15min fic #63
Oct. 15th, 2004 06:41 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annarti.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
yrae
Title~ Healers' Trade
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 63. Doesn't have as much to do with the word as originally intended, but whatever.
~ ~ ~
Yamin waited patiently inside the healing house as the other healers rested against the wall outside. There were fifteen of them on duty that day, three times as many as usual, since the King’s Own were due to return from a campaign up north. More often than not they returned largely unharmed, but there was always the chance that all fifteen riders would need assistance, some more than others.
Soon enough, the gates at the palace’s outer walls creaked open, admitting the exhausted riders and their steeds. Yamin could hear their hooves echoing across the courtyard as the stable hands took them to be washed down.
The healers came back inside once they’d assessed the damage. “Six coming over,” Nanuka reported, “What looks to be a broken arm, a sprained ankle and a number of nasty gashes from swords, arrows and the like. Nimay’s not among them.”
Yamin nodded, watching as the other healers gathered damp cloths, bandages and salve. She couldn’t help but notice how calmly her subordinates went about their business, when years ago, when she had first seen the Own return from Kazin with a manner of broken bones and gashes, they had seemed so tense.
Soon enough, the six bruised and battered warriors wandered into the healing house, letting out a collective groan as they eased wary limbs onto the stone block-beds.
The two men who had helped the one with the injured ankle made to leave, but Yamin caught them before they reached the door, glancing at the numerous arrow gouges in their flesh.
The two warriors followed her gaze as though seeing the wounds for the first time, then shrugged. “May as well,” one agreed, holding out one arm. “Work your magic.”
Yamin smiled and ran her thumb slowly over the cuts, caked with dried blood but still weeping slightly. New skin knitted itself over the cuts as the magic of the yrae stone made contact with it. She did her best to make sure they wouldn’t scar, but the odds were that they would.
When she had finished, the men thanked her, brushed off the dried blood and mooched off in the direction of the baths and massage rooms. Yamin stared after them for a few moments, wondering how much of their apparent indifference to the wounds was genuine, and how much they just put it on to appear tough.
Finally she shrugged and went to tend her other patients.
Author~ Annarti
Disclaimer~ All mine
Notes~ 15 minute fic, word 63. Doesn't have as much to do with the word as originally intended, but whatever.
Yamin waited patiently inside the healing house as the other healers rested against the wall outside. There were fifteen of them on duty that day, three times as many as usual, since the King’s Own were due to return from a campaign up north. More often than not they returned largely unharmed, but there was always the chance that all fifteen riders would need assistance, some more than others.
Soon enough, the gates at the palace’s outer walls creaked open, admitting the exhausted riders and their steeds. Yamin could hear their hooves echoing across the courtyard as the stable hands took them to be washed down.
The healers came back inside once they’d assessed the damage. “Six coming over,” Nanuka reported, “What looks to be a broken arm, a sprained ankle and a number of nasty gashes from swords, arrows and the like. Nimay’s not among them.”
Yamin nodded, watching as the other healers gathered damp cloths, bandages and salve. She couldn’t help but notice how calmly her subordinates went about their business, when years ago, when she had first seen the Own return from Kazin with a manner of broken bones and gashes, they had seemed so tense.
Soon enough, the six bruised and battered warriors wandered into the healing house, letting out a collective groan as they eased wary limbs onto the stone block-beds.
The two men who had helped the one with the injured ankle made to leave, but Yamin caught them before they reached the door, glancing at the numerous arrow gouges in their flesh.
The two warriors followed her gaze as though seeing the wounds for the first time, then shrugged. “May as well,” one agreed, holding out one arm. “Work your magic.”
Yamin smiled and ran her thumb slowly over the cuts, caked with dried blood but still weeping slightly. New skin knitted itself over the cuts as the magic of the yrae stone made contact with it. She did her best to make sure they wouldn’t scar, but the odds were that they would.
When she had finished, the men thanked her, brushed off the dried blood and mooched off in the direction of the baths and massage rooms. Yamin stared after them for a few moments, wondering how much of their apparent indifference to the wounds was genuine, and how much they just put it on to appear tough.
Finally she shrugged and went to tend her other patients.