“You wanted to see me?” Damarys asked as she caught up with Arjana.

“Yes, I have something for you.”

The woman grinned, showing off her pointed teeth, but it seemed to be meant more as a friendly gesture rather than intimidating.

“I knew a number of soldiers who lost limbs in the past,” Arjana went on, “you’d be surprised how common that is.”

She led Damarys back towards the medical tent but turned aside before they entered and instead ducked into one of the smaller tents where the medical supplies were stored. Inside looked more like an artificers workshop than a medical space, but it became apparent right away to Damarys why they were here. On the central workbench was a mechanical arm.

“Before we begin,” Arjana said, holding out a small vial, “drink this.”

Damarys obeyed and immediately felt the scabs on the stump of her arm flake away as the tissue knitted itself back fully. The dull throbbing faded with it.

“You had a potion that powerful this entire time?” Damarys gasped in shock. “Why are you wasting it on me?”

“First of all,” Arjana held up on clawed finger with a look of impatience on her face, “we have a few such potions but they’re only to be used in extreme need. Second,” she spoke a little louder now as Damarys had been about to protest further, “you’re one of four people who have survived the city and been of great use to us all. And third, your greatest skill is with the bow which you can’t use one handed. So, Jelvaic and I agreed this would be an appropriate use of resources. Hence the potion and the arm. It’s taken a while to get it made, but between the craftspeople and few enchanters who escaped the city, we’ve been able to get this made. It’s not the best, mind you, but it’ll do for now.”

Damarys felt tears running down her cheek and was surprised to realize she was already crying.

“It’s just an arm,” she tried to tell herself as her throat choked up with emotion.

She hadn’t really allowed herself to grieve the loss of her arm this entire time but now, with the prospect of having a replacement, the weight of what she’d lost came down on her.

“I’ve been so useless,” she sobbed while embracing Arjana.

The older woman let her cry, patting her on the back before pulling away and getting to work fitting the prosthesis to Damarys’ arm. It was clear to Damarys that Arjana had seen countless people react this way to being given a replacement limb. Leather straps held the prosthesis tight against Damarys’ stump and as Arjana tightened them, Damarys became aware of the new limb. It wasn’t a true sense of touch, but it was something where before there had been nothing. Instinctively she could move the joints, though without much finesse.

“It’ll take a while to get used to it,” Arjana assured her. “Take a day to just wear it and try it out but don’t expect any great dexterity at first. Don’t sleep with it on, either. Your body needs to rest between uses. Let me know if anything is uncomfortable. I know the straps can sometimes chafe.”

The hand formed itself into a fist and then relaxed, opening and closing. There was a certain amount of jitter to the motion, as well as a slight delay between when Damarys wanted the movement to happen and when it actually moved, but it was so much better than nothing.

“Thank you,” she said, “thank you so much.”

“I won’t deny this isn’t just out of the goodness of our hearts,” Arjana admitted. “We need you and the others to be at your best when you go in to free Nyla.”

It made sense and Damarys wondered if there were others in the camp who would have benefited more from the potion than she did. But she was the lucky one whose skills were needed.

“Do you still have a bow?” Arjana asked.

Damarys nodded. She’d considered giving it to someone else but hadn’t been able to part with it just yet. Good thing, too, since it seemed she’d be able to make use of it after all.

“I better put this through it’s paces,” Damarys sniffed as she stemmed her tears and wiped her face with her new hand.

“Remember to take it slow. And don’t expect to be right back where you were before you lost your arm. It takes most people a few weeks at least to reach full proficiency.”

A few weeks? She saw the meaningful look in Arjana’s eyes and Damarys knew she didn’t have a few weeks. Well, she’d just have to see how much progress she could make in a few days while Zeter worked on his disks of absolution.

The hunters had their own archery range outside of the city for target practice and it was no surprise to Damarys when she found a few hunters there. There were a number of surprised and impressed looks when they saw her new arm.

Those looks changed to disappointment, however, when she loosed her first arrow. Damarys failed to even hit her target. Her new arm twitched unpredictably as it strained against her pull on the bow string. She found that, with concentration, she could steady the joints and aim better, though she still only hit the target half of the time.

“You aren’t having to start all over, are you?” one of the other hunters asked.

The unspoken concern about what Damarys and the others were supposed to be doing was heavy in the air.

