Zedd felt the wetness of his blood-soaked robes against his knees as he knelt beside her. She pushed his hands away with one of hers. The other held her guts from spilling out of a ripping wound in her abdomen.

“Please. There are others who should be helped.”

Zedd lifted an eyebrow to her ashen face. A fine gold chain through her hair held a blue stone against her forehead. The blue stone matched her eyes so, that it almost made her look to have three eyes. The wizard thought he recognized the stone, and wondered if it could be true, or only a bauble bought on a whim. He had not seen one wearing the Stone as a calling in a very long time. Surely one this young couldn’t know what it proclaimed.

“I am wizard Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander. And who are you, child, to give me orders?”

Her face paled even more. “Forgive me, wizard…”

She calmed as Zedd touched his fingers to her forehead. The pain caught his breath so sharply that he jerked his fingers away. He had to struggle to keep the tears of hurt from showing.

He knew without a doubt now: she wore the Stone in calling. The Stone, to match the color of her eyes, and worn over the forehead, as if the mind’s eye, was a talisman to proclaim her inner vision.

A hand snatched at the back of his robes, tugging.

“Wizard!” came a sour voice from behind. “You will tend to me first!” Zedd turned to a face that matched the voice, and maybe outdid it a little. “I am Lady Ordith Condatith de Dackidvich, House of Burgalass. This wench is nothing but my body servant. Had she been as quick as she should have been, I wouldn’t be suffering so! I could have been killed, as slow as she was! You will tend to me first! I could expire at any moment!”

Zedd could tell without touching her that her injuries were minor. “Forgive me, my lady.” He made a show of putting his fingers to her head. As he thought: a hard bruise to her ribs, a few lesser to her legs, and a small gash on her arm, requiring at most a stitch or two.

“Well?” She clutched at the silver ruffles at her neck. “Wizards,” she muttered. “Next to worthless if you want to know the truth of it. And these guards! I think they were asleep at their posts! Lord Rahl shall hear of this! Well? What of my injuries?”

“My lady, I’m not sure there is anything I can do for you.”

“What!” She snatched the neck of his robe and gave it a snug yank. “You had better see that there is, or I will see that Lord Rahl has your head on a pike! See what good your lazy magic does you then!”

“Of course, my lady. I will endeavor to do my best.” He ripped the small gash in the dark maroon satin fabric of the sleeve, making it a huge, hanging flag, then put a hand back on the shoulder of the woman with the blue stone. She moaned as he blocked some of her pain and gave her strength. Her ragged breathing evened. He kept his hand on her, trickling in a little magic of reassurance and comfort. Lady Ordith shrieked. “My dress! You’ve ruined it!”

“Sorry, my lady, but we can’t risk the wound festering. I would rather lose the dress than the arm. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well, yes, I guess…”

Ten or fifteen stitches should do it,” he said to the sturdily built healer bent over between the two women on the floor. Her hard, blue-gray eyes glanced to the small wound and then back to the wizard.

“I am sure you would know best, Wizard Zorander,” she said in an even voice, betraying only in her gaze to him that she understood his true intent.

“What! You are going to let this ox of a midwife do your work for you?”

“My lady, I’m an old man. I’ve never had any talent for sewing, and my hands shake something awful. I’m afraid I would do more damage than I would repair, but if you insist, I will try my best.

“No,” she sniffed. “Let the ox do it.”

“Very well.” He looked up to the healer. No emotion touched her features, but splotches of red colored her cheeks. “I fear there is only one hope for her other injuries, considering the pain she is in. Do you have any wattle root in those big pockets of yours?”

She gave a little frown of puzzlement. “Yes, but…”

“Good,” he cut her off. “I think two cubes should be sufficient.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “Two?”

“Don’t you try to be skimpy with me!” Lady Ordith screeched. “If there isn’t enough to go around, then someone of lesser importance will just have to go short! You give me the full dose!”

“Very well.” Zedd glanced up at the healer. “Administer her the full dose. Three cubes. Shredded, not whole.”

The healers eyes opened a little wider, and she incredulously mouthed, shredded! Zedd squinted and nodded his insistence. The corners of her mouth curled up in a tightly controlled smile.

Wattle root would take away the pain of the minor injuries, but it needed only be swallowed whole. One small cube was all that was needed. Shredded, and that much of it, would set Lady Ordith’s plumbing afire. The good lady was going to be spending the better part of the next week in her privy.

“What is your name, my dear?” he asked the healer.

“Kelley Hallick.”

Zedd let out a tired sigh. “Kelley, are there any others that are beyond your considerable talents?”

“No, sir. Middea and Annalee are finishing with the last of them.”

Then will you please take Lady Ordith somewhere where she will not… where she will be more comfortable while you tend to her.”

Kelley glanced down at the woman Zedd had a comforting hand to, to the rip across her abdomen, and back up to his eyes. “Of course, Wizard Zorander. You look to be very tired. If you would come to me later, I will fix you a stenadine tea.” The small smile touched the corners of her mouth again.

Zedd couldn’t keep a grin from his own face. Besides restoring alertness, stenadine tea was also used to give lovers stamina. By the glint in her eye, he judged her to be a fine brewer of stenadine tea.

He gave Kelley a wink. “Perhaps I will.” Any other time he might have given it serious consideration—Kelley was a handsome woman—but right now that was just about the farthest thing from his mind.

“Lady Ordith, what is your body servant’s name?”

“Jebra Bevinvier. And a worthless girl she is, too. Lazy and impudent.”

“Well, you will not be burdened with her inadequate service any longer. She is going to need a long time to recover, and you are shortly going to be leaving the palace.”

“Leaving? What do you mean leaving?” She put her nose in the air. “I have no intention of leaving.”

The palace is no longer safe for a lady of your importance. You will have to leave for your own protection. As you said yourself, the guards are asleep half the time. You will have to be on your way.”

“Well, I simply have no intention of…”

“Kelley”—he gave her a firm look—“please help Lady Ordith to a place where you can tend to her.”

Kelley was dragging the Lady Ordith off like a load of wash before she had a chance to cause any more trouble. Zedd turned a warm smile to Jebra and brushed some of her short, sandy hair back off her face. She held one arm across her grievous wound. Zedd had managed to halt most of the bleeding, but that wasn’t going to save her; what was outside had to be put back in its place inside.

“Thank you, sir. I’m feeling much better now. If you could help me to my feet, I will be out of your way.”

“Lie still, child,” he said softly. “We must talk.”

With a hard glance, he moved onlookers back. Soldiers of the First File had only to see that one brief look and they were already pushing people away.

Her lip trembled as her breast rose and fell more rapidly. She managed a little nod. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

“I won’t lie to you, child. Your wound is at the limit of my talents were I well rested. You don’t have the time for me to rest. If I don’t do something, you will die. If I try, I might hasten the end.”