He’d gotten off easy, and he knew it. Only the fact that the foreigner had wanted to know who had sent him and what Mags knew had kept the man from just taking out a sword or a knife and killing him on the spot. He could have gotten away with it too, before Dallen got there.
Strangely, that realization didn’t make Mags feel frightened, just grateful.
There were birds outside the window, just ordinary creatures chirping cheerfully, but caught up in the lassitude of this morning, Mags found it very pleasant to listen to. Whatever had been in that medicine that the Healer had given him last night had left him still feeling pleasantly numbed and just sleepy enough to enjoy lying abed. Aside from the bruises, of course. He made a conscious effort not to move, because moving still hurt quite a lot. Not moving was nice. He even closed his eyes and dozed a little, and woke up a second time only when a voice roused him.
“Usually when I see someone with two black eyes, they tell me the other fellow looks even worse,” said Bear, making him open those blackened eyes and squint at him.
The young Healer-Trainee was standing at the foot of his bed and peering at him somewhat anxiously through those thick lenses. He looked as if he had been awake for several candlemarks already.
“Nope. I barely nicked ’im,” Mags admitted. He wiggled his jaw a little. It hurt, but not nearly as much as last night. “Least I kin talk this mornin’. Bastard ’bout broke m’jaw and tried t’ knock out teeth.”
Bear came close and peered at his face, moving his head from side to side. “Most of the swelling is gone from around your eyes, or I doubt you’d be able to open them,” he observed, “Or at least, so I surmise. You’ll look like a ferret for a while, but that’s just looks, and I am pretty sure we can do something about the bruising so you don’t look like Gennie beat you at the Kirball game.”
Mags grunted. “ ’M not ’xactly anybody’s sweetheart. Reckon that bruisin’ won’ keep the girls away anymore’n they already are.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.” Bear grinned. “You’re something of a minor hero. You spotted the bad fellow, you had the courage to follow him, and you moved in close to try and learn what you could. Plenty of people would have figured telling the other Heralds was doing your duty enough. Following him to the right inn was going above that. And going right inside isn’t something I would have tried. Mind you, Dallen is a bigger hero.”
“ ’E should be.”
:Why, thank you!:
“Yer right there. ’E saved m’life. ’E came at that bugger e’en though the bastard was hackin’ at ’im right smart.” Mags put up a hand to touch his puffy face, and winced. “Me, all I did was get m’face in th’ way of ’is fist.”
The Healer from last night came in behind Bear, and theatrically clutched at his chest. “Dear gods. No boasting. I have a Herald Trainee in my care who isn’t boasting about how bad his assailant looks.”
Mags got a better look at him, now that there weren’t two of him. Medium height, a sort of pleasantly-plain face, brown hair, brown eyes. Nothing very distinguishing about him, other than an expression of sour weariness that looked as if it was habitual.
:I’m sure his mother loves him,:
said Dallen sarcastically.
:Hush, you.:
“I believe my heart will stop from the shock of such behavior, modesty, and good sense. I don’t believe I have ever had a patient like you before,” the Healer concluded. “Hello, Trainee Bear, you are just the person I was hoping to see. Have you any suggestions for me to help my patient look less like he landed face first in a vat of blackberries?”
Bear pursed his lips, and looked just a little surprised. “Aye, a few. Leeches won’t hurt. Draw off some of that blood that’s in the bruises.”
The Healer nodded. “Leeches it is. If you want to run the treatment, you have my permission. I highly approve of things that don’t require the Gift.”
“Me too,” Mags said fervently. “Like what ’f sommun was brought in so bad hurt ’e was tore up inside, an’ ye’d wasted a mort’ a Healin’ on me?”
The Healer looked surprised and gratified. “Tell that to your Companion, would you?” the Healer replied. “If he doesn’t stop ambushing me whenever I step outside the Collegium I am going to put in a strong recommendation that he be volunteered to haul firewood until you’re on your feet and out of here.”
:I heard that!:
:Ye been pretty rude.:
:He wasn’t taking your condition seriously!:
:That’s on account of it ain’t serious.:
“Yessir,” Mags said politely, though the only reason he didn’t laugh was because he knew it would hurt too much.
“I’ll do the leeching, sir,” Bear said. “I’ve done it a lot.”
“Then I’ll put in an order for the leeches, thank you, Bear. Your breakfast is on the way, Trainee. Oh, something you should know. I think besides Mindspeech you either have, or are developing, a bit of Empathy. As strong as your Mindspeech is, it probably won’t be much, but it might be useful to you to know you have it. If your shields aren’t already handling it, come see one of us about it.”
“Uhm . . . yessir,” said Mags. What else was he to say, after all?
“And Bear, whatever you care to give him, I endorse.” The Healer’s faintly sour expression had faded, replaced by faint good humor.
“Yessir, Healer Juran, sir,” Bear said, and the Healer bustled off, stopping to check someone in a bed at the far end of the room, before leaving through the door on that end, off on some other urgent task.
