Closed A Radacke's handiwork (Verena Lorak)

[Timothy Mered]

Morning, 43rd Summer 514AV

Important notePermission to use Jed Radacke's NPCs has been granted by Jed. Permission for Tim to learn new skills has been granted as well. Permission for Tim to be outside of the shop, under the strict eye of Matilla, has been granted as well.

The door swung open. The light, to which he hadn't been exposed for fourty-four bells or thereabouts, blinded him and for a tick he thought the shadow in the doorstep was Jed, coming to finish the job. But the shadow was too diminutive of stature to be Jed and too bend over to be Sander. That left him with only one possibility.

"Here," Matilla's voice sounded as she entered the storage room. "I've brought you something to eat."

Tim narrowed his eyes. Was she playing a cruel trick on him or was she being sincere? For a few more ticks he remained seated in the corner of the storage room, amidst stocks of raw wood and countless unfinished, unsuccesful projects. Carpenting a chair with his head for a hammer would've given him less of a headache then the one he suffered now. Screaming for food, his belly wanted to stand up and race over to Matilla, yet in spite of the heavy scent of wax that had clouded his mind, he remained defiant.

"If you won't eat, at least come out so I can take a look at you." Matilla said as she shuffled a few more steps into the storage room.

For a chime they battled. Tim refused to raise himself and Matilla refused to leave. Soon enough, Tim gave in to his hunger and struggled to raise himself. Swaying dangerously, he made his way over to Matilla and took the bowl she held in her hands without a word.

"You look terrible," Matilla said as she scrutinized him with her eyes. He'd always looked too pale and thin for her liking, but whatever life had once lingered in his cheeks was now gone. His erect posture had been replaced by a slouched and sloppy one, his bright eye exchanged for a hollow, hungry stare and his straw-like hair was scattered across his forehead in disarray.

Tim paid as little heed to Matilla as he'd done to the smudges of blood on his sleeve and near his nose. Out of all the damage Jed had done, the bruises on his shoulder and in his neck were the worst, worse still then the scorching heat of the brand he'd received. That pain, at least, had subsided over time, but the bruises wouldn't go, they'd throb and ache every petched tick, keeping him well away from sleep and comfort.

"Master Jed is away," Matilla said, even though he hadn't asked. "And he won't return before the 45th, if I recall correctly. You're still going to that wedding, but not like this."

Tim scraped the bowl of stew clean and swallowed down the last bits before he looked up at Matilla. "Thank you," he muttered. Almost, he'd turned around to reassume his position in the darkest corner of the storage room, but Matilla's hand latched onto his good shoulder and steered him out.

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to see a doctor," she replied sharply and not a hair on his head thought of protesting. On their way out of the shop, he caught Sander's eye. The older boy gave him a curious little look, not one of pity but not one of disdain either.

Judging by the low position of the sun and the relative calm on the streets, Tim could tell it was still morning even though his sense of time thought months had passed since Jed had locked him up. They turned left as soon as they were outside and headed down south on Dry Island. Tim knew the facades of the buildings like the inside of his pocket, yet he'd never stopped to take a closer look at what each building was for. To his surprise, they stopped not a chime later in front of a low building. A small iron fence seperated them from the garden and Tim thought it looked quite out of place in a city that was all about grandeur.

His surprise was replaced by awe when Matilla pushed him ahead and inside. It looked a bit like the living room he'd seen at the Whiplash Plantation, only smaller and not quite meant for the same purpose. On the far end of the room a young girl with brown hair stood behind a desk.

Matilla pushed him forward a bit more, though anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell he was the one to be treated, not her. "Good morning," Matilla said in her usual, kind voice. "We've had a bit of an...accident. You know how it is. Is Doctor Lorak present?"

Tim could only assume she meant that he wasn't the only battered slave to be brought here and that the source of his injuries shouldn't be hard to guess.

[Verena Lorak]

"Of course," Bella answered timidly, careful to keep her head down. She could clearly see that the young boy was beaten badly, but it was not her place to say anything. The sight was not new to her. Many slaves had been brought here just because Verena was one of the few people who wouldn't refuse to treat a slave. Sometimes, Bella why couldn't more people in Kenash be like her mistress. "She'll be here shortly."

