Ghost's Sight Read Free Page B

the side of the table.
    “He’s unconscious, little one. Let’s get his leg dealt with as quickly as we can, and you can make the tea for him afterward.” The Witch looked at Ghost until he moved back to the table.
    It only took a moment for the Witch to assess the damage. She turned to Ghost, her voice crisp. “Get the pot of bone fibers, and the vinegar. Some honey, too.” She turned to open a small but ornate chest, taking out the gods’ light and a thin sharp knife. “He twisted when he fell. It’s a difficult break, but I can heal it. I’m going to open the skin so I can see the break properly. If you can’t handle it, say so.”
    Mother was as pale as anyone so tawny could be, but the man took a breath and nodded, much to Ghost’s surprise. He was sure he was mistaken, but he thought for a fleeting instant that there had been fear in the tall man’s eyes. Ghost looked down at the small pot he had taken from the shelf, shaking off the moment as he went to the kitchen to get the honey and the flask of vinegar.
    By the time Ghost returned, the Witch had opened Gerry’s leg and was spreading the muscle away from the bone. She looked up at him. “Good. Hold this open for me.”
    Ghost complied, holding back the muscle while the Witch sprinkled some of the fibers and picked up her gods’ light. The dot of light fused the fibers, knitting the bone as the Witch twisted Gerry’s foot to align it. Mother made a gagging sound, and Ghost looked up at the man in surprise. He would have thought the hunter was made of sterner stuff. Ghost bit back an urge to reassure Mother. That would mean talking to the man, and Ghost was not ready to acknowledge Mother that much.
    Losing all sense of time as he always did when the Witch was healing someone, Ghost’s attention focused on the way her hands moved, sure and deft. The thin, fine-boned fingers were as steady as the stones of the walls that surrounded the Witch’s house. Her fierce eyes were narrowed in utter concentration as she rebuilt the bone and reinforced it, the dot of light never wavering in its dance. It was only when Mother let out a small cry of relief that Ghost was dragged back into the world, the last of the afternoon sun already fading. He looked at Mother, momentarily bewildered as he felt the cramping in his fingers that meant he had been at this too long.
    The Witch looked at Ghost but said nothing, putting the gods’ light down for a moment. “Hold like that, little one, just a moment more.” She broke open a packet of linen, cutting a piece with her sharp knife and dipping it in vinegar to clean the wound. When she was satisfied, she patted Ghost’s hand. “Let go, now, so I can close up.”
    Ghost watched her as he wiped off his bloody fingers, massaging them to ease the stiffness. The Witch used the gods’ light to close the incision she had made. Once the skin was closed to her satisfaction, she wiped the area down with more vinegar, followed by some of the hot water. “Paint the area with the honey, and bind his leg, little one. Then make the tea for him.”
    The Witch gestured to Mother. The two of them walked to the kitchen, Ghost not bothering to listen as he put a coating of honey over the red line on Gerry’s leg. He was more interested in Gerry, in the strong line of Gerry’s jaw, the strength in those hands as they gripped the table, preparing for the pain to come. There had been courage there, which called to Ghost in a way he found unfamiliar, yet exciting.
    Ghost wrapped Gerry’s leg in a loose bandage of clean linen, more to keep the honey from smearing everywhere than anything else. Ghost knew with a certainty that defied reason that the gods’ light had fused the bone properly. With a night’s rest, the hunter would be fine. Gerry’s leg would ache for a bit, and he would limp for a quarter-moon, but even that would pass, or so Ghost’s Sight had shown.
    Ghost paused for a moment in clearing away what he had not used,