Hearts Return - Part 7

Zandrianna watches Ceolfred slip out the window, disappearing like a moonbeam at dawn. She stares where he had once stood for a moment, before a second knock rattles the door. "I'm coming," she calls out and, muttering something distinctly unladylike moves across the room to unlock the door. Seeing Emrabeth with on the other side, she furrows her brow. "What's all this ..." she starts, only to have the brash young woman push her aside as she leads the serving wench into the room.

The other young woman follows tentatively, her face showing the strain of pain, as she continues to clutch the blood-soaked rag against her cut palm.

"Girl here cut her hand pretty badly, and I remember Merry mentioned you were a good hand with healing," Emrabeth leads the girl to the bed and motions her to sit down, shuddering as she looks down at the blood, before turning away quickly.

"Let me see to it then," Zandrianna says, calmly turning to find her bag. "Emrabeth, would you light the sconce for me?"

Glad to be looking anywhere else for the moment, Emrabeth works on the candle in the sconce, and soon has it lit, the sooty glass obscuring some of the warm glow of the flame.

At Emrabeth's gesture, the girl sits gingerly in the chair under the lamp's dim light, her stringy brown hair falling into her eyes. "Don' mean t' be a bother, miss," she says, holding her joined hands against her chest. "Bit of broken pottery mug it was, that one of the lads broke. It fair jumped up and bit me! Don't know why Walt even lets those boys in, the way they go through mugs, 'cept I think he charges them twice their cost to replace."

Zandrianna digs through her bag and pulls out several clean cotton clothes. She turns to Emrabeth, who is staring over the serving girl's head, her face pale and sweaty. With a brief nod of understanding, Zandrianna motions towards the door. "Why don't you run downstairs and get me a pot of hot water, while I take a look at the girl's hand," she asks, before turning to sit down.

With almost inelegant grace, Emrabeth turns and dashes from the room and Zandrianna glances at the doorway with a shake of her head before turning back to take the cloth off the girl's hand. To keep the young serving girl distracted while she worked, she started talking. "What's your name child?"

"De-Delliah, miss," she says, wincing slightly as Zandrianna pulls the cloth free. She glances down at her cut palm, which still bleeds, and then looks away, biting her lower lip.

"These boys," Zandrianna says, as she presses the cloth into Delliah's palm again, holding it firmly in place. "You say they're regular trouble-makers?"

Delliah nods a few times. "Bunch of the locals, angry over lost farms or the like. It's all because of the new manor lord." He gaze meets Zandrianna's and the girl lowers her voice. "He's not a nice man. Been raising rents, calling in old debts, all sorts of things. More than one family's found themselves homeless, or struggling to pay. Those lads all got cause to hate him."

Clucking her tongue in sympathy, Zandrianna lifts the cloth and, noting the amount of blood on it, sets it aside and reaches for another. "Someone must have really shattered a mug, to make a shard that’d do this!” She motions to the young girl's hand and raises it towards the light to see better.

Delliah nods. "Was that Talthos - he's the worst of them. Not that I can blame him after..." She trails off, shaking her head, then wincing as Zandrianna works on the injury. "That's why I wish Walt'd would send 'em packing. Most of those boys are just talk, but Talthos - well, he's the sort to do something foolish. An’ with his uncle the paymaster for the Watch, guards often just look the other way. But if he does try something ... well, I wouldn't want it known he'd been plotting here. That Sallastin, he might just take it out on us all." she breaks off again, with another shiver, this one of fear.

Zandrianna looks up at Delliah's face as she says Sallastin's name in a strangled whisper, as though the very mention of the man would have him appearing inside the small room. "Something foolish? You don't think he'd try to go after this man himself do you? Talthos must have a very powerful reason to hate Sallastin."

She nods. "Aye, that he does. An' that's why I worry he might get his crowd doing more than just talk.” She frowns again at a stab of pain from her hand and looks down again to watch Zandrianna work. "Not going to leave a scar, is it?" Delliah whispers.

Zandrianna brings Delliah's hand up close to examine it, the cut straight and clean despite the amount of blood. "I'll sew it up. It'll leave a light scar, but it'll hardly be noticeable unless you point it out." Zandrianna speaks soothingly as she picks up one of the cotton strips and blots the cut. "You've worked here long?" she asks, feeling the girl's hand tremble in hers.