The young girl waved slightly at another slave as she directed the two guests to the healing room. Hallan got the signal instantly and exited through the front door without a word. Verena had gone for a quick walk with her cousin - which was surprising since they seemed to dislike one another. Hallan was ordered to look for her if anything happened.

Fortunately, Verena and Calisha was just on their way back. To Kenash, two comely women in fancy clothing were no uncommon occurrence. Yet, people gave them sidelong glances and mostly ignored the pair. Of course they did. The young woman with the paper skin was known as an odd doctor and the other one was gossiped to have murdered her own twin brother in the swamp. However, both women seemed to be immune to the amount of attention the had garnered.

Not for the first time since their walk, Verena wondered what it was Calisha wanted from her. Her cousin rarely visited and when she did, usually it was for a particular reason. She had not said anything, but Verena had spent most of the morning half-listening to Calisha's comment on the city's gossip. Sure, the morning sun felt warm on her skin, but the doctor didn't appreciate her sleep being interrupted by unimportant chatting.

Then, out of the corner came a figure running toward their direction. Verena squinted her eyes to see better as they paused. About a tick later, she recognized Hallan in his loose shirt and worn pants. Finally, a reason to end this particular walk.

"Ver," he called out when he was close enough. Out of he three slaves, Hallan was probably the one who was at ease the most with her. So much that most of her family member deemed it inappropriate - even punished him for it. "A patient." As if just remembering her cousin, Hallan bowed the slightest bit, "Lady Calisha."

"How bad?" asked Verena simply.

He shrugged. "A couple of bruises, nothing fatal. It's a little boy."

"Go ahead and tell Bella to make him comfortable. I'll be right there."

Hallan nodded stiffly in reply, in his usual manner when other Dynasties were present. It seemed unnecessary to Verena, but Zorane had told her it was best for the slave to act so - more for his sake than hers. And soon, he disappeared into the corner once again.

"You're absolutely foolish, sometimes," Calisha said with a sneer as her eyes watched Hallan go.

The statement confused her for a few ticks. "Why?"

"Clearly, he's in love with you and he's just absolutely handsome."

"What does that has to do with me being foolish?" asked Verena as the Mortal Solace came into sight. She had always liked how it looked, the simplicity and the comfort it offered to her in comparison to her home. Lorana had commented that it should be bigger, but Verena figured that it didn't need to be.

With a laugh, Calisha played with her hair. Compared to her, Verena felt outshone in terms of beauty and physique. Even in a simple blue dress, the Lorak looked stunning. Calisha had many suitors, all of them which she denied for some mysterious reason. "If I were you, I would've bedded him every night. Which I'm guessing, you never even thought of."

"You are not me and I don't see why it mattered." Truth be told, she did found Hallan attractive. But to bed him? She never thought of it that far.

It would seem Calisha had a great deal more to say about the subject, but she paused when they had reached the front doors. Unlike most Loraks, she wanted absolutely nothing in the field of medicine, saying that seeing sick people made her sick. Not once she had entered the Mortal Solace. "I'll be going then. That was a lovely walk." As an afterthought, she added, "Maybe I'll borrow your slave sometime. I am terribly bored these days."

Verena made no attempt of replying as she entered the waiting room. Taloe had taken Bella's place behind the desk and gave Verena a terse nod. It was a surprise to see Taloe still here. It had been two seasons since Verena heard of the Konti's plan to escape, yet nothing happened still.

When the young doctor entered the healing room, her cool eyes immediately rested on the two foreign figures in the room. A little boy and an old woman - what an odd pair, she thought. The boy was already seated on the bed, looking sullen and pale. It seemed like he was close to passing out. Bella was already standing near them, nervous and unsure what to do. She had set up a water basin and a cloth on the table.

Verena first headed to the other side of the room, filling a clay cup with cool water. Then, she offered it to the little boy and if he refused, she would place it on the table, not bothered to force him. Verena took a chime to study him, noting the bruises and the u Then, she turned her attention to the old woman. "What happened to him?"

