[The Mortal Solace] Healing on the Arm

[Viszragoneszh]

Healing on the Arm 29th day of Fall, 514 The building was so handy it was difficult to believe. With five islands and two opposing shorelines, all filled with homes and businesses, the odds of the only healing service being just on the other side of Dry Island Plaza seemed too good to be true. Certainly Goneszh had noticed its location in his comings and goings from his job at 'Spectral Solutions', the Spiritist service located on the south east side of the same plaza. With the healers, a nicely furnished medical center called 'The Mortal Solace', just across the plaza on the south west side, it took just chimes to go from one to the other. And he did so now. Where his hand had endured the branding to display his "Free Born" status, it was still largely unhealed. He examined it daily, but found that his Krolar Poultice had not been up to the task. He only had five more days before his clearance to wear a bandage would be rescinded, and was anxious about the possibility of infection. The burn had not even fully closed yet, let alone armored itself with scar tissue and scabs. It still wept with any exertion and, if not for the lack of offensive smell, he'd have thought it already WAS infected. His Krolar Poultice was now exhausted. He scowled at the knowledge that he'd have gotten far more benefit from it if he'd had more rest. But the tight schedule to secure a job had "forced his hand". He winced at the cheesy play on words more than from any pain. He'd had to go to many places, to do minor tasks of subduing a few weak spirits, in the time since he'd gotten his Free Born mark, and had not had much rest. He did not have much money left to purchase more poultice, but had no choice. He'd already gotten a loan from a man named "Lasher" for the herbs he had on him now. He would have to repay the man with interest to avoid an additional penalty charge. He hoped to get his first Purse of Compensation for his work before he ran completely out. Part of the problem was that "Master Caleb" (it bothered Goneszh to have to call him that), his boss, expected him to supply his own needs during his apprenticeship. In retrospect, this was not an uncommon policy, but Goneszh had only apprenticed to his mother before this and had not anticipated this reasonable request. Mita, the Master's ghost servant, always wore a smug look any time Goneszh received even a mild upbraiding from the Master, and the subject of purchasing his own supplies had been no exception. For himself, Goneszh took some satisfaction from the fact that her animosity had come from his easy handling of her attempt to expose him as an incompetent Spiritist. It had impressed "Master Caleb" though, and that was the more important result. He dismissed this line of thought as he opened the gate in the low iron fence and passed through some well tended gardens to reach door. The scenery was strongly reflected in the many glass panes, making it difficult to see in during the day. He had not yet checked at the end of one of his long days, when the lit interior would be much more easily seen. But he would see it now. he stepped through the door into a fairly luxurious waiting room. It was not ornate, in a princely fashion, but it was cozy and cushioned, promising comfortable waits for clients. As he sat, to await the attention of the brown haired girl tending the desk, he mused over the irony of the facility's name, when compared to his own employer's business. These people handled "Mortal" solace, and he and his employer would handle the "IMmortal" variety.

[Verena Lorak]

“What is it you want to talk about, Zorane?” Verena finally said after she had been watching her brother in front of her desk for five chimes. His movements were distracting and she was not able to return to her reading. Zorane Lorak had arrived at his sister’s clinic, holding an unfortunate news in his mouth. Now that he was standing in front of her, he was not quite sure how to word it.

“Lorana wanted me to tell you something,” he started vaguely, his eyes averting her gaze.

“What?”

Zorane shook his head. “I wish I was not the one telling you. She could’ve told you directly. But I am her clerk, her assistant of sorts, I guess.”

“Get to the point, brother,” the healer urged. It was vexing when people kept spinning around with their words. Unfortunately, Zorane had always been an expert in using words.

Finally, he took a deep breath. “You are to be married within a season or two. Steven Paille had agreed to it. Both he and Lorana would wholly pay for all of the wedding preparations. Lorana had chosen a planner to deal with everything, but your input is welcomed.”

In answer, Verena leaned back into her chair, her hand reaching out to the book, running her fingers across the pages. A gesture Zorane had not seen her do for a long time. A gesture which meant she was awfully upset despite her fairly cold expression. She kept silent for a long time, not looking into Zorane’s eyes.

Thoughts were rushing through her mind. She had expected it. She knew she was bound to be married to Cassius Paille sooner rather than later. But there was a difference between expecting and actually being told that she must wed in a season’s time.

Did Cas know already? Was he being told right now?

And Caedmon . . . Even with the distance they had created between each other, she could not look him in his stormy eyes tell him she was about to marry his brother – even if it was not her choice.

“Ver?” her brother asked carefully, like he was afraid she would break.

