Book One – Chapter 18

“Shaman, I need you to prepare the girl,” Bubs placed the ruined boot and scissors on the tray. “We need to fix the right leg. It will take more than an hour, possibly two. Use potions and salves. Dull the pain and make sure she doesn’t wake. Ensure basic circulation. Then treat the left leg for frost.”

There was something very wrong in how Bubs spoke to the shaman. How he commanded the thing inside her.

As uncanny as it was, it revealed a hierarchy and familiarity between them. Bubs was in charge, as it seemed, but the lack of explanations in his orders showed his confidence in the shaman. He did not tell her what he would do during those one or two hours. That meant she already knew. He also did not specify which medicines to use, but expected her to decide for herself. Whether they truly intended to save the human or not, Bubs delegated the shaman like he trusted her. Like he was used to work with her. With it.

When he finished with his orders, Bubs got back onto the middle stool and finally turned toward the selder. “What about him?” he said. “Not injured, you said?”

The borman’s answer came delayed. You could almost see him processing each sentence, one after the other. It took him time to move past Bubs’ commands to the shaman and realise that there was also a question aimed at him.

By the time he spoke, the shaman had already gotten up to collect a first pair of bottles from the shelves. She moved calmly, but with a quiet sense of purpose.

“No wounds,” the borman said. “Only rest.”

While the shaman drifted about the room, the borman stayed where he was, next to the human’s bed. Yu, by contrast, stepped forward to look at the selder — though he kept his five-step distance from the borman and steered well clear of the shelves and cupboards, to avoid to the shaman.

While short, the selder had the lean proportions of a climber: long and wiry limbs wrapped in layers of oilcloth and knotted wool. His body sagged, twisted from being carried too long; tail crimped awkwardly under one leg, one arm pinned tight against his chest. His pale fur clung to him in matted tangles, rubbed thin in some places. Patches of it had come away, others were streaked with mud and blood.