Death & Magic (The Barefoot Healer, volume I)

Death & Magic chapter 8

Chapter 8

Adramal lifted her hands from the boy’s thigh and took several deep, shuddering breaths. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. The boy looked as exhausted as she felt.

The boy’s mother sat near the doorway, anxiously watching. The boy had drifted into a light sleep. Adramal had stimulated his body into hastening its natural healing processes, and this had used a lot of his reserves of strength. His breathing was shallow but regular. She touched the side of his neck to check his pulse, finding it normal.

“I’ve finished,” she said. “He’ll be fine.” Her voice seemed to come from a great distance. She hoped she wasn’t shouting to compensate. “His broken leg has started to heal, but it’ll be weak and painful for some time. Keep him in bed for three days, and make sure he doesn’t go running or climbing trees for a fortnight after that. I’ll visit you on Shadrakh’s Day to check on his progress. Send for me if you notice anything unusual before that.”

The mother gazed longingly at her son for a few heartbeats, and Adramal wondered if the woman believed her. Then she whispered, “Thank you. What is your fee?”

Adramal swallowed. “Whatever you can afford,” she said. The woman stared at her, as though suspecting some trick. “Really,” said Adramal.

“I... I have a joint of salt beef in the ice house,” the woman said. “I was saving it for a special occasion. We’d be honoured if you would eat with us tomorrow night.”

“The honour would be mine,” said Adramal. “But I’m dining with Hispar then.” Tomorrow was the end of Adramal’s trial period here, and at the dinner, Hispar would confirm — or so Adramal expected — that the appointment would be permanent. “I’ll come on Arveth’s Day. Besides, if we wait until then, I think your son will have recovered enough to appreciate the meal properly.”

“Then we’ll expect you in two days’ time. Thank you.” The mother lifted her son, resting his head on her shoulder, and stood up with an easy strength.

Adramal’s chest tightened at the memory of how her own mother would sometimes carry her to bed like that. She hoped he would be a lot older before he had to face a loss like hers.

The room seemed to spin, and Adramal closed her eyes to try to counteract the sensation. “I need to rest,” she said. “If there’s anyone waiting outside, would you ask them to come back at the start of third watch?”

Adramal heard the door open and close. It was tempting to lie down on the floor, but she knew she’d wake up stiff and irritable. Outside, the mother spoke with someone, though Adramal couldn’t make out the words. She crawled towards the bed. Nurfadel must have been short even by the village’s standards, since Adramal couldn’t lie straight on it. She’d meant to ask Nurfadel’s son to make a bed that fitted her, but she’d been so busy that she hadn’t got around to it.

She had just clambered onto the bed and made herself comfortable when there came a knock at the door. She wanted to tell the caller to go away, but speaking seemed too much of an effort.

The door opened, revealing the boy’s mother. “Begging your pardon, healer, but there’s a man here to see you. He says he’s come from the city.”

He could have come from Pethandril for all Adramal cared. She pulled a blanket over herself.

“He’s got a horse,” the mother added, as if that would convince Adramal to see him.

A man spoke. “Adramal? Remember me? Captain Tagahra.”

Adramal sat up, seeing the Captain silhouetted in the doorway. “Yes,” she said, “I’m afraid I do. What makes you think you’re welcome here?”