The thought that Validor would be clumsy enough to leave metal bits in her was insulting, though! She glared at the very idea. "Metal shards, indeed! All I require is rest! And don't patronize me. I've met Death twice today and I'm really not in the mood to be treated like a child. However, since I am not at present capable of walking, and wish to spare myself the humiliation of being tossed over someone's shoulder again..." She was all wounded dignity as she lay on the stretcher they'd brought, her face burning. "Yeah, yeah, just lay still on the stretcher, shut up and enjoy the ride! So you met Death today, big whoop! I meet her all the time myself and you know what she keeps telling me, 'Doc, sooner or later your bedside manner is going to do you in!' Of course, I never listen to her and I pretty much do as I please!"
Some of the men chuckled and laughed at Doc's joke, as the attendants carried Zakiyah off to the Drow Chiurgeon's tent. When they arrived the attendant's set the Lorekeeper's litter on top of a table and Doc began to remove her clothing and examine her fully. The Chiurgeon checked for vital signs, grimacing only a little, then he checked out her ears, eyes, nose, and throat and grimaced a little more! Finally, he began to examine her chest wound.
"May I at least ask what a group of drow mercenaries are doing camped here? And where is HERE?" she added, as an afterthought, realizing she hadn't a clue where she was now. And since when to Drow chiurgeons give a damn about wounded Vallifreyan women who drop into their midst? she wondered wryly.
"Why of course you can, my lady!" replied the Chiurgeon sardonically, "It doesn't mean that I'll give you answer, but you can ask me whatever you like! By the way, does this still hurt?"
Doc gently pressed against Zakiyah's most recent wound to see if it had fully healed and to discover the full extent of her recovery.