"Only a year or so," the girl says, keeping her attention fixed on the far wall as Zandrianna continues her work. "Since my Ma died... we need the extra coin. During the day I help our local seamstress out. She's very good, and she's even teaching me a bit." She glances down at her palm, then away again. "That's why I don't want it to scar, you see. I don't care if it shows, not really ... I just don't want it to keep me from sewing well."

Zandrianna reaches for a small tub of salve and opens it before turning to stare at the door. "What’s taking that girl so long with the water?” she mutters, but before she can stand up to look down the hall, footsteps echo across the floor and Emrabeth steps into the room.

"Set here beside me on the windowsill." Zandrianna instructs. She reaches for another cloth and dips it in the water, before working on cleaning the cut out. "I'm sorry to hear that," "It must be rough,” she says to Delliah,”and you're very strong to do so much. Don’t worry ... it shouldn't affect your ability to sew at all. I'll tell you how to keep it clean while it heals."

Delliah lets out a sigh of relief, her tense shoulders visibly relaxing. "That's okay then," she says. "I've seen mistress Letira struggling went the arthritis makes her fingers curl and I was afraid." She puffs out a breath, trying to blow the wayward strands away from her eyes. "That's okay then," she repeats as Zandrianna picks up a needle and threads it.

Emrabeth looks down at the needle and then over to the girl's hand. "If you don't need me, I'll wait outside," she says, before turning and hurrying to the doorway.

Zandrianna barely spares her a glance, before returning her attention to Delliah's hand. With a few steady, precise stitches, she soon has the cut sewn shut. "You'll want to keep the cut stitched just as I put them in for 7 - 10 days," Zandrianna instructs, reaching for the salve to spread a little in the girl's palm. "This will keep it clean and ease the discomfort. I'll send you home with it. You're to clean the cut twice a day, more if it should get dirty, and apply this."

She picks up another cloth strip and beings to wrap the girl's palm, and, seeing the girl wince, continues trying to distract her with conversation. "You say your mistress has arthritis? Does no one tend to her? There are things she could do that would ease such a malady greatly.” replies

"Oh, that’s okay – the local healer's been to see her," Delliah answers. "He has her scrubbing her hands twice a day with snakeskin, t' get the flexibility back. Mistress Letira says it helps, a bit, though I know it still pains her sometimes."

Zandrianna, finishing with Delliah's hand, looks up with a scowl. "Snakeskin? Useless. It’s likely the rubbing itself that eases the pain, not what she's rubbing it with."

Delliah frowns. "But the healer, she says that'll make the snake's flexibility rub into the...." She trails off at Zandrianna's expression.

Zandrianna mutters something in rohirric, and presses a hand to her forehead. "That's not going to do a thing to help her. There are proper salves that will ease her pain, and other things she can do to help ... keeping the hands warmed is one of them. That's the only reason the rubbing might help."

The girl looks down at the neat wrapping on her hand, and chews her lower lip again. "If that's so... would ..." She looks up and meets Zandrianna's eyes. "Could you come take a look at her? Sometime?"

Zandrianna looks at Delliah's hopeful expression and nods. "Of course, I'd be happy to assist in whatever way I can. Let me know when and I'll come around to see her. You can leave me a message down at the bar." Zandrianna stands up and begins putting her tools away.

Emrabeth turns to look into the room, clearly relieved as she sees the girl's bandaged hand. "I told you she was a good healer.”

Delliah nods. "Aye, miss, you did." She wiggles her fingers under the bandage and winces slightly. "Still stings," she says. "An' I should get back down to my duties afore Walt docks my pay." She flashes Emrabeth a quick smile. "I liked your singing, earlier," she adds.

Emrabeth's cheeks burn as she watches the girl leave, then shuts the door and turns to look towards the open window. She squeezes past Zandrianna and, as she reaches out to close it, a shadow catches her eye: Ceolfred, sliding away from the base of the window, where he’s been listening to the conversation. Emrabeth watches the shadow disappear over the edge of the roof. Grinning, she says, “Won't do us any good, you taking the sniffles before to competition,” and closes the window, before turning her attention to Zandrianna. "Now that the girl is tended, let me tell you what I heard downstairs ..."