[Timothy Mered]

43rd Summer 514AV

Tim let his eyes slide through the interior once more. It was a nice place in it's own right, perhaps overdecorated but cosy nevertheless. The brown-haired girl didn't speak much more but simply led them to another chamber.

His boots squeaked on the polished wooden floor as he limped after the girl, a morose grimace etched itself into his features, he hadn't thought himself that weak. Upon the slave girl's direction he sat down on the edge of one out of six beds. Matilla stood a feet removed from him, her hawken eyes firmly trained upon him, ready to jump forward should he fall forward or backward.

"She'll be here shortly." the slave girl said.

Matilla nodded and left Tim to wonder who exactly 'she' was. His answered stepped in not chimes later. She was young and sweet-looking though he noticed an earnest sterness in her eyes as well. A memory of Nance, his surrogate mother, flared up in the back of his mind. She'd looked a bit the same, hadn't she? Ho tried to remember her features but couldn't. All that his mind could render was the image of the woman standing before him. Sunberth was far away now and the pictures of those he'd known were fuzzy and distorted.

Feeling about as fit as a wet rag, it took Tim a good ten ticks before he realized he was being offered a cup of water. The bowl was warmer than his hands and he had trouble keeping it steady in his palms. His mind was too far away and too disconnected with his body to even utter a greeting or otherwise express gratitude.

"What happened to him?"

"Lady Lorak," Matilla greeted politely, inclining her head in respect. "He caused trouble to his master and destroyed some valuable property in his rage-"

"I am sorry," Tim interjected. Matilla flashed him a stern gaze, telling him to leave the talking to her.

"Our Master, Jed Radacke, meted out a punishment he deemed appropiate for the commited offense. My Master is not a cruel man, Lady Lorak, but I fear he may have dealt more damage than he intended." She paused a moment to scan the boy again. His eyes had gone into soft focus and she could tell he was struggling to remain seated upright. "Little Tim here is supposed to attend the wedding three days from now. I worry for his well-being and, to be frank, for his appearance. If you could spare the time to check on him, we'd be most grateful."

Having relayed the story to the doctor, Matilla retreated a pace and gave the doctor space to work.

Feeling and looking ill beyond his bodily injuries, Tim's mind wandered beyond the boundaries of politeness and restraint. "Are you a doctor?" he asked in a dull, distant voice. A wave of cold caused his teeth to chatter involuntarily, the throb on his forehead only increased and in spite of the cold he felt inside, beads of sweat dripped down his temples.

[Verena Lorak]

Verena pressed her lips tightly as she looked at the young boy. She tied her back into a messy ponytail and finally stepped closer. Her light blue dress swayed lightly, annoying the young doctor.

The boy seemed to cringe slightly at her approach. Even for her, seeing a child so beaten up was a sad sight. He was thin enough and he could barely sit up straight. A shiver went through him, making him look even more miserable. The boy certainly didn't seem like he was going to talk much. For now at least.

"Are you a doctor?" the boy, Tim, had asked.

The answer to it was obvious, but Verena made herself say, "Yes."

The old woman did not give Verena much of the information she needed, but it was better than nothing. Still, the doctor would have to figure things out herself. Carefully, Verena shifted her focus toward the boy, willing herself to see the aura surrounding him. Her simple magic started working in her eyes, sharpening her vision. They were close enough that his swirling yellow aura brushed against her. She could feel the ravenous hunger in him and the annoying fever nagging him. A mild headache also burrowed itself in the little boy's head. Last of all, the pain. Verena was nowhere skilled enough to pinpoint where it originated, but at least she was sure now that nothing vital had been damaged.

"Bella," the young woman called out lightly. She would have to deal with hunger before the stomach pain set in and complicate things. "Buy me some sweet bread." At the command, the girl ducked outside the room and snatched a few mizas from the desk.

Out of the corner of her mind, Verena recalled the last time a Radacke slave had visited the Mortal Solace - there wasn't much of them. Radackes tend to prefer their slaves not to be treated. Verena remembered the man was attacked by an alligator and brought here by a woman named . . . It didn't matter, really. Compared to that, Tim was fine.

