"Nicely done, healer, very nicely done." Darian examined the detailed suture work where the shredded membrane had been reattached to the bony extensors on the wing. The tissue showed definite signs of regeneration, with minimal scarring. Strong, gentle hands slowly probed the length of the anterior stabilizer, searching for any sign of further displacement. There was none.
T'marek watched nervously as the Cygnan examined his dragon. Both brown and rider had been nearly comatose when the two healers entered the infirmary. A combination of confusion, despair and moderate sedation created that condition. Now, they were marginally alert, aware of what was happening and of each other. "Why cam I heaw him?" the rider asked in a distorted voice. "Whaz wong wid me?"
"There's nothing wrong, T'marek," a soft, female voice comforted. "You've both had quite a time. It will be alright. You'll hear each other again, soon." She looked up at the winged healer, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. It was horrible to have a dragon and rider unable to hear each other. If they hadn't kept them together at all times since their return to the Weyr, the brown would likely have suicided. As it was, his rider looked more dead than alive.
Having completed his check of the wing, Darian was now probing the immobilized foreleg. Great whirling eyes regarded him with more curiosity than concern as he verified the tautness and sterility of the bindings. The healer seemed unaware of the massive head, his attention riveted to the alignment of the shattered humerus. He was slightly startled when the soft nose nudged him.
He couldn't explain why, but Darian felt a tremendous sense of relief and contentment when looking into the brown's multi-faceted eyes. It had been an excellent decision to help these two, regardless of the consequences to himself and his companions. This beast was nothing like his unpredictable black, but he still sensed a kinship, not only between the dragons, but between the brown and himself. It was an unsettling but strangely satisfying sensation. The avion's momentary daydream was interrupted by a faint exclamation behind him. He looked down at Selana and the brownrider.
"This is amazing," she observed, a surprised smile on her face. "Look at this!"
Darian stepped down from the platform he had been using to examine the dragon.
Kneeling beside the female, he saw what she was remarking about. The rider's arm appeared perfectly straight, almost normal except for the massive amount of suturing from the middle of the upper arm to above the shoulder. She was delicately running a finger along the stitch line below the left shoulder blade.
"Dom wowwy aboud me," T'marek mumbled. "Dage caew ob Gewph." His eyes focused on the avion, widened as he fought to see clearly, then rapidly clouded. The brownrider was fighting to gain full control of his faculties, but a steady diet of diluted fellis juice had drastically reduced his ability to function rationally for any length of time. The remnants of a fever complicated the problem.
Selana ran her hand across his left cheek, smiling at him. She was careful to avoid his lips and chin, not wanting to strain the torn tissues on the right. Her melodic voice eased his worry slightly. "Kelth is going to be fine. He's young and strong and healing nicely. You will too if you just relax and let us take care of you."
The brownrider gazed up at her. In a different time, her tender smile and radiant eyes might have provoked a rapid response in him. Right now, however, he only knew that he couldn't hear his wonderful brown, and no woman in all Pern was that important. Whatever they felt was wrong with him, Kelth was more important. They should be taking care of Kelth. "Dage caew ob my dwagom," he repeated weakly.
"We are, brownrider," a masculine tone reassured him. "And we're taking care of you, too. Kelth is as worried about you as you are about him. We can't leave both of you alone."
T'marek wasn't sure he could follow that reasoning, but he was too tired and too confused to argue. He groaned his distress and closed his eyes.
The Cygnan returned his attention to the injured shoulder. He examined the bone structure as best he could through the substantial bruises. Despite the discoloration and swelling, it was obvious that the joint had been rebuilt well. "Incredible," he agreed. "Oldive isn't a healer, he's a magician."
"What do you mean?" Selana asked.
"You saw what this shoulder looked like," the avion explained. "I wouldn't have believed the arm could be saved, let alone the shoulder rebuilt. This looks like he could regain full function."
Selana smiled, thinking back to the events of that unbelievable night. She had known the summons would be a severe inconvenience to the masterhealer, but she now felt vindicated in her decision. Certainly, her skills weren't up to this level. As she recalled, a second set of hands had played a major role in treating the critically injured rider. "Master Oldive is the very best," she informed her companion. "Now, though, he has someone nearly as skillful to help him."
Darian turned to her, his head tilted. "Oh? I'd like to meet this person. I could learn a great deal from him."
The Pernese healer laughed softly, reaching out to touch the avion's hand. Her smile was both cryptic and engaging. "You already have, Darian. Between Oldive's reconstruction of the bones and your rerouting of the blood supply, T'marek couldn't have been in better hands. I wasn't even needed here."
Smiling, the blackrider continued to check the damaged shoulder and arm, carefully testing a few of the stitches. He appreciated the young woman's confidence but felt it somewhat overstated. "I'm not even in Master Oldive's class," he corrected her. "The man is a true master. I'm barely an apprentice. And you," he stopped, turning to look directly at her, "my little one, are always needed." His hand closed over hers momentarily, then moved away to resume probing T'marek's sutures. Darian worked his way down the arm, checking a separate group of stitches just below the elbow. Satisfied that the limb was progressing, he shifted his gaze to the rider's face.
"This will scar rather badly," he informed Selana, who had to consciously move her attention from the Cygnan to the brownrider. She forced herself to concentrate on the severe lacerations her fellow healer was indicating.
"Facial tissues heal fast, but they tend to heal ugly. With all of this damage," he traced the wound stretching from just under the right ear to the corner of the eye, "he'll probably have a substantial scar. Fortunately, his hair will cover a good bit of it. This, however,... "
The healer carefully took T'marek's chin in his fingers, turning it to open the right jaw and cheek to Selana's eyes. He pointed to the sutures extending from mid-cheek, across the corner of the mouth, to the point of the chin. A second line of sutures traced the length of the fractured right jaw. Fortunately, the rider had not lost any teeth. "... is going to be fully exposed. I suspect it will be rather livid. There's a full blood supply to the area, and no realistic way to immobilize it."
Selana nodded her understanding. The moving skin would stretch the sutures, increasing the size and depth of the scar tissue. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be much they could do about it. Most dragonriders eventually had Threadscores on their faces. The pencil-thin scars actually added to the rugged mystique of the dragonpeople. These scars, though, would be grotesque. It was sad, she thought, to see so handsome a man disfigured. "That first night," she remarked, "after we had finished, you said something about being able to repair some of the scarring. What did you mean?"
Darian nodded energetically, still staring at the facial wounds. In his concentration, he failed to notice that his lower lip was curled under his upper teeth. The elongated eye teeth would have been unnerving, had his patient been awake. Selana, however, did notice. He wasn't joking when he said he was a carnivore. "Skin grafting," he replied. "It should work here."
"How do you do that?"
The Cygnan's eyes narrowed and he turned to the female. "You really don't know?"
She shook her head, lips pursed in a half-frown. "I don't have any idea of what you're talking about."
Carefully, in great detail, Darian explained the process to the young healer. Her questions made it apparent that the procedure might be a bit more difficult than he was accustomed to, considering the type of equipment he would have to work with. It took several minutes before the two realized they had an attentive audience. The winged physician reached up and rubbed the soft nose breathing on him.
