Metal and Flesh (The Rohvim, Book 1)

2.4 Witchcraft

Aeden sprang to his feet and followed the man back to an office at the rear of the room. Larger than the other rooms surrounding the main floor, it was crammed full of teetering shelves piled high with books and papers. A large desk sat to one side stuffed with parchments, scrolls, books, quills, and half eaten food. Sitting down at the desk, the master healer motioned for Aeden to sit in a chair to his side.

“Good to see you, my boy. Do you remember me?” The man smiled at him, leaning back in his chair and kicking his boots up onto the littered desk.

“I do, sir. You healed me when I was young. Seven, I think.” Aeden cocked his head to the side. “You remember me after all this time and all those people?”

“Of course! I have an excellent memory, if I do say so myself—which I do. Plus, I’ve kept an eye on you since then.” Odd, Aeden thought, but didn’t have time to consider the strangeness of the man as he added abruptly, “Do you believe the healers can heal?”

With the sudden question, he wondered if his time with the master healer would be like the interrogation by the priest. “Of course, sir. I would say the results speak for themselves.”

“Some people think we practice witchcraft, or some other nonsense. What do you think?”

Aeden slowly shook his head. “I … I don’t know. I just know you heal people, and, I assume it’s by the power of the Creator.”

The healer stroked his chin, “And the priests? Why do they not heal, then?”

Aeden tried to hide his bewilderment, with only partial success. “I don’t know, sir. Maybe that is not their job?”

“Good answer, my boy, good answer,” the man chuckled.

“Sir, were you expecting me? It seems as if—almost like…” He trailed off.

“No, Aeden, I was not. But I’m glad you’re here nonetheless. Now, tell me what brings you here. Having some problems? Ah, don’t tell me—the happy rash?”

Aeden felt his cheeks flush red. “What—no! No, nothing like that, I haven’t even—just, no.” Did he ask everyone this? The master healer smirked—Aeden couldn’t help thinking the man enjoyed embarrassing people. “I just thought that … well, I mean, my friend Priam said you wanted to talk to him, and I thought you were going to ask him to join the Society, and I just—” and now that he came to his purpose he felt childish. I’m here because you should be asking me to join the society and not Priam—was all he had to say. Why couldn’t he just say it?

“Well that is very insightful of you, Aeden, in fact, yes, I was going to ask Priam to join the society. But I sense concern in you. Do you disagree with my decision?”

Aeden couldn’t help but relax a bit—had his father asked him whether he disagreed with him, the tone would have been unmistakably dangerous, but when the master healer said it, he sounded perfectly sincere, which made him feel both very mature and very childish at the same time.

He set his jaw—he would make sure to seem mature. “Well, no. Priam’s a great guy. He’d do well, I guess. I just never thought of him as a healer. But, I was wondering, do you think there might be room in the society for two more? We’re great friends, and we could join together, and help each other, and I wouldn’t need any support from the society since my family has enough—I mean, I could pay my own way, and—” The master healer held up a hand. He lifted his boots off the table with a grunt and leaned forward to Aeden, hands clasped under his nose.

“Aeden, Aeden. Why do you want to join the Society? Your father intends for you to serve in the royal guard. Is that not your desire as well? From what I hear, your swordsmanship skills are preeminent. I wouldn’t be surprised if you won the tournament next week.”