Oh that sucks a lot! "Isk- iskander - get -"

He's in no condition.

"We've got wounded over here! Someone get a healer!"

"Or, and here's a thought; maybe we could take them to the healers? Perhaps in an infirmary, or even a temple? They're on perfectly good stretchers."

"Nevermind that, make me some room! Stop crowding them, I need space to work. And what happened here, anyway? The boy's injuries are bad enough, but whatever injured the girl looks incredibly nasty."

His voice is that of someone used to demanding respect, and equally used to getting it; age has robbed it of a little of its vigor, but it still carries enough to be readily understandable through the pain. Somehow, he appears to be speaking their native language, so wherever they ended up can't be too far off.

"Demons, sir! We found them just outside the city walls, nearly dead."

There's a short pause while the old man does something, then he replies.

"Demons? This close to the city? Not weak ones either; she's strong enough to have an aura, so I doubt she went down easy, and most of those couldn't deal this kind of injury besides. If one this strong managed to slip through the barrier, there will be others. Tirabade, tell your wife I need to speak with her about beefing up the patrols. Now, as for you two..."

He chants a short prayer referencing someone called Iomedae, and then there's a flash of light that seems to heal Iskander. A second, slightly more elaborate prayer follows, but despite making a brighter flash it only slightly lessens the pain Kybele is experiencing.

"AUGH where the fuck am I - Ky! Ky what the hell -"

"Nmrrgh!"

"My powers aren't enough here, she needs some real healing. You there, make yourself useful and fetch Terendelev!"

"Prelate, surely there is someone else you could send to fetch her?"

Before the old man can snap at her, someone else speaks up.

"I'll do it, sir."

She then takes off at a run, calling out to ask if anyone had seen Terendelev.

"Be quick about it, then, I'm not sure the injury won't get worse."

The apparent Prelate then turns to Iskander, seeming to make walking a few steps look like an incredibly serious affair.

"Now, who are you two? I'm good at faces, and I've never seen either of you."

"This is Kybele the Curator, called Gazette. I'm her brother Iskander."

"That's the first I've heard of you. Who are you two? What is your business in Kenabres?"

He does sound somewhat suspicious, but his words aren't especially accusatory in tone; it's more the background radiation from someone who absolutely doesn't trust anyone he meets.

"Gazette runs the newspaper in our region - I help with the woodcuts and stuff - I have no idea how we got here, I've never heard of Kenabres."

"In your region, hmm? And where's that, that you end up wandering in northern Mendev without knowing-"

"My dear Prelate, please, calm down and stop interrogating these people. For the sake of the festivities, if nothing else; they've had it bad enough already. I'll take care of it from here."

With a gesture and a word, the wound on Kybele's chest seals up and the pain almost completely vanishes. She frowns, then attempts another; it might also help a little, but the drop from the first is large enough it's hard to be sure.

"Hmmph, if you insist. But be on your guard; there are powerful demons outside the walls, including whoever gave her that injury. No shortage of spies inside either, and the festival will hardly change that. You and I need to be prepared to ensure it stays safe."

He walks off, grumbling for a bit, but doesn't seem especially upset at what amounts to a dismissal.

Ky shifts and catches her breath and reaches for Iskander's hand.

She'll give them a bit before continuing.

"Aside from the injury in your chest, is there anything wrong? Any numbness, itchiness, or localized pain?"

"I think I'm all right other than that."

"I'm glad to hear it. Try to avoid anything extremely strenuous for the rest of the festival - something like darts should be fine, but try to avoid the tests of strength. I managed to treat the worst of your symptoms, including the bleeding and pain, but the actual wound itself isn't fixed and that might reopen it early. I did several patrols this morning, so the rest of my high level slots are being saved for an emergency, but if you stop by the temple of Iomedae tomorrow I should be able to try a Heal and see if that gets you anywhere. Tell them you were sent by Terendelev, guardian of Kenabres."

The woman then smiles, doing a relatively good job of looking reassuring.

"......Terendelev, guardian of Kenabres," Ky repeats obligingly.

"How are we speaking this language."

"That is a great question."

The woman frowns, her eyes glowing a bright blue.

"I don't see any magic on either of you, other than the wound and my own, but even if it was the wound that wouldn't explain why he can do so. Would you mind attempting to speak to me in draconic?"

The last sentence sounds slightly different, despite also sounding like it's in their native language. You wouldn't notice unless you were paying very close attention, but if you were the effect would be a little odd.