Trying to manipulate the wisps in one's body after a painful surgical operation had begun was an agonizing experience Lori never wanted to repeat again. It also revealed how little she actually knew about the interactions of lightningwisps and her body. The first painful lesson was that the ones that let her move her arm were distinct from the ones that let her feel her arm. She wasted a lot of time finding out the difference.
Even when she managed it, it was surprisingly hard to maintain. Her previous experience was that once your limb goes numb from you taking the lightningwisps there and moving them someplace else to use them—for example, for throwing lightning—it took some time for the lightningwisps to replenish and sensation to return. Her connection to the core, however, mean that magic constantly caused the wisps in her body to replenish and equalize, so she had to constantly manipulate the wisps in her arm to maintain numbness, which meant that pain would occasionally break through.
The plate on the device that was restraining her arm was apparently there in case she made some kind of mistake doing exactly that, and was meant to draw the resultant lightning to the metal and into the ground and not, for example, the doctor holding the copper scalpel.
If nothing else, the exercise gave her something to focus on, especially when she wasn't able to restrain a new surge of lightningwisps and feeling returned. Between that and Rian, her mind was quite occupied.
"Still think you shouldn't have asked to exchange pointers with Shana about how to do magic?" Rian said as she tried her best to break his hand solely with the grip of her left.
"Shanalorre," she corrected through gritted teeth. "Are you still on that absurd idea?"
"You could have at least asked," he said. "You could really use knowing how to heal right around now."
"Because the entire idea is nonsensical," Lori said. "In addition to the fact she's another Binder, and has absolutely no reason to teach me anything, and several reasons not to, she's a savant. They don't know what they're doing until they've been properly educated and are taught the basics, and sometimes—" she hissed as sensation returned at an inopportune time, and cut off her line of thought to pull back the lightningwisps.
"Sometimes?" Rian prompted.
"Sometimes they need to learn more advanced principles first as well," Lori said. "Considering she's a completely uneducated wild savant, the possibility of her teaching me anything is less than nothing."
"You should have still tried," Rian said.
"Your delusional optimism is amusing only up to a point."
"You too," he said dryly. "Does it hurt?"
"Obviously," she hissed, needing to pull the lightningwisps from her arm again.
"Good. Maybe this'll keep you from trying to ride any more rocks."
"It was an accident!" she snapped.
"Accident or not, we'd still have a dead Binder," he snapped right back. "Seriously, you have one job: don't die! How hard is that to do? Everyone else is managing it!"
"Are you questioning my authority?" she said threateningly, or at least as threateningly as she could on her back, one arm strapped down, and holding his hand.
"Your authority is undisputed, I'm questioning your survival instincts!"
"I wasn't supposed to fall off!"
"Well, what did you think would happen when you sat down on a moving rock and became the highest thing on it? It's not exactly the most stable platform!"
Lori glared at him, and he glared right back, though they were interrupted with another twinge of pain erupted from her arm.
It wasn't enough she was having her arm cut up. It wasn't enough her right side ached and her shoulder was throbbing terribly. It wasn't just that Rian seemed to be actively mocking her today.
On top of all that, she was hungry. They'd left their lunch behind, after all.
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Eventually, after more time and pain than she thought was reasonable, a small copper bowl that had been filled with pieces of leaves, wood and stones—how had she not noticed she'd fallen on so much rock?—and another burning wash of antiseptic solution—something else they were running out of—her arm was bandaged and her partially dislocated shoulder was snapped back in place—that explained why it hurt so much without being broken—Lori was so exhausted she just slept, her arm held elevated for medical reasons.
She woke up to pain as the right side of her body continued to throb, and she resigned herself to widespread bruising. Also, someone had been trying to strip her naked in her sleep.
"No," she said flatly as the woman with pale, lightly pink-tinged hair—she vaguely recognized her as one of the medics that had come in with the people from River's Fork—started taking off her shoes.
"Great Binder," the woman said, her northern accent mild and clipped, almost brusque. "My name is Daising. We need to clean you and get you changed, or it will inhibit your recovery. Someone provided clothes for you, although if these are insufficient, Lord Rian says to inform us so and open your rooms so he may recover other garments for you."
"I can get them myself," Lori insisted, attempting to sit up.
Her right hip protested with everything short of actual violence, with other rightward parts of her body expressing their solidarity.
