Teri McLaren
don't you took for some tinder for a fire?" Doulos nodded and made for the rocks.
When the slave was far enough ahead, Javin peeled back the old bandage and held his hand close, trying to see the wound. But it was futile: the night was too dark and the mist too heavy. He hurried to catch up with Doulos before he lost him in the fog.
In a few minutes, Javin's firestone had sparked a low flame for a fire within the sheltering ring of boulders, and they were hunched over its flickering light.
"I hope they don't see this light, Doulos. Granted, we could probably take them, but the idea is to let them lead us to Cheyne. Your friend Ghazi was of much help with that information," said Javin softly. "I'm sorry he didn't…"
"He knew his life was worth very little to the Schreefa. But I am sorry, too. She never let him learn to swim, you know. Her slaves never worked the river," said Doulos. "I have lost many friends, Muje. But each time becomes no easier for the previous experience."
They sat in silence for a time, watching the fire. At length, Javin took out his knife and began to pass it through the flames.
Doulos looked up at him, puzzled. "Again, Muje? It has been only a few hours."
Javin nodded. Every time Javin lanced it, the sting had closed over and appeared to be healing, but then the dark poison rose up inside and the fever came upon him, the fiery pain shooting up through his hand and arm all over again, just as it had that night back at the ruin. If he could get to Cheyne and then to the Borderlands, if he could just find the forest…
"Doulos, do you know anything about the Sarrazan healing legends?" said Javin, cleaning the knife in the sand.
"Not much, Muje. Only that the juma said no poison could stay there. They dance, the elves. They whirl and beat their magical rhythms on the forest floor with their feet, and the evil is drawn from wounds, and the