Death & Magic (The Barefoot Healer, volume I)

Death & Magic chapter 1 (The Barefoot Healer, volume I)

Chapter 1

Apprentice Adramal washed the blood from her hands and stood up. The spell fussed around her as it dissipated, white tendrils retreating like mist before the sun. The young farmer she'd just healed stared at his forearm, poking at where the gash from the ploughshare had been.

"A miracle," he whispered. "Thank you."

Adramal tutted. "We don't do miracles here. Only magic." She dipped a cloth in the water bowl and handed it to him. "Clean yourself, then rest for about a watch." She gestured to the row of mattresses at the far end of the infirmary, where several of the morning's patients were recuperating. "After that, you can go home."

He sat up, looking ready to wrestle a bear as he scrubbed his arm. "I feel fine. My wife will be waiting for me."

Adramal shook her head. Most patients were like this the first time they'd been healed by a wizard. "You feel fine now. The spell uses some of your reserves of strength to speed the healing." She must've drawn out more than she needed. Judging the right amount was a skill she still needed to master. "That's what's rushing around your body at the moment. It'll wear off soon, and you'll probably fall asleep."

"Ah. Wouldn't want that to happen on the way home, would I?"

"No." She covered her mouth to hide a yawn — the spell had taken a good deal of her own strength too. "Would you excuse me, please? I have a class to go to. If you need anything, just ask any of the other apprentices."

Adramal walked past the rows of beds towards the door. The infirmary was quiet — only about a third of the places were occupied. A faint white haze hung over the scene — the remnants of all the spells that had been cast here today. The teachers said it was a sign of her skill that she could sometimes see magic without needing a spell of her own to sense it, but Adramal found it annoying, like someone dropping a veil over her face at random intervals.

At the door, Adramal met Teshan, one of the teachers and a member of the Academy's Council. She was a kindly old woman, in charge of the healing classes, and the closest thing Adramal had to a favourite among the staff. Adramal smiled and nodded to her, and stood aside to let her enter.

Teshan didn't smile back. "I was looking for you. Would you come with me, please?" She strode across the square towards the side where the teachers' houses stood.

"What's this about, Lady?" Adramal asked as she followed.

"A private matter," Teshan said without looking back.

At those words, something — Adramal tried not to think of it as someone — stirred at the bottom of her mind. I don't like the sound of that, it said. The thing resembled a girl of about eight, tousle-haired and barefoot. It wore a grubby dress and clutched a crude wooden doll. Adramal had no idea what the creature really was, but its appearance made it hard not to think of it as "she." She had wandered uninvited into Adramal's mind when Adramal was eight, which perhaps accounted for her apparent age. She deflected or refused to answer questions about herself, giving only a name — Lelsarin. She had told Adramal not to tell anyone else about her. Since she seemed not to be harmful, and was occasionally useful, Adramal respected her wishes.

I doubt it's anything you need to worry about, Adramal replied. Probably another of the village girls has found out the hard way how babies are made.

Teshan always smiles when she sees you.

You think I've broken a rule, then?

Maybe. What day is it?

Sujas. Lelsarin frequently claimed not to know what day or even what fortnight it was, saying she preferred sleep to observing the details of Adramal's life. And yet she often spoke in response to something Adramal had just witnessed, suggesting that she observed a good deal more than she admitted.