When she was just fourteen summers old, Klynzahr had pried a six ilm long hand spike from her father's calf and sewn the wound shut, while the ship surgeon offered instructions over her shoulder. At eighteen, she had removed a man's leg from the thigh, with nothing to mute his screams aside from a bottle of whiskey and a stick to hold in his teeth. In her twenty second year she had set both of her brother's ankles, with nothing but a few old timbers and strips torn from their blankets. She had thought herself immune.
Yet none of it had prepared her for the things that Evangeline had uttered under her hand. Broken sobbing, screams of terror and curses to make a void-sent cringe would never have drawn a second thought from the Roegadyn, but the broken and half-delirious confessions that poured from Eva left her deeply shaken.
Very cautiously the Sea Wolf drew herself closer to Eva's feverish form, trying to keep herself balanced on the thin strip of remaining bed. If she closed her eyes, the sea wolf knew she would begin to roll and send either herself or Evangeline to the floor. So she resigned herself to watching her injured friend for a few bells longer, while her mind churned restlessly over the vestiges of torture that she had briefly glimpsed.
In opening her friends infected shoulder, Klynzahr's scalpel had disturbed ills that ran deeper than any abscess and spilled them out freely like an oozing puss. Feeling helpless, she ran her hand over Eva's feverish head. Some things lay far beyond her ability to heal.
Yet none of it had prepared her for the things that Evangeline had uttered under her hand. Broken sobbing, screams of terror and curses to make a void-sent cringe would never have drawn a second thought from the Roegadyn, but the broken and half-delirious confessions that poured from Eva left her deeply shaken.
Very cautiously the Sea Wolf drew herself closer to Eva's feverish form, trying to keep herself balanced on the thin strip of remaining bed. If she closed her eyes, the sea wolf knew she would begin to roll and send either herself or Evangeline to the floor. So she resigned herself to watching her injured friend for a few bells longer, while her mind churned restlessly over the vestiges of torture that she had briefly glimpsed.
In opening her friends infected shoulder, Klynzahr's scalpel had disturbed ills that ran deeper than any abscess and spilled them out freely like an oozing puss. Feeling helpless, she ran her hand over Eva's feverish head. Some things lay far beyond her ability to heal.