Verena spotted the bruises that ringed the base of Tim's neck first. They sunk under his collar and she guessed there were more under his clothes. His pale face was also decorated by patches of dark skin. As far as she could see, he wasn't bleeding and that was good sign. It would mean her gnosis could work to heal most of it.

"Tell me slowly of what happened exactly. Where did he hit you? Point it out to me."

[Timothy Mered]

43rd Summer 514AV

Upon hearing that the dark-haired young woman in front of him was indeed a doctor, and one of high society no less, Tim's rspect for Matilla grew. It was obvious she cared for him, even though he considered it had all been his own fault. Yet the respectful title with which Matilla adressed the Lorak doctor made him scoot an inch to the side and then back again, hesitating whether he could trust her or not. She was a stange doctor, he decided once she commanded her slave to buy some bread. Then it struck him that maybe she was buying it for him. She looked kind enough to be capable of doing just that but all things considered, he had little reason to trust any of the rich snobs.

His indecisiveness only grew when she asked him for the full story. His memory was hazy on the subject and he didn't know precisely how often Jed had struck. Biting his lip he mustered the courage to recall the events. His gaze was downcast when he started. "I was working in the shop with Master Jed, but then he ordered me to wax a chair and then to sweep the floor and then he said I hadn't taken down the shutters properly. I got very angry with him and threw my hammer at him and destroyed the table he was working on. Then he grabbed me and pushed me into the wall and now my back hurts." There was a slight hesitation in his movement before he decided to pull his shirt over his head and reveal the bruises on his back. The largest one sat just under his left shoulderblade, two others near the base of his spine and a nasty grazy reached from his right shoulder halfway down his spine.

"I am really sorry for what I did," Tim said bitterly, "and I am sorry you have to waste your time on me. I'll go now, I don't want to cause my master anymore expense."

[Verena Lorak]

For the first time, Verena realized that this little boy's master was Jed Radacke - whom she knew well enough. It seemed uncharacteristic for him to do something like this, but she already knew how people acted differently to their slaves. Still, hitting a boy this badly seemed a little too much, even for a Radacke. She couldn't help but wonder if Tim was denied food as well.

The doctor listened to Tim's story attentively, all the while her mind was mapping out the possible locations for bruises. Most of it would be focused on his back - a good thing because it meant less chance of his ribs being cracked, a bad thing because his spine might sustain some for of damage. So far, Tim showed no signs of his spine being injured and Verena hoped it would keep being that way. Injuries to such an important organ was out of her league.

By the time Tim decided to take off his shirt, Verena was already standing behind him and scrutinizing the blackening skin. His bruises were more centered on his left side. Jed had certainly used some strength in slamming the kid against the wall. Unfortunately for the young slave, the impact caused a mild cut. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but it was there.

At Tim's comment, Verena shook her head. "Your master won't be charged with anything. Stay where you are." She noted another bruise on his cheekbone as she spoke.

When she was sure she had identified each injury, Verena turned her attention to his front side. At least it looked much better. Tim had clearly suffered some blows to the stomach and chest. Gently, the doctor pressed her palm on his ribs, trying to feel if any of it was broken. "Try taking a deep breath. Is it uncomfortable or painful?" It wasn't hard to locate his bones - he was so thin, like most slaves were. She made her way up slowly, pressuring each rib. Her other hand rested on his small head. Almost immediately, Verena could feel her gnosis warming, working to ease the boy's fever. "Tell me when it hurts."

She certainly could use some help if she was to finish this quickly. Verena straightened slightly as she called out, "Hallan, get Taloe."

[Timothy Mered]

43rd Summer 514AV

He could feel her eyes drilling into his back, carefully scrutinizing every inch of skin. She was the strangest highborn he'd met in Kenash so far. To call her kind would be a stretch, but the mere fact that she would receive and treat slaves already put her well above the majority of the Dynasty members. He decided he would include her in his prayers so that her purity might be rewarded by Yahal.

"Your master won't be charged with anything. Stay where you are."

