The larger man, Fredric Vladislav, hugged the furs to his bare chest. "It is not right that a woman should see me like this. Especially an unmarried one." The skin of his shoulders was milk-white. Many a lady would have been proud of such skin. The jagged white scar that traced the collarbone spoiled the effect somewhat, as did his strong hand clutching desperately at the fur. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, a soft, wooly gray. The sweeping white mustache went well with his impossibly broad shoulders.
Elaine had always thought Thordin a large man, but the paladin, for that was what he called himself, made Thordin seem small. One sword-callused palm could have covered Elaine's entire face. His feet pressed perilously close to the tent walls.
"I would not have disrobed if the healer had told me a young woman was going to enter."
"She's a … nurse. Isn't that what you called her?" Randwulf asked.
Konrad spoke from the back of the tent. He was laying out his salves and bandages on a clean cloth near the unconscious elf. "Yes, she's helped me tend the wounded many times." He never looked up, all attention for his medicines.
Once Elaine had thought that commendable. Now it was vaguely irritating, just another sign that she was of no real importance to him. She was just another tool, like a medicinal herb.
"I have seen a bare chest before, Master Vladislav," Elaine said, tugging on the fur. His strong hands held on. Short of cutting his grip free, she couldn't budge him.
"You have not seen my chest. Besides, girl, that is not the only thing bare under these covers." A rush of color crept up his neck, tinting him pink from upper chest to forehead.
Elaine smiled; she couldn't help it.
"Are you so brazen as to think that is funny? Are you a healer's aid or a camp follower?"
"I don't know what a camp follower is," she said.
"I would be happy to show you," the other man said. His voice had a happy lilt that made Elaine blush.
"Oh, you mean a woman of loose morals," she said softly. Her face was scarlet, and she looked away from the large man. She had tended the wounded, but it had mostly been her own family group. Truthfully, she'd never seen a complete stranger undressed. Konrad didn't seem to remember that, or perhaps he didn't care.
"Now, girl, I did not mean to embarrass. I would not do that for anything."
"I thought you'd tended the wounded," Randwulf said.
"Mostly my own family." She glanced at him. He was naked to the waist, arms behind his head as if he were posing for effect. His well-muscled chest was crisscrossed with scars. He half sat up, causing the furs to slide alarmingly. Elaine turned away.
"Have a care, you young idiot. She's not a camp follower to be impressed with your scars," the paladin said.
"Maybe a healer would be impressed with my scars, too."
Fredric made a sound halfway between a snort and a sigh. "Perhaps, but she is no healer. She is a young woman, and you are embarrassing her."
"If you do not let Elaine look at your wounds, then I will have to do it myself," Konrad said flatly. "That will mean leaving your unconscious friend's wounds until after I see to you. After what he did for you out there, I would think you'd cooperate."
Fredric raised up on one elbow, the other hand still clutching the furs. "Is he truly hurt?"
"He lost an arm and performed such magic as I've never seen. He is at least profoundly exhausted, if not worse."
The paladin frowned. "Do not leave his side if he is truly hurt. I will allow your. . nurse to tend me, but perhaps she would prefer someone else to tend our wounds. She seems uncomfortable confronted with two nearly naked strangers, wounded or not."
"Elaine's all right," Konrad said. He never turned around. His voice was vaguely irritated, but nothing more. He treated her like a faithful dog.
It must have shown on her face because Fredric said, "If you want to send in one of the men, we will understand. I do not think your friend is aware of how uncomfortable you are."
She shook her head. "If Konrad says I will be all right, I will be all right." Her voice held a warm touch of anger she could not control.
"Ah," Fredric said. He lay down again, hands loose on the furs. "Some people are more oblivious than others to those they see every day."
That a perfect stranger could so quickly see how she felt, and how Konrad ignored her, wounded Elaine. She would rather the paladin had stabbed her with a dagger than looked at her with kind, pitying eyes.
"Will you let me see your wounds?" She would not meet his eyes. It was too painful to see how clearly he saw everything. Let him think it modesty, though Elaine feared this paladin knew exactly why she would not meet his eyes.
"I will." Those two words held a quiet dignity. She glanced at his face. It was neutral, careful. He would not purposefully embarrass her; she knew that as if he had spoken it aloud.
Elaine touched the edge of white fur. Fredric raised his hands slightly to allow her to pull the covers down. She drew them off slowly, a knuckle's length of pale flesh coming to light at a time. His left arm bore a bite mark that still leaked blood. It would leave a nasty scar, but it was not serious unless it became infected. Infection took many a warrior when the wound itself wasn't a killing blow.
There was a patch of scar tissue near the center of his chest. Elaine touched it gently with her fingertips. The skin was rough and thickened like any scar. She ran fingers over his chest, as if to test that the rest of his skin was soft and unblemished, then back to the scar. It was white with age, an old scar, right over the heart. Something large had speared him there, long ago.
"This was a killing blow," she said.
"Aye, Silvanus brought me back from that one." His thick fingers caressed the scar, eyes distant with memory. "It was a good blow, straight through the heart."
"How many times has he brought you back?"
"Three, counting today."
"But that's.. that's …" Elaine had no words for it. She had seen so many die with wounds not half as serious as that one heart blow. But, of course, Fredric had also died, just not permanently. It was outrageous. . and wondrous.
Elaine lowered the covers another handspan or two. Even his stomach was flat and strong. Low on the stomach was the wound that had killed him this time. She folded the furs carefully at a line just below his waist. In truth, perhaps just a fraction lower. She tucked the covers firmly just below his hip bones. The smooth white skin of his stomach was in ruins.
Claws had sliced him open in ragged furrows. Teeth had torn great gaping hunks of flesh from his stomach. Even if it hadn't been a murderous wound, it would never have healed. There wasn't enough flesh left to fill in the hole. The wolves had eaten down through the muscle, shoving their muzzles into his stomach and intestines. This wasn't like closing the edges of some great wound, or mending a pierced heart. Hunks of flesh were gone, swallowed, before he was healed. The scar tissue was a great pinkish mound that covered most of the stomach.
Elaine touched the wound. She could almost feel the new flesh sinking away under her fingers. Scar tissue held his stomach and intestine together, scar tissue where it should never have been.
"Is this-and your arm-your only wounds?" she asked.
"My left leg, I think." His hands were back, clutching the covers. "You can draw away the furs from my leg." It was clear that pulling the covers farther down was not an option.
That was fine with Elaine. She lifted the furs from his left leg, folding them back to midthigh. It left his long body bare, save for a swath of fur across his groin, and one covered leg. His bare leg was long and muscled. His white hair had made Elaine think Fredric old, older than Jonathan, but this was a young body.
The claws had hamstrung him. The wound was partially healed, the deeper flesh knitted together in a pink mass. The lip of the wound still gaped where the claws had sliced, but the profound damage was healed.
"How did he heal only part of your wounds? How did the magic know to heal your worst injury? Is it possible to heal many lesser wounds and.run out of spell before a killing wound is mended?"
Fredric laughed. "Girl, I don't know. I'm no cleric. I've seen Silvanus do many wondrous things, but I've never thought to ask how he does it."
Elaine looked at his laughing face. She was puzzled. "Didn't you want to know how the healing worked?"
He shrugged broad shoulders. "As long as it works, that's all that matters."
"Spoken like a warrior with no hobbies," Randwulf said.