and scratched her head. “It’s much better in here now, isn’t it?” she said, keeping her voice low.
Thrain lifted her beak, wanting Flell to scratch the spot underneath it, which she did. Satisfied, the little griffin sat down by her foot, purring. “Arren is sick,” she said suddenly.
“I know,” said Flell. “He’s very unhappy. Eluna died.”
“He is hurt,” said Thrain.
Flell paused. “What d’you mean, Thrain? Where is he hurt?”
“I smell blood,” said Thrain. “Blood, there.” She stood up, but instead of walking toward Arren she made for the table. She paused there a moment, sniffing, and then snatched at the tunic hanging over the back of the chair. It fell down, landing in a sad little heap at the chick’s foretalons, and she started to peck the fabric, twittering to herself.
Flell came over and crouched to look at it. “Can I pick it up?” she asked.
Thrain nodded and withdrew, and Flell picked up the tunic.
There were bloodstains on it. Several of them. Flell dropped the tunic and almost ran toward the hammock. When she pulled the blanket away, she noticed for the first time that there were also stains on the tunic Arren was wearing now, over his chest and shoulders.
He woke up when she undid the fastenings on the front, and tried to push her hands away. “No, don’t—that hurts—aah!”
His chest was thin and pale, scattered with black hairs and the faded scars that all griffiners had. There were several puncture marks on his shoulders and a partly healed slash just above his heart, and nearly all of them were red and swollen with infection.
Flell knew a few things about medicine. She felt the wounds carefully; they were hot to the touch, and Arren cringed at the slightest contact.
She withdrew her hands. “Arren, for gods’ sakes, why didn’t you go to a healer?”
He closed his eyes. “I thought they’d get better on their own. I couldn’t afford it.”
There was a thud from behind them. Flell turned to see Bran and Gern arrive. They were carrying several parcels.
Flell went to them. “How did you do?”
Bran put down his burden on the table and gave her back her money pouch. “Not too bad. I owe yeh five oblong.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Flell. “Did you get food?”
“Of course we did,” said Gern, gesturing at the parcels. “What d’you think that is, the Mistress’ jewels? We caught a couple of stallholders as they were packing up. Got cabbage, cheese, bread and some smoked fish. It was cheap, too. Always is at the end of the day.” He looked toward Arren. “How’s he doin’?”
“Not well,” said Flell. “He’s got some infected wounds on his chest. Thrain smelt them out.”
“I’m all right,” Arren called. “They don’t hurt much now. They’ll get better.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Flell said grimly. “You two, could you give me a hand?”
There was nothing for it but to clean the wounds as well as they could. Bran held Arren down while Flell used her knife to cut away the scabs and then cleaned the pus out. Once each wound was as clean as she could make it, she daubed on some ointment Gern found in a cupboard and then covered it up with a crude bandage.
Arren didn’t enjoy the process one bit. He yelled and struggled and mouthed abuse at them when they refused to let him go. It was an ugly scene, but Flell only gritted her teeth and worked on. When she had finished, she tied the last hastily made bandage into place and pulled him to his feet. He stood, trembling slightly, but didn’t try to make good on any of the threats he’d made.
“There,” said Flell. “That’s better. Now, try not to touch them. They need a chance to heal. How d’you feel?”
“My head hurts,” Arren volunteered.
“I’m not surprised. How does your chest feel?”
“Like I’ve been stabbed by a girl with a dagger,” said Arren.
“Har har, very funny. How did you get those injuries in the first place?”
“Shoa,” said Arren. “She—she—she knocked me over and stuck her talons in me ’cause I . . . called your father a liar to his face.”
“You did what?” said Flell. “Arren, what were you thinking?”
“Well, he is a liar,” said Arren, slumping back into his hammock. “He said—he said—said—he told me to go, and then when I got back he said he didn’t, and Riona wouldn’t listen to me, and I called him a liar, and Shoa said—” He