“I don’t wish to marry him, Zorane. I cannot. How can one be forced into marriage?” It was not that she despised the Paille. In fact, she had grown rather fond of Cas – but she did not love him. Of course not. Those feelings they described as love, she did not have them for Cas.

“With all the Dynasties securing alliances, Lorana needed to make sure that they knew the Lorak also have supporters. That we’re not weak and alone just because we’re a family of healers,” he said stiffly, bitterness tinging his words. Even Verena could recognize the words as their older sister’s. She also knew when Lorana had decided matters regarding their Dynasty, she will not change her mind.

Verena shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling trapped. It was an odd feeling. Her lungs swelled with inhalation, yet she felt like she couldn’t get enough air. Her heart was constricted and a numbness washed over her body as her mind accepted the situation. “Very well, tell Lorana I understand.”

Zorane ran his hand through his blonde hair, another reminder of how different they were from each other. He was even more upset than she was. “I’m sorry, Ver. I’m sorry. I hope I can do more for you.” He sighed as he straightened, tugging at his tie. Her brother had been dressing especially formal ever since he appointed as clerk to the Magistrate. As he walked away, he said, “You deserve true love, you know. You really do.”

-------------

“Why are you so happy, Zorane?” asked the fourteen year old as he watched her brother whistling. He entered the library with a tiny box and a roll of wrapping papers.

“Am I?” he asked, raising a blonde eyebrow.

“You smiled more than you usually do,” Verena pointed out, putting down the book she had been holding. She walked up to her brother, trying to figure out what he was doing. These days, she had rarely seen him. He was always traveling into the city or spending his time with a red-headed girl. He never told her who it was, even though he talked about her all the time. “You told me if someone smiles it means they are happy.”

He just grinned as he started to wrap the small box. “Well, that might be because I am falling in love.”

The girl just looked at her brother weirdly. “How can one fall into an emotion?”

“It’s just a figure of speech, Ver,” her brother explained. “Do you why they say it like that? Falling in love?”

She thought about for a few chimes, trying to figure it out as she watched Zorane finishing up the present. “No.”

“Because you can’t force love. But when you feel love, it’s like jumping down a tall building. You just keep hurtling down and you can’t stop it. All you do is fall.”

“Then what does it feel like?”

“You’ll know it.”

Verena never quite understood her brother’s word until further in her life. When she found spiralling into an endless hole, unable to stop herself.

-------------

“Lady Verena, you have a patient,” Bellara said, appearing under the doorway.

She put her thoughts into a box, sealing it and throwing it into the dark corners of her mind. Dwelling on such things did no good. It was a request from Lorana and no one could deny her. Verena knew she was supposed to marry soon. It did not matter how she felt about it. There was nothing she could do.

“Send him in.”

[Viszragoneszh]

Viszragoneszh The girl returned from the door to the right of the front desk. There was an identical one on the left side. "The doctor will see you now." the girl said, somewhat meekly, gesturing to the door she had just come from. Goneszh stood and took a last look around the comfortable room, registering somewhat after the fact, that a stately dressed young man had just left from that same doorway. He supposed that the girl was a slave, and figured it would be inappropriate to thank her. He'd actually seen a slave get slapped by their master for not immediately stating their unworthiness to be thanked a few days prior. He did not want to get this poor drudge in any worse trouble than she would probably be in anyway, for any number of other petty things. He stepped into the room, noting immediately that it was an office, and not an examination room. The young woman at this desk looked to confirm his impression of a harsh taskmistress. She did not look pleased. Goneszh wondered what would be bothering her, hoping it was nothing related to his visit. He supposed the young dandy that had just left must have lodged some complaint. 'The girl at the front desk must not have grovelled to his satisfaction.' he thought to himself sourly. Then it occurred to him. In many human societies, women were limited to subordinate roles. 'That stuffed shirt must have made some remark about medicine being "man's work", or something.' The woman had the look of someone fed-up with social expectations. This actually presented him with a bit of a dilemma. On the one hand, being a Dhani, he had no problem whatsoever with females being at the top of the pecking order. On the other hand, he needed to pass as a human, so he thought perhaps he should display just a bit of scorn for her 'presumption' in doing a job this culture undoubtedly considered to be meant for men. Fortunately, he did not WANT to buy into that attitude, and reasoned that, since it was public information that he'd learned his trade from his mother, it would not be outlandish for him to show full respect to this professional, regardless of her gender. Not to mention, if she was going to be working on his hand, he did not want her pissed off at him. He gave her a modest bow and presented his request as he unwrapped his hand. It was hardly even closed up with new tissue, let alone reinforced with new layers of skin. "I greatly regret if my arrival is-s ill-timed, but I have a s-schedule that will not wait. My name is Goneszh. You can plainly s-s...tell...by the brand that I am a 'Freeborn'. I have only another five days-s to wear the bandage. But you can tell that it won't be healed by then." He set his hand out so the doctor could look at it. He was feeling some increased urgency about his intent to free the Iyvess slaves now, due to his hand. The Iyvess would surely be getting branded as they were purchased, and those brands would probably be slow to heal as well. How long would it be before someone remembered that the new Spiritist in town had shown the same dermal stubbornness. That could definitely be a problem. "I am not up on your charge for aid, but I have already acquired medic-cine. I have a dos-se of Burn S-s...medic-c...cine..." he sighed heavily, "...I am s-sorry, I have a s-stutter s-so I try to avoid that letter. Anyway, I have Burn S-salve, S-sundyra water, and two kind of tea, that the woman at the market told me would help me s-sleep, and be generally good to improve healing. I know how to make the tea, but perhaps-s you could help me with the other?"