As she lay back down on the warm, slightly sweaty bed completely of her own volition and no other reason, Lori supposed it was about time she allowed the people of her demesne to serve her by attending to her whims.
However, she drew the line at nudity.
"My trousers stay on," she said.
"If you wish, I could bring you the skirt and you can put that on before removing your trousers, Great Binder? They're staining the bed."
Lori blinked and looked down, realizing her trousers were stained with dirt and mud. Ah, that must have splashed on from washing her arm. She looked down at her shirt, realizing it had bloodstains on it. That was never going to come off, not with the soaps they had here. Taken altogether, she was a bit of a mess. She supposed it was time to change clothes in any case. It had been some days.
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"What time is it?" she asked.
"The sun is setting, Great Binder," the medic said. "People are putting away work and going to the baths." That last was a bit too pointed.
"Yes, yes, I understand," she grumbled. "Where are the clothes?"
They had been folded on a stool next to the bed. Lori had to wonder how many stools had been made by the carpenters, how much time that had taken from putting roofs on houses, and why hadn't she gotten one? Not that she needed one, since she didn't entertain in her bedroom and her bed was fine to sit on, but it was the principle of the thing!
Still, the blouse seemed like it would fit, and the skirt could be adjusted for her waist. Really, all that was missing was socks and underwear, and hers were still relatively new.
Lori sighed and started trying to take off her clothes.
It was agonizing. Her time asleep seemed to have allowed most of her right side to become one large bruise, and she needed help getting her shirt off. She kept glancing at the windows, but fortunately no one was peeking through them. Once her shirt was off, the medic helped her wash her upper body with a cloth and a bucket of water. Lori grit her teeth as her injuries were wiped down, then again as her chest wrappings were put back on. Or rather, the wrappings someone had brought. Ugh, she'd have to figure out whose it was so she could return it. She wasn't looking forward to that.
She had to get more help slipping the blouse on. A part of her was pettily glad it was only as comfortable as her own shirt. She also had to get help putting on the skirt. It had been so long since she'd last worn one, she had to be reminded it could be put on over her head. After finally settling it slightly above her waist, she finally undid her trousers, then had to breathe through her nose to try and control the pain as they were pulled off. After that, she had to endure the woman washing her legs, which went up almost uncomfortably high.
Finally, however, the suffering ended, and she was able to lie back down on the bed. It still smelled slightly of sweat, but once she flipped the pillow over to its other side that became tolerable, as the medic folded her clothes and set them aside for later. Then it was time to change her bandage. The blood had dried and parts had scabbed, and Lori had to numb her arm again as the inner bandage had adhered to her wound and had to be tentatively pulled off, which of course hurt. Everything had been hurting. This whole day seemed to be nothing but hurting.
There was more hurting as the wound was washed, even more hurting as antiseptic was used on it, and then a relative twinge of agony as it was wrapped with new bandages, still warm from being boiled. She was also offered some osiel bark for the pain, which she took reluctantly. It was tough to chew, but it did help, a little.
"I also recommend putting ice on your injuries, Great Binder," the medic said. "Though you will need to create the ice. I have some water here, and a mold to form it."
Lori scowled in annoyance. She was tired, hurting, hungry, and now she had to make ice? Well, at least it was going to be used to her benefit.
And she had to admit, the leather bags full of ice on her wound, while initially painful when laid on, felt very nice…
When she woke up again, the medic was taking off the bags of mostly water, and Rian was sitting on the bed opposite her, his legs crossed and balancing a plank of wood, writing with a twig that still smoked slightly. Next to him on the bare wooden bed were three wooden bowls of food, as well as a pitcher of what she could tell was full of waterwisps, and two cups. Between them was a single fat candle, usually kept in reserve in case of a dragon. Most of their fat was used for soap.
For a moment, she just lay there despite her left side feeling numb from lying down on it, staring at her lord, who seemed to not have noticed her attention yet. At some point, someone had pulled a sheet up to her waist.
"What are you doing here?" she said eventually. That caused the medic who'd been straightening her blouse to pause for a moment, before removing her hands.
Rian looked up from his writing board. "You hungry?"
"Obviously," she said. "What are you doing here?"
