Varai groaned as he slowly sat
upright. His side stung, and his hand instinctively went to grasp his sword,
but when he found nothing behind him and instead realised he was in a bed, and
indoors, he began to consciously recall the most recent events. Though they had
seemed to be a terrible nightmare, he could not deny even the slightest that
they were true, and he certainly had the wounds to prove it should he try.
His head swam, and he hunched over
forwards and grasped it in his hands to steady himself. A moment later, after
the dizziness had passed, he looked down at himself. He wasn't wearing his
Vankar - in fact all he was clad in was clean bandaging. He grunted and looked
around himself. 'I must be in Sashir's new place,' he thought to himself
as he noted the cloths and metal tools hanging from the edge of the shelf above
his bed, and the jars of leaves and herbs stood upon it. 'I'm surprised I
made it.'
He turned and dropped his feet to
the floor, and as he glanced to the table beside him, he found bread and water.
He lifted the bread immediately, his stomach was growling like a wild animal
and as he gradually remembered what happened to him in better detail, he knew
he needed the energy more than he ever had before.
There was little in the room with
him, he noticed: a few chairs, a couple of small tables, and a wardrobe. Still
eating the bread, he slowly rose to his feet and started towards the latter.
Being Sashir's home, there would surely be a suitably-fitting Vankar hanging up
inside, and he was sure that they had disposed of his own. It was likely too
torn up to be wearable anyway.
He opened the door - noticing as
he did so the strong purple bruising all up his arm - and found his assumption
was correct. He placed the small loaf down on a nearby chair and removed the
garment which appeared closest to his size. He struggled into it in his current
state, despite the standard loose fit, but it didn't take him too long or cause
him much pain, and once it was tied about his waist and clasped at his chest,
he felt no lingering discomfort.
He looked into the wardrobe again,
this time searching for his belongings, but as he noticed that there was
nothing in there but more black clothing, the door opened.
"You're up!" The young
girl, Kari, grinned up at him.
He smiled warmly back, as he was
ever fond of the child, and nodded. "I am, thanks to you, I bet."
Her cheeks flushed gently. "I
didn't do much. Miss Sashir was the one that did the work." Her face
dropped to one of concern. "There was so much blood, Mister Varai...what
happened?"
His face fell as he began to
search for words. His eyes moved away from the girl's sad face to better focus
his mind, but fortunately, before he had the chance to put a sentence together,
another figure appeared behind her.
"How do you feel?" The
healer asked.
He grinned thankfully. "Fine,
now," he replied, but quickly noting no good humour in the woman's aged
face, his own became guilty. He knew what she wanted to know.
"What happened?” She asked,
her eyes narrowing slightly, though in concerned interest rather than anger as
she folded her arms.
He sighed heavily in defeat and
looked away from her in shame, giving in immediately. “I got caught up in a
civilian fight,” he began, his voice having grown thicker. “I was trying to
break it up, though I don't know what it was about, but I got caught by one of
their blades and couldn’t react fast enough. They killed many before I got
there – I managed to save most of them by becoming a distraction as they ran
away, but they still killed managed to kill others who weren’t fast enough.”
Sashir watched him for a long moment
with no change in her posture or expression. She stared steadily as his frown
deepened, eyes closed and fist clenched. She spoke plainly: “You’re lying.”
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