_Go

but it was too late. She thought he must be sewing up the hole, whatever it was, but it felt much worse. She wanted to throw up.
"It's the head, mostly," said the surgeon; Paks opened her eyes. Kefer was there, staring at her, and Arcolin stood by the tent flap. Tent?
"I thought we were on the wall," she said. The surgeon turned to her.
"You were. You'd been hit on the head, and you passed out while I was working on your leg."
"Oh." She couldn't remember anything of that, just being on the wall, and fighting, and strange lights.
"Was there a blue light?" she asked doubtfully. "And a yellow one later?"
"Yes." Arcolin stepped nearer. He was scowling. "That was clerics—theirs first, then ours."
"Clerics?" Paks felt even more confused. She had never seen any priest or Marshal make strange lights.
"Never mind that now." He turned to the surgeon. "How long?"
The surgeon shrugged. "A good night's sleep, I expect. Maybe a day." He brought Paks a mug. As her vision blurred with numbwine, she saw the surgeon follow Arcolin and Kefer from the tent.
She woke to broad daylight. The surgeon, busy with others, saw her test the tender lump on her head.
"How is it?"
"Fine."
"Try moving around." Paks sat up and winced as her bandaged arm and leg twinged. But these were minor pains; she could move easily. "Go on and stand." She had no trouble with that, either, and he sent her out. "Get a new helmet—size or so too large, and use extra padding for a day or so. If you get dizzy, or your eyes blur, come back at once. And eat before you go back on duty."
Outside, their camp was in turmoil. Paks could see more troops—Westland men—marching into Sibili through the breached wall. She wondered why they weren't h