She sighed. The bars were too narrowly spaced to let her tend his arm appropriately. She looked to see the key on the far wall. They just left it up there, taunting the prisoners. Well... 
She rose quickly to her feet, sized up the jump. Took three running steps, leaped, seized the key. Trotted triumphantly back down the hall, unlocked the door to his cell, and came inside. "I'll tend your arm. I'll set you free, too, if you can come up with a way to get out of here without getting either of us killed." Remembering what he'd said about the whipping, she shook her head in exasperation. "No, you don't understand. Whipping is what he does to people who... people who need to stay functional and appear healthy in society, lest the commoners ask questions." Tears welled up in her eyes. "What he does to ones who are in his eyes expendable... It's better to not know." She shuddered. The slave boy who'd taught her Celtic. He'd been taken to the basement of the palace and brought up a week later, in bloody pieces. She herself had been whipped a couple of times, being a "maga", a learned woman, and considered a witch by the people.
She gently sponged the wounds on his arm, applied an herb poultice. "Sorry, but this'll sting a little." she mentioned as she started applying it. "We've got to burn out all of the potential infection and poison, though." That done she paused. "Oh dear, I think it's broken, too. This part's going to hurt a lot, fair warning." She grabbed the limb, for it was twisted totally out of proper orientation, and pulled on it, gently twisting until the bones lined up. Having had this done to her once when she was younger and had fallen off of a balcony and broken a leg, she knew that it was excruciating.
Once she'd gotten the bones in line, she bandaged the limb bent at 90 degrees and made a makeshift sling for it out of a handkerchief, smiling at the man once she'd tied the sling around his neck.