On The Prowl - By Patricia Briggs Page 0,88

was right overhead; sounding like a great battle was taking place outside. It made the structure creak and groan alarmingly, but it had to be sturdier than it looked, because it didn't spring a leak. I stopped contemplating the high-beamed ceiling when the horse nuzzled against me, trying to make up for almost tossing me in a puddle earlier. I wrinkled my nose at it, both because of the smell and the fact that it had grabbed the best position by the fire. I sat down at the table and resigned myself to a long night.

My thoughts were interrupted by a gigantic sneeze. "That doesn't sound good," Heidar commented. "Get out of those wet things and sit by the fire before you become ill."

"How am I supposed to 'sit by the fire' with that animal's backside in the way?"

The Fey sighed and pushed the horse into a corner of the little shed. It neighed in protest, but went. "Now, come to the heat and stop sulking," he told me.

I was about to make a sharp comment when an expression of pain crossed his face. It probably had something to do with the wicked-looking arrow point sticking out below his collarbone. It looked like the guard had been a better shot than I thought.

Old instincts took over. "Let me look at that." Heidar shied away, but I pursued him until his back hit the wall. "Don't be a baby. I'm not going to hurt you." I couldn't believe I was having to say that to someone who had a foot in height and about seventy pounds on me.

"What are you planning to do?"

"To help you, you stupid elf! I'm a nurse." I pulled on his good arm until he settled down at the tiny table.

"We are not called elves," he informed me. I used his knife to cut the tunic fabric away from the problem area, baring a long pale back to view. The dampness had kept the blood from drying around the wound, and the fabric came away easier than I'd expected for soaked cloth. It was the only good thing about the situation, though. "That is a human term. It's considered pejorative in Faerie."

"I'll keep that in mind. I'd hate to offend any Svarestri I meet." He smiled slightly, but the next minute his face drained of color when I snapped off the arrow point in a sudden movement. "Sorry."

He nodded, sweat blooming on his forehead. I tried to pull the shaft out of his back, to get the worst over with, but it wouldn't budge. It took me a minute to realize why. I stared at the ugly wound in disbelief. In the dim lantern-light, it looked black against his pale flesh, but it was about to look a whole lot worse. "This isn't good."

"I know. Do it quick."

"That's what I'm trying to tell you - I can't. I don't understand it, but... you've already started to heal. Around the arrow."

"Of course." He said it like every wound closes in less than an hour. "Pull it out before it gets any worse!"

I swallowed. This was not going to be fun. "You, uh, might want to hold onto something," I told him. Then I grasped hold of the feathered end of the shaft and gave a heave.

Heidar made a muffled grunt, and bit his bottom lip white, but overall he took it better than I did. To my relief, the arrow tore free easily, with minimal ripping. The blood that followed the shaft was also less than I'd thought it would be. So why did I suddenly have to sit down on the floor?

"You're a nurse?" He took the bloody shaft from my hand, sounding surprised. I suppose I wasn't acting much like a seasoned professional. Of course, I'd usually worked in the office side of the family business, and paperwork, however messed up, doesn't bleed.

"I'm a Lachesis," I said, blinking away a sudden rush of dizziness. He looked blank. "My family. It's House Lachesis," I clarified. Still blank. That was so bizarre that I actually forgot to be sick. "That means nothing to you?"

"The Disposer. In your mythology, she was one of the three Moirae, the Fates. She measured the spread of human life and determined its length." He looked slightly amused. "I hope you are not politely trying to tell me that my time is up."

"No." My vision cleared slightly. "The rumor is that an ancestor fled Venice after being involved in a poisoning affair

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