She had a tendency to be snappy and to the point, he noticed. Jed shared that behaviour whenever he was grumpy though he would mutter under his breath to, something the Doctor hadn't done yet. The longer she examined him, the worse he began to feel. He tried to decipher her expression, to see how bad it really was, but her face was like a puzzle to him. She looked quite serious, perhaps a bit concerned, maybe there was surprise too, but how could any one person feel so many things at once?

A slight ripple went through his skin at her touch. Luckily, her hands were warm and gentle. Upon her command, Tim sucked in a breath through his nostrils, filling his lungs to full capacity. The air in the room was clean and dry to his mouth, as if there wasn't a speck of dust to be found in it. Yet, at the climax a sharp ache stabbed his lowest left rib. "It hurts," he said through clenched teeth. "Just there," he pointed to the lowest rib on his left side. Contrary to the pain in his side, his head was beginning to clear. Upon resting her hand on his forehead, Tim could feel the throb subside, as if it were water drained in a sink. Yet the cold shivers remained, though they had lessened in power, and no life flooded back to his cheeks yet.

"Why are you helping me Miss?" he asked after she'd called out for another slave. "What if my Master sees me healed? Don't you think he'll strike again?" his voice was low now, inaudible even to Matilla who stood guard at a respectful distance. "I am scared," he whispered. He didn't know the woman, nor did she know him. Yet she was helping him, without having any reason or obligation to do so. Trusting a stranger with his deepest fear was easier than to trust Jed, Matilla, or Sander. Besides, it was a relief to get it off his chest, even if she would just pretend to listen. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was an air about her that invited trust.

[Verena Lorak]

Hallan nodded at her command and returned a chime later with Taloe. When the Konti saw the injuries on the boy, she snarled and rushed to the bedside. "Who did this to a child?" Her fists were clenched on her sides and she took a deep breath. Slowly, she looked up at her mistress. "What do you want me to do?"

"Clean the cut on his back and bandage it. It should heal fine on its own."

It would seem like Tim had cracked one of his ribs. Verena placed a gentle pressure on the spot again, making sure that the bone did not shift. The boy would have a chest pain for a couple of weeks, but the rib should heal all by itself as long as it wasn't the disturbed. That would mean making sure his master won't hit him again - which would result in more trouble that she'd like to deal. How unfortunate that Verena couldn't use her healing to heal broken bones. It would've solved a lot of problem.

"I am a healer. It is what I am supposed to do," Verena replied plainly. She could still remember the day when Uncle Doromer first explained to her about the healing mark, about the responsibility. Never turn thy back to those who are damaged. Verena had thought that it sounded silly. It still does, but she understood what it meant. "I can make sure he doesn't, if you want."

Just in time, Bella entered the room and placed a basket of bread on the table. The sweet scent wafted in the air and even the doctor's stomach grumbled faintly. She hadn't had the chance to break her fast because Calisha had came visiting. Verena pulled her hands away from the boy and announced, "He has some bruises, a shallow cut and a fractured rib. A case of mild fever, too. All this would heal fine on its own, but I noticed you mentioned a wedding. I'll do what I can to speed up the healing process."

She grabbed a bread and dropped it on the boy's lap without even looking at him. "He should stay here at least for the whole day. It'll take time to heal him. I want to keep a close eye on him and make sure he is eating properly. He is already horribly skinny as he is. It is no wonder his body reacted badly to the fever."

[Timothy Mered]

43rd Summer 514AV

Quicker than he could count them, two more people entered. Neither looked fully human, Tim had seen enough of the others races in Sunberth to tell them apart, yet the pale skinned woman caught his eye immediately. She looked more beautiful and fragile than a snowflake, as if she was made out of whiteness, the very room lightening up in her presence. Now that she came rushing over to him, he could see clearly that she was even less human than he’d thought. Parts of her skin were in fact scales, he noticed. Was she some sort of fish then?

He was just about to ask when Verena pressed on his rib again. No matter how careful and light her touch was, it still hurt and Tim hissed through his teeth. At the same time, the hands of the white lady were treating his back. There was comfort in being taken care of, but with only his pants and shoes to cover him, he felt terribly exposed to the many eyes and hands on his skin.

