1109: The Hamr and the Chain – Part 3 1109: The Hamr and the Chain – Part 3 “Poetry, is it?” Oliver said, sighing.
“Well, a poem could be as short as four lines.
It could be the simplest of taphors, one could take it at face value, and be completely unmoved by it.
But as soon the eyes begin to see deeper, they see things that the writer might not even have intended, things that aren’t there – and thus does the heart stir,” Verdant said.
“Stop!” Alia said, she was bright red by now.
“Don’t make it worse, Lord Idris, I beg of you…” “It is a re bandage on a hand, Alia,” Verdant said.
Even he seed to have lost his patience now.
“Snatch it off, and be done with it.” With Verdant telling her to hurry, there were no more corners for Alia to back into.
With her hand moving as fast as a cat’s, she clawed at the bandaged, and pulled it all off in a single swift and sudden jerk.
The bandage caught, and the fingers and thumb well pulled.
It was enough of a wrench that it pulled Oliver sideways in his chair.
“By the Gods!” Pauline said, covering her hand with her mouth.
“Alia!” Lady Blackthorn said, horrified.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stamred, seeing how much of her strength she had ended up using on fingers that they thought would be broken.
Oliver grimaced ever so slightly.
The pain wasn’t great, given that the wound was still healing, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it would have been if those fingers had been broken.
He shook his head.
“You’ve more work to do as a field nurse, I can tell you that, Alia.
Well, what do you think?” He held up his hand for all to see, and he wiggled his fingers.
There were scars on the skin, where bones had once pierced through, but there were no longer any open wounds.
Looking at it, no doctor in the world would have guessed that it had been broken so recently.
Months ago, so might have supposed.
“D-does it hurt?” Lasha said.
She was at his side now, and Verdant had stepped forward too, a troubled and icy look on his face, as he glowered down at Alia.
“I-I beg your forgiveness, Lord Idris,” Alia said, kneeling before him.
It seed to Oliver, at tis, that Verdant Idris was the only person that the willy little attendant truly feared.
“My forgiveness?” Verdant said, incredulous.
“Not the forgiveness of the wounded man that you so mistreated?
Not the forgiveness of the Lord with whom your Lady has ford such a close alliance?
You have tread muddy feet in halls that you should not have stepped into, attendant.
It will be left to you to clean up your own ss.” “F-forgive , Ser Patrick,” Alia stamred, still kneeling, not looking him in the eye.
“This is ridiculous,” Oliver sighed.
“Can you not hear them out there, Lasha?
They’ve already begun their mock battles.
We are wasting ti here.
Can you not see that it is fine?” “Is it still fine, even after..?” Lasha said, nodding towards Alia carefully, without throwing her further into the fire than she was already in.
“It is still fine,” Oliver assured her.
“See?” He clenched his hand into a fist, and he wiggled his fingers for what felt like the hundredth ti.
“Truly…?” She still seed doubtful.
“How can that be?” Oliver shrugged.
“Am I allowed no secrets?” The Blackthorn Lady looked thoroughly rebuked at that, for she had no more words to say.
“…It does seem to be in order.
Alia, would you make sure?” “?” Alia said, still kneeling on the floor beside Oliver’s chair, as upset as Oliver had ever seen her.
“But I just…” “You made a mistake,” Lasha said.
“Oliver does not bla you.
You are new to such training, and I imagine you were nervous.” “I shouldn’t be… I have sat the Field dicine course for many years,” she said.
“But practising it in the control environnt of the classroom is rather different from doing it in the middle of enemy territory,” Oliver said, consoling her in a manner that was almost lazy, as he parroted a line that he’d heard a thousand tis before.
She must have realized that, for she didn’t look exactly grateful for it.
“Well then, little miss Hobgoblin, here are my fingers, do examine them without snapping them off in another fit of rage,” Oliver said.
“Fine,” Alia said, her anger overcoming her earlier excitent.
Verdant took a reluctant step back, giving her room, though he still didn’t seem to have forgiven her earlier blunder, even if he was – in part – to bla for it.
Carefully, Alia took Oliver’s hand.
She felt his pinky finger, looking for an abnormality in its alignnt.
And then she did the sa for the next finger along, nodding to herself as she did so, the very picture of diligence.
It seed that finally she had relaxed into her training.
“You’ve cold hands,” Oliver comnted.
“For a cold heart, I imagine.” He was in sothing of a rush himself, and disdainful of the whole endeavour, but still he couldn’t help himself from making the remark.
Ingolsol taunted him into it.
He knew what the results of the remark would be even before he’d delivered it.
Imdiately, Alia’s eyes flickered towards his, and at an even quicker speed, she reddened.
Now Oliver couldn’t hide his smile.
It was the sort of weakness in a loud woman like Alia that just couldn’t help but be funny.
She seed to be conflicted.
Wondering whether to put distance between them, or whether to continue with her examination.
Now her breathing was coming more rapidly, as she grew more flustered, and her emotions spiked.
That didn’t help matters at all.
She was far from being the picture of refinent.
Now too, she was gripping Oliver’s fingers with the sort of strength that seed to be looking to tear them off.
He allowed it from her without comnt, even as her nails dug in.
His was the strength of the Third Boundary, after all, even with a recently broken hand, there was little that the attendant could do to trouble him.
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