"My lordly duties," Rian said, setting aside his plank and his twig. "Keeping you from having to talk to people, keeping people from having to talk to you, and keeping you alive."
"You did a terrible job," Lori said.
"Who do you think told medic Daising what she should say to not annoy you?" Rian said, nodding over her and presumably to the medic, who Lori could feel behind her as a void of wisps. "Thank you Daising. Why don't you go home, I'll take it from here. If something happens I'll wake one of the others."
"As you say, Lord Rian," the medic said, and Lori felt her walking away, heard the door open and close.
"Can you sit up?" Rian asked. "I have food here."
"I saw," Lori said. "What makes you think I'll eat it, after your insolence?"
"Because you missed lunch and dinner, same as me," Rian said, "and you're not the type to inconvenience yourself to spite someone else. You prefer it the other way around."
Lori kept glaring at him, then slowly lay down on her back, careful of her right. It still throbbed, but seemed to hurt that little bit less. She sighed as feeling started rushing back to her left. Rian stood, and she watched him warily as he picked up a strangely wide tray and laid it over her legs, where it stood like some kind of table.
"They had this made for people who couldn't get out of bed," he said, "so they can eat. Which bowls do you want?"
"Do you think I've forgotten?" she said. "My sleep wasn't that restful."
"What, me questioning your survival instincts?" Rian said. "Given the stunt you just did, I think I had a legitimate right to question it. If you'd been doing so much work you'd rather die, you should have at least told me about it. I could have done something."
"It was an accident," she repeated insistently.
"A completely avoidable one, from what I heard," Rian said, putting the three bowls on the strange tray, all three with spoons in them. He'd folded up the edges of the bedroll she was lying on so that the tray rested on the table, so it didn't move when she shifted. "Am I sounding like your parents again?"
Yes.
"Yes," she said coldly. "You are not. You serve me."
"And this is how I'm doing it," he said. "By reminding you so much you become sick of it that you're not allowed to risk your life. I can't serve you if you're not alive to serve, Lori."
"This insubordination is service?"
"Well, you are bad about being paranoid for your safety," he said. He pointed. "You haven't even noticed that knife yet."
She turned, following his gaze, and saw her knife, the one he'd insisted she bring along in case of an emergency. Next to it were her utensils.
"It fell off when you did," Rian said. "I suppose you didn't secure it very well. I thought you'd want it brought back to you sooner and not later when you realized it was missing. See? Service. You should probably put that under your pillow or something. Wouldn't want it just lying there tempting people, after all."
She glared at him and reached for the knife.
Agony erupted in her right arm as she remembered her wounds too late. She hissed, and it took her a while to remember to draw out the lightningwisps to numb the pain. That caused her arm to collapse like a dead weight, however, as the muscles in it ceased being able to function under her control.
Rian rounded the bed to her right side, moving aside the stool where the clothes she was wearing had lain as she breathed in phantom pain and anticipation of pain, letting her right arm rest on her chest. "Do you want me to hand it to you?" he said.
She glared at him. "Fine."
He picked it up, and held it to her, handle first. She took it and awkwardly tucked it under her pillow.
"See? Service, you ungrateful pain in the ass. Now, which of the food are you going to eat so I can finally have dinner?"
She glared at him, because she hadn't ordered him to skip dinner until she ate, and what if he was so weak with hunger that he fumbled messily in delivering the food, then struggled to sit up. He wordlessly reached for two more pillows just lying on the bed behind him and tucked them behind her back to help hold her up. They were small and worn, but they helped. She picked a bowl and slid it towards him.
He took it and sat down on the stool, eating a spoonful as she touched her food, judged it was too cold, and began to warm it. Despite the fact the food was likely cold, congealed and unappetizing, he ate it as if it was fresh from the kitchen, and was already halfway finished when she judged her food was warm enough for her, the smell of warm stew filling her nose.
She reached for a spoon and nearly screamed in agony as the injured edge of her right arm struck the wooden tray.
As she leaned back, hissing through her teeth and trying not to shed tears in pain for one too many times that day, Rian put down his empty bowl and picked up one of the bowls she'd just warmed. As she glared at him, he stirred the bowl and took a small spoonful.
"Open your mouth," he said.
"I'm not a child," she said.
He didn't say anything else. Just sat there patiently
Eventually, angrily, she opened her mouth.
She burned her tongue.