said, “it tore along his left rib cage and kept going up over his collar bone, I think.”

K’ndar picked up the ropes of the bola, hefting the stones. These are nice, he thought. “The earlier wounds, B’rost, not a sword, it was a knife, but still, they ambushed him, cut him up, stole his horses and left him for dead. He probably would have died had not my brother found him.”

“Well, it looks as if they came back for a second go at him,” Seven said.

“Hardly,” K’ndar said, his face inscrutable, “especially now. Depending on their crime, Lord Dorn is more than happy to relieve criminals of their heads or banish them to the wilderness with nothing more than the clothes on their back. Those criminals will never be back. Lord Dorn likes to keep his Hold clean of vermin.”

He looked hard at Seven. “I witnessed the beheading of one of them. It was neat and quick..but not pretty.”

B’rost and K’ndar exchanged glances. He didn’t see Betzil beheaded, B’rost thought. I did. But we both know it happened.

“Good. Too many Holders seem to be lax on that, these days. As it is, I’m suspecting he was ambushed, again,” Seven said, “I don’t see any injuries from an arrow other than superficial. I bet there’s a hole through the back of his shirt, it looks to me as if his arm was raised when he was shot, and the arrow went right under his armpit. He was lucky.”

“Not quite lucky, not just yet,” Francie said, “He’s still out. Can’t you wake him?”

“I’m surprised he’s not awake now, honestly,” B’rost said.

The longer he’s unconscious, he thought, means there’s brain damage. I won’t voice that. No need to worry K’ndar and Francie any more than they already are. “The blood is just starting to coagulate, so I’m guessing this all happened less than an hour ago. I hope he wakes up, I want to check for an exit wound.”

“We got here immediately,” Francie thought, a note of pride in her voice. “I couldn’t harness Motanith fast enough. K’ndar, I need your help. Crunch is drooping, he’ll be out in a moment. I don’t want him to fall over onto the arrow. Can you straddle him and hold him up? I need him upright so I can draw it.”

“My pleasure, ma’am, it’ll give me something to do.” He stepped over the dog and clasped the body between his calves and knees. The dog sighed and subsided into Francie’s arms.

“And down he goes. Sweet dreams, Crunch! K’ndar, hold him up!”

“Yes’m, he’s heavier than he looks,” he said, having to exert more strength than he expected, “he’s all muscle.” He carefully made sure there was clearance between the glittering arrowhead and the back of his knee, unprotected by his riding chaps. He could imagine the arrowhead slicing the artery. I’d bleed out in minutes, he thought.

Well, maybe not, there’s two healers here. No, one. B’rost. He’d save my life but I’m not sure if Seven would even bother.

While he controlled the dog, he measured the longest rope by putting one end in his armpit and the rock end in his fingertips. The rocks were smoother than hen’s eggs, almost begging he caress them with this thumb.

“This bola was expertly crafted,” he said. “It’s made for someone a bit taller than me. Where did he get these rocks! They’re beautifully matched, gram for gram, they’re perfect for bolas. They weren’t just picked up off the path.”

“They’re basalt,” B’rost said, without taking his eyes off Seven’s hands as the apprentice cleaned the arrow wound. “And if I’m half the geologist I believe I am, as smooth and uniform they are, they’re from a high energy beach, one with pounding surf on rocks rather than sand. Or the rapids of a river, but I’m thinking seacoast.”

“You and your rocks, B’rost!” Seven said, exasperated, “I need your help with this casualty, not a geology lesson.”

“He’s been talking rocks since we were Weyrlings, Seven,” K’ndar said, jumping to B’rost’s defense. “He’s taught me a lot of geology, something I knew nothing about. Give up trying to change him! These rocks are so perfectly shaped and matched in weight, you could easily ask a mark for them-and get it.”

“You know this how? Rocks are free! You’re joking, right?” Seven asked, incredulous. You’re playing me for a fool, K’ndar, there’s rocks all over Pern, there’s dozens of them cutting into my knees right now. Not once have I ever seen a rock at a Gather for barter, never mind for money.

“I am not joking. When it comes to making a bola, just any rock won’t do. The rocks make the bola work. Three legged bolas, like this one, have two large rocks and a smaller one on the longest rope. If they’re not matched well, if the smaller rock is too small or one of the larger rocks is angular or heavier than the other, the bola won’t open right, it won’t fly right. As to how I know this? I grew up on the steppe, where every herdsman uses a bola if he can’t rope a beast. I learned to throw at six and made my first one soon after. I got pretty good at it, my bolas did what I needed them to do, but this one makes my bolas look amateurish. I’ve never seen better craftsmanship, they’re so beautifully woven into the rope itself. A master made this, and if it were mine, I’d be back here, looking to recover the rocks. Do you mind if I keep them, B’rost?”

B’rost shook his head. “They’re Lizard’s. Someone gave them to him. The hard way,” he said, in a tone that allowed no argument.

“Yeesh, I’m sorry. You’re right,” K’ndar said, abashed. Then he saw the avarice in Seven’s glance.

Still controlling the dog, he dropped them right next to Seven’s knee. Purposefully. Let’s see how honest you are, jerk. I know that look.

Seven forced his eyes from the rocks. I hate you, K’ndar. You’ve pissed me off. You’re boasting to show off. B’rost admonished me in front of you and the woman and now he’s watching my every move. HE should be doing this. I’m just an apprentice.