“It takes a few days,” Damarys assured them. “I just need time and some patience.”

The hunters nodded. Time and patience were a hunters main tools and they left her alone after that, focusing on their own targets rather than watching her. It was a lot more comfortable after that and Damarys’ aim continued to improve. By the time she left the range, she was consistently hitting most of her targets, even if she wasn’t hitting precisely where she wanted. It was improvement and she wouldn’t complain about that.

The one thing that wasn’t right was her grip. The new hand was solid and lacked all the fleshy padding of a regular hand. As such, it didn’t grip the bow quite right. When she returned from the range, Damarys sought out Jerlinzia the merchant. Most of the merchants were low on supplies or charging high rates but Jerlinzia at least kept her prices low.

“How are you, Damarys?” Jerlinzia asked in her flat monotone.

The woman was quite short, maybe reaching up to Damarys’ waist. She had to stand on a box behind her counter so she could be at eye level with her customers. Her apparel was bright blue with ribbons of red and gold and she always looked rather flamboyant. It was always a bit jarring when she spoke since her voice was so flat and lacked inflection. Regardless of her oddities, she was becoming something of a celebrity since her wares were the only ones not being inflated.

“I need something to help with my grip,” Damarys explained, “either a glove, or some leather strips, perhaps.”

She showed Jerlinzia the issue and the small woman bent over the counter to inspect it. After a moment she hopped down from her box and grabbed some handfuls of cotton, cloth, and leather.

“Let’s see what we can do,” Jerlinzia said. “Put the bow on the counter, please.”

Damarys complied and together they fashioned a better grip for her bow.

“Thank you,” she said. “How much do I owe you?”

“This is for the city,” Jerlinzia shook her head. “I’ll charge it to Jelvaic, but it isn’t much. Mostly scraps. Probably not worth the time it would take to charge him for it. Also, I have something for you.”

She got back down and opened one of her chests, revealing weapons and such that glowed with faint magical aura. After a moment of digging around she came back with a jewel studded quiver.

“I heard some of the hunters talking about your aim and you needing time to practice. But time is limited so I’m loaning this quiver to you. Arrows drawn from it won’t easily miss their mark.”

“Jerlinzia, I…thank you again.”

“Save the city, you save us all,” was her simple reply. “Return the quiver when you don’t need it anymore.”

Damarys nodded. She hoped it wouldn’t take too long. Such magical items were generally seen as a crutch for lesser hunters but she wouldn’t turn it away now. The next day, her aim was significantly improved with the quiver. Still not as good as she used to be, but good enough that she wasn’t worried about her proficiency. The grip was also significantly better. Even without the magical quiver, Damarys’ aim was far better than the day before. The arm shook less and reacted more quickly to her desires.

After a few hours of practicing she became aware she had a new audience. This time it was Jelvaic and Arjana, both leaning on trees and watching her. Damarys waved at them and they began to stride over to her.

“How’s the arm?” Arjana asked.

“Better and better,” Damarys grinned.

“Good,” Jelvaic grunted, relieved. “We’ve spoken to the others and they all say tomorrow is the day to go back in. Zeter’ll be finished with his batch of those disks, and Emilie said she’ll have some potions to help you all out. Kasyn’s just been practicing his magic and praying to Akumu.”

Both Jelvaic and Arjana huffed at that last bit but said nothing more on the subject.

“I’ll be ready,” Damarys agreed. “The sooner we get Nyla back, the better.”

“Agreed,” both Jelvaic and Arjana said.

“One thing, though,” Arjana said and she lowered her voice so as not to be overheard by the other hunters. “Keep an eye on Zeter. He has connections with the Sages of the Mercurial Robe and they might be trying to influence him for their benefit, against our wishes.”

“What do they want?”

“Our guess is they’re after the Toshokans,” Jelvaic explained. “Akumu’s vast, collected knowledge might not be as well guarded as it used to be. The Sages were often asking Akumu for information and chaffed when they were denied. Now, that knowledge is worth a fortune and if they steal it from the city, well…we don’t want to lose one of our greatest assets if we can avoid it.”

“I understand.”

She didn’t like the idea of conflicting interests, but she also understood. All of them were citizens of Yume, but they had different pasts, different lives, different objectives. The question now was whether or not they were all more loyal to the city and its people than they were to their other interests.