Raising a Hero

Chapter 8

I woke up in the morning with stiff, red hands, not quite blistering, but raw red as though I scraped my palms against the asphalt and twice as painful.

Milly tittered quite a bit, but seemed to sense my embarrassment, for she didn't say anything as she smoothed an herb and lard balm over my hands and bandaged them up with linen strips.

"I don't suppose you can heal yourself?" said Hal from where he stood by the counter, helping with breakfast since we had so many mouths to feed.

I shook my head. Trust me, I had tried. I didn't want to be even more of an embarrassing weakling than I already was.

Gus full on scowled on seeing my bandaged hands when he came in. I had been given water-free tasks, such as setting out the plates and sweeping.

"Oh sweetie, don't you ever smile?" I asked. "You're never going to get a girlfriend being such a grouch."

"Who said anything about getting a girlfriend?" he snapped. "And don't you have more things to worry about? What the hell, can't you heal yourself? Budge off, I'll do your work."

"No, you won't," said Milly, bumping him back with a hip. "You're even more useless than she is. Get some meat on your bones and then we'll talk."

"I can do what she's doing just fine!"

"And set off a hubbaloo when superstitious idiots see your eyes? You can help well enough back here for today. Kitchen's needs help cleaning anyway, it's disgusting."

Grouchier than ever, he settled down to his own task well enough, grumbling so low in his throat it sounded like a kind of weird purr.

Hal looked on it all with his warm smile.

Even with my hands bandaged, I managed to do my share of work. The weather had cleared, so we got the travelers on their way and were able to close down temporarily for lunch for yet another cleaning of the inn (Hal was a stickler for cleanliness, had something to do with his dedication to keeping his establishment pest free). But by the time we were done with that, my hands were burning and throbbing something fierce to the point they refused to do more than twitch when I tried to grip something.

My eyes watered with more than just frustration.

"What happened to my body being new and improved?" I growled to the air, hoping Nehcor heard somewhere. Didn't being like Methusalah make me just a little more durable? Was the soap they make in this world really that harsh? Lye and animal fat and all.

Hal was the one who spotted me near tears in the corner and took my hands in his warm palms. The bandages were already filthy from use.

"Have Milly redress them and only do what you can tonight. Taking orders. Carrying out food. Don't push yourself."

I sniffed, despite my efforts. "I'm sorry, Hal."

"For what?"

"For being a lame horse."

"Goodness, a horse? And here I thought you were a maiden with the fairest skin to grace the earth. So fair and delicate, in fact, that I'm surprised it held out until now."

I put my smarting hands to my chest. "It was all the laundry yesterday. All the soap." Freaking medieval lye soap. Secretly, my legs and feet were smarting too from when I'd stomped about in the tub, but not nearly as bad as my hands. And if I could avoid looking more delicate, the better.

"I figured. From now on, let's avoid that."

"No! I got to toughen up. I can't just—laundry is one of the biggest chores!"