He stole a glance at B’rost. I’ve lowered my standards, taking up with you, he thought. You’re a dingbat. I don’t want this trade, I never did. Rath is the only reason I even gave you a second look. I can find gullible boys anywhere, but you’re the only one I’ve ever known with a dragon. Rath is too convenient for me to just break us up.

“Do you have arrow cutters in your medipack?” Francie asked.

“I do.” Without turning his head to look, B’rost reached behind him, felt for the cutters and handed them and a pair of scissors to K’ndar, who handed them to Francie. “You’ll need scissors, to trim the fur away from the wound. Try to cut the arrow as close to the exit point as you can. Don’t contaminate the wound any more than you have to. Did you bring some smanda gel for the wound?”

“I did. K’ndar would be more than happy to smear it on the wound, right, K’ndar?”

“No way! Siskin will probably bolt when he smells it,” K’ndar said.

“You’re afraid of getting sticky? And why would a fire lizard be afraid of smanda gel?” Seven asked.

“Long story, Seven, and at the moment, we’re all busy doing something else,” K’ndar said, relishing the chance to finally stuff Seven’s animosity back where it belonged. Why is he being such a jerk? I’m done with being polite.

Crunch began to snore. “Sounds like he’s out, Francie,” B’rost said, laughing.

“About time, he was slobbering all over my sleeves. Let’s see how hard I have to work to get the arrow out.” She worked her fingers along the arrow, gently burrowing through the blood matted fur to find where the exit wound might be. Instead, she felt a wooden shaft.

“Whoa!”

“What, is it too deep?” K’ndar gasped.

“No!” She gave the arrowhead end an exploratory tug. It slid half way out, then hung up in the matted fur at the fletched end. “It wasn’t even underneath the skin! His fur kept it from hitting him!”

“Where’s all the blood coming from?”

She ran her finger along the shaft, feeling the opened skin between the thick hair.

“It’s from a long groove the head cut in his skin, but it’s all superficial,” she said, as she worked the arrow up through the fur. “He’s not hurt, really, just sliced. I’ll trim away the fur and cover the wound with smanda ointment. He’ll heal up quickly. Thank you, B’rost, but I won’t be needing the cutters,” she said, handing the tool back.

“Sounds like the archer wasn’t very good,” Seven snarked.

“On the contrary, Seven,” Francie said, “he actually did hit targets as they were running at him, especially Crunch. Dogs coming at you head on don’t provide much of a target. Especially one as ferocious as this one, coming fast and roaring every step. That shot took steady aim and steel nerves. And he was probably on horseback when he shot.”

“Can I let him down now? ” K’ndar asked.

“Oh, of course! Sorry!” she said.

He stepped over the dog, who slumped into a snoring lump. Francie stroked the dog’s head, then flourished the arrow. “This is a hunting arrow, for shooting down birds and small wherries. It’s not for anything much larger. Although I must admit I’ve never shot an arrow at a human in my life. My mother would have womped me silly,” she said, grinning.

“You mother taught you archery?” Seven said, unbelieving.

She held his eyes for three long counts. “Even at her age, Mum routinely hits the gold at forty five paces,” she said, her tone icy. “That’s about seventy meters if you can’t do the math. And she does it from the back of a galloping horse. She knaps her own arrowheads from obsidian, because, she says,”metal isn’t sharp enough. I don’t want to hurt the beast, just kill it.” When she hunts, Seven, she seldom comes home empty handed. She grows her own arrow wood and is her Lord Holder’s bowsmith. Yes, I can safely say she taught me archery. Want to try me, Apprentice Seven? I’ll even spot you twenty paces, just to be fair.”

He flushed. “Um, no thanks. I believe you.”

I’ve had enough, Francie thought. “It’s none of my business, Seven,” she said, coldly, “but I’m beginning to question your choice of trades, never mind your words. You’re rude, you’re doing your best to antagonize us, you have yet to extend common, every day courtesy that every civil person on Pern uses as a matter of course. While you seem capable enough as an apprentice, you don’t seem very happy to be one,” she hissed.

“Nor do you seem to have any respect for dragonriders,” K’ndar added, “to include the man whose dragon brought you here.”

Seven felt his face flush. How dare you, woman. “You’re right, it’s none of your business,” he snapped.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

It was broken by a groan from Lizard.

“Lizard! It’s me, K’ndar, and Francie, and B’rost! Can you hear me?”

The trader opened his eyes. It took him a moment to finally look at him.

“Damn it, is my head still on my neck?” He lifted his right hand to his head.

“Oh, wonderful!” B’rost thrilled,”one arm works and you’re lucid. Someone tried to knock it off, it seems,” he said. “I’m going to have to bother you with a lot of questions, sir, but I must. Can you wiggle your fingers, can you feel your fingertips? Can you lift your legs? Your left arm? Can you wiggle your toes?” he asked.

“One at a time! My toes? My head is killing me and my chest feels like I’ve been kicked by a horse.” He lifted each leg and rotated each foot. He groaned when he attempted to lift his left arm. “They shot me! I kept coming, oh, shaff, my armpit hurts. Everything hurts. Yes, I can wiggle my toes, and my fingers, everything hurts, from my toes to my nose.”

They cheered.