To his surprise, the good doctor offered to stop his master from treating him so in the future. Tim doubted that it was in her power, or anyone else’s for that matter, to prevent Jed Radacke doing from whatever he set his mind to, but he nodded regardless. “Yes, if you please. But he’s not a bad man,” Tim added lowly. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry and he was right to punish me.” A small corner of his mind dared to question the words that rolled of his tongue, but he surpressed it. Fourty-something bells in solitary confinement had left him convinced that he’d deserved every single one of his injuries and possibly worse. He’d failed his master and shamed him in the eyes of his own family. He couldn’t imagine Sander or Matilla ever causing so much grief to Jed. A pained look came to his face, he was guilty of it all and now he was to cause even more trouble to Jed. “I am sorry,” he said, “but I don’t think you should stop him after all. I failed him and he corrected me, that’s all.”

Again, a small voice protested. She’s trying to help you! Master was being unreasonable and now you will just let him? He should be punished just the same! Again he ignored the voice.

“Why did you become a healer?” Tim asked, unsure if the bread on his lap was meant for him. “Why do you treat slaves? If you don’t get paid for it, you must be really poor. I can help repay you though. I have a few breaks now and then so I could maybe clean boots or chimneys so I can pay you…” He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment, eyes shooting towards the ceiling. Another shiver rippled down his spine, but that didn’t deter him. “Not on Saturdays and Sundays though, then I am always busy.”

"He should stay here at least for the whole day. It'll take time to heal him. I want to keep a close eye on him and make sure he is eating properly. He is already horribly skinny as he is. It is no wonder his body reacted badly to the fever.”

Tim was completely oblivious to Verena’s words, but Matila took notice of them and nodded. “With your permission, I’ll take my leave then. I can’t leave the shop to Sander alone.” She made about as low a bow as could be demanded from someone her age before heading out, only to stop in the doorway and gesturing towards Tim that the bread was indeed his to take.
“Will you come back for me?” Tim asked.

But she’d already left, and soon all he cared for was the warm bread in his mouth.

When requested, Tim would raise his arm to allow a bandage to be wrapped and weaved over his shoulderblade and would then cock his head so the bruise on his cheekbone could be treated.

[Verena Lorak]

Unconsciously, Verena touched the tattoo-like pattern just below her collarbone when Tim asked the question. It was a good question, one she didn't have a definite answer to. She couldn't explain it, but pursuing this occupation had always felt just right. "Since I was born, I was already marked to be a healer. I have always been a healer." Many people had asked her the same thing - which she often find puzzling. The answer was obvious, after all. "My patients are mostly Dynasties and Freeborns. They can pay to be treated here." The bruising on Tim's face was not so bad. Careful not to frighten the boy, Verena placed her fingers on the blackened spot. Typically, these sort of injuries would only take her a few chimes to completely heal. Once the bruise had faded, she would move on to another one.

“I am sorry, but I don’t think you should stop him after all. I failed him and he corrected me, that’s all.”

Verena couldn't help marveling at the young boy who believed in such madness. Then again, that was how most people in Kenash think. That somehow being rough on a slave was entirely acceptable. She had questioned the concept to some people - of treating the same beings with two opposite reactions, just because of their statuses - but no one could really answer why. "There are a lot of proper ways to correct someone and I know for a fact that violence is not one of them."

When she was done with his face, Verena rested her palm just below the little boy's shoulder blade. She could only deal with the bruises for now. The cut she couldn't do much about. Even as she placed her hand on it, Verena knew the best she could do was cleanse the wound of any infection and stop the pain slightly. At last, she gestured at Taloe to continue her work.

"Not too tight," Verena warned the Konti as she treated his back. Taloe nodded and her slim fingers deftly readjusted the bandage. If she wasn't a slave, the Lorak was sure that Taloe would have made a good doctor. Too bad there would be no way to convince her family to give the Konti a proper education. It was a waste. "His ribs won't do well with the added pressure and he might have trouble breathing."