Chapter 11. Sister Lemony to the Rescue

ister Lemony whistled softly to herself, blushing when she realized that she was not, in fact, recalling a sacred hymn but was instead reprising the chorus of a particularly dirty drinking song.  She really should spend more time in meditation and less time hanging around with adventurers.  Still, old Brother Mewnort had warned her she had not the patience for monastic life.  He was one of the few teachers she missed from her years at the abbey.

She stopped in her tracks, the snow squelching under her booted feet.  Her eyes had registered something suspicious, something hurt.  Bother.  She was looking forward to finding something fresh and warm to eat among the small gathering of merchants at the center of Yak’s Bend.  Salt pork trail rations did not agree with her and she was starving after the march through the wilderness.

She strode toward the well of snow that had formed around the base of the tree, aware of a pair of familiar black suede boots pointing skyward over its lip. Frowning, she grasped Pendaran’s ankles and heard him groan softly in pain some distance below where his head lay.  Hauling backwards, she was grateful the ice was slick where he had fallen for the rest of him soon emerged into the light. 

“Goodness,” she murmured, immediately placing her hands over his broken ribs and sending her energies into him.  He coughed miserably and managed to get one of his swollen eyes open to gaze up at her.  She considered the ruin of his face sadly.  It was a bit like seeing a beautiful painting torn to shreds.  She placed her palms on his cheeks and concentrated, gratified when the bruises and cuts faded and his winsome good looks re-emerged from the mess.

“Are you better now?” she asked as he lay there looking stunned, his stormy green eyes regarding her with a mixture of confusion and apathy.

“I think so,” he murmured.

“What happened?”

“I was trying to get rid of a stolen necklace,” he replied and gulped in horror, “The fence and his body guards beat me up and took all my money.”

“Well, you know you should not steal,” Lemony replied, “and this is a perfect example of why.”

“Shut up, you nosy little cow,” he barked.  It was odd.  His mouth was vicious but his green eyes were wide with horror.  And then Lemony understood.

“Oh my, Uriel finally got rid of it.”

Pendaran made a strangling noise as he fought to hold his tongue, and failed.  Lemony blushed at his endless stream of swearing and curses.  Her training had certainly never exposed her to those words used in that quantity or in those combinations.  Although, granted, it was a rather creative if not unorthodox usage of the language.  Come to think of it, she had heard something similar the time she had to amputate an infected limb on that sailor.

“Don’t worry.  Over time, she got a lot better at controlling her tongue.  You should have heard her, though, the first time Morisedd really upset her.  I’ve never seen anyone nearly faint under a verbal barrage before.  Sucked the wind right out of his sails, she did.”

Lemony rubbed the down on her scalp as the mesmer staggered to his feet, still spewing his rage at her.  She mused that he was still very handsome in spite of the foulness of his language.  And that she had seldom been compared to so many kinds of animals in a single sentence. 

“Really? Am I that much like a dog?” she asked, “Who’d have thought.”

It occurred to her that Uriel would no longer speak so harshly now.  Smiling, she nodded a polite farewell at the cursing mesmer and excused herself.