[Verena Lorak]

OOCI sincerely apologize for taking so long!! >.<

A young man entered her office somewhat hesitantly. He must have been a foreigner, for he even bowed in her presence. An unnecessary gesture.

He spoke with an obvious difficulty, though Verena was not the sort of person who would mind. If it was another

“You may sit,” Verena suggested blandly as she reached for his hand. Through enough, she could see the raw, blistering skin of a brand. If he only had five days left, that means this particular wound didn’t heal for almost a month. “Brands do take time to wholly heal, though it would seem that your hand hasn’t even entered the initial stage.”

The healer leaned in closer. Most brands would have scabbed over by this time, yet Goneszh still looked like he was branded days ago. Of course, each person would have different capacity of healing, but this was too far from the norm. “Has something like this happened before? Wounds not healing?”

Then, Verena proceeded to place her hand over the man’s brand gently. If the man flinched, she would keep it in place. Almost immediately, she could feel the familiar touch of Rak’keli flaring inside of her, seeking the pain she could ease. She could not fully heal him, of course, but at least her touch might ease the pain and heighten his own healing. But she was curious though. This man must have an underlying disease within him and she was eager enough to figure out what. “We have some in stock here, but it is mostly for treatment in the clinic. You can buy Sundrya and the burn salve at the Midnight Markets.”

[Viszragoneszh]

Viszragoneszh Goneszh figured the girl must not have heard him, but did not complain while her touch was so soothing to his hand. He simply repeated himself."I already have both of the things you mentioned, the s-salve, for the burn, and the water, too. I got them at the Market you mentioned, along with two type of teas, Rug...berry, I think, and another kind I don't remember. Here..." He pulled out the appropriate vials, packets and jars, setting them before the young lady. "I have been wounded plenty before, but no real burn like the one here. I really have no idea why it is not healing well. I am worried that I will not...apply it correctly, and that it will end up being was-sted." Now he took the opportunity to sit, as instructed. "Perhaps-s I am worrying needl-..uh...for no need. But I would at leas-st liked to have s-seen it s-scabbed over by now. I fear an infection, but fear breaking the law here more. The...the Dy-..." he sighed in exasperation over the prominence of "s"es in everything. "I am shorry, if I shay all...of that letter...as a "z" sound, or a 'shh'...then I do not shtutter. Anyway, thish Dynashty rule here sheems none too lenient. I am neither an opponent or PROponent of shlavery, but I think they shnap you up for no reason around here. And I am getting worried that breaking their law about keeping thish brand covered beyond thirty days would be reason enough for them." He elaborated on both his normal rate of healing on wounds like cuts and bruises, as well as his feeling that slavery was a viable punishment, but not a condition to simply impose on someone over conditions that were frequently beyond their doing or control. "Like thish hand, maybe it has shomething to do with my heritage, my...conditioning to a hot, dry environment. The shwampy, humid atmoshphere may be affecting my shkin shomehow. Completely out of my hands. Yet I have thish feeling they would feel like I deserved to be made a shlave for it, like it was shomething I did on purposh." Goneszh was prepared to deliver any convenient lie, basing it on invented physiologies, or supposed laws from the various Eyktol cultures. This woman had no characteristics of anyone likely to hail from that desert region, so she would probably not know any better. He did not care if he really convinced her of any of it. He only wanted to make her uncertain enough to give him some sort of voucher that could allow him to continue keeping his burn wrapped. This was, of course, only if she actually had any such authority, and if the medicines he'd brought had no significant effect.