Mags gazed after him, thoughtfully. This was the first time he’d actually been treated by a Healer, but he’d watched a few, and to tell the truth, the man’s straight-forward sarcasm appealed to him. “I like ’im,” Mags said. “ ’E don’t mess about. I don’ like people what won’t tell ye the truth. I don’ mind him bein’ a bit sharp; reckon Heralds don’ make th’ best patients.”
“I like him too, but there’s plenty that don’t,” Bear replied.
:Like me,:
came the sulky comment.
:Haul wood indeed!:
“He’s good enough that I have the feeling he talks like that in order to keep troublesome patients away. You know, the ones that make out as if a bit of gout is going to kill them.” Bear pulled back the covers to look at the bruises on Mags’ belly.
“How bad are you hurting?” Bear continued. “Cause between you and me, I think you should sleep some more. Specially when I get the leeches, they really make some people feel sick to look at.”
“I could sleep,” Mags admitted. “I’druther eat first, though. An’ I ain’t worrit ’bout leeches. Had worse’n leeches where we all bedded down at th’ mine, I reckon. All manner of bugs and creepies. Rats runnin’ over ye in the middle of the night.”
Bear shuddered. “Aye, that’s worse. All right, I’ll go make you a dose; you can have it after you eat.”
One of the Healer’s Collegium servants came in at that moment with a tray loaded down with soft foods—oatmeal, soft eggs, mashed apples and tea. Mags tucked into it while Bear went off somewhere and came back with one of those mugs that always seemed to hold medicine, and a pair of jars.
“Drink this, and if you really want to watch, I’ll start now,” Bear said.
Bear had not sweetened the stuff. Mags managed not to choke. “Sure, I wanta watch,” he said, with some interest. “Mebbe I kin use this sorta thing if I gotta out in the field. So tell me why’s ye do this?”
Bear fished a leech out of the jar and applied it carefully to a badly bruised and swollen part of Mags’ belly. “The muscle gets all crushed, blood goes in but can’t get out. That keeps things from healing as fast as they could. The leech pulls it out, watch.”
Mags watched as the ugly little bit of black slime swelled up to a fat little pod of black slime. Sated, it detached itself. Bear caught it before it could fall into the blankets and dropped it in another jar. “It works really well where people have had fingers or toes crushed instead of broken—or well, lots of things, any time blood doesn’t seem to be actually flowing.”
“So—what’s it do, now it’s full?”
“We’ll go put them where they can go make babies now they’re fed,” Bear said. “We try and breed our own, so we know they come from clean water and don’t have anything nasty about them. Look at where he was.”
Sure enough, the area was less swollen and not as blue. Bear applied a few more. Mags watched them, fascinated. “This is why some people call a Healer, especially one that doesn’t have a Gift, a ‘leech,’ ” Bear went on. “Animal Healers use leeches too.”
“Huh.” There was actually something rather . . . appealing about the idea. That this ugly little thing could help a person heal, without a Gift. “You gonna put those on m’face too?”
“Aye, if you don’t mind.”
He yawned. “I don’ mind, but I’m feelin’ like I oughta get flat.”
“That’ll help the leeches too,” Bear said, catching one that was full and dropping it in the jar, giving it an oddly fond look.
“Huzzah, leeches, good fer ye,” Mags said muzzily, waiting until Bear had taken the last one off his belly and chest, and scooting down in the bed. “Go make lotsa liddle leeches . . .”
Bear laughed, and he closed his eyes.
He didn’t actually sleep, more like drowsed as Bear worked. He definitely felt Bear put the leeches on his skin; they were cool when they first were put on but quickly warmed up to his temperature, there was a kind of pinpicking sensation he wouldn’t even have noticed against the general ache of his bruises if he hadn’t been concentrating on seeing what it felt like. Then there was a numbing feeling and no more pinprick sensations. He thought about it, and decided that the leeches were probably doing the numbing themselves. After all, it was in their interest to make you not feel it when they were biting you and sucking your blood.
“All done,” Bear said at last, rousing him out a lethargic, dreamy state. “You still awake? You look a lot better.”
“Kinda,” he mumbled. He opened his eyes with an effort. It felt as if he could open them more now. He blinked at Bear, who smiled at him. “So, ye know what happen, down i’ Haven? Thet crazy feller?”
“They found him tied down to a bed in that inn when they broke into the rooms the men had been renting. The Guards brought him up here, and he’s worse than before,” Bear replied, shaking his head. “I don’t know what his so-called friends were dosing him with, but it wasn’t doing him any good, he’s down to skin and bones and raving just as badly as ever. Besides that, he’s suffering from not having whatever drug they were giving him, and the Mindspeakers don’t want to come within a furlong of him. Maybe a really, really powerful Mindhealer could mend him, but we don’t have one strong enough. So they gave him over to me.”
“Well—thet’s good, right?” He blinked again, trying to focus on Bear’s lenses. “ ’Nother reason why yer family cain’t drag ye home?”
“It is,” Bear acknowledged, but looked unhappy, “The thing is I just wish I had more options for dealing with him. Right now all I can do is get him a little healthier and see if some of my remedies can help him out. I don’t like not being able to do something for a patient. And, yes, I know, no one else can either, but . . . well, I really, really want to break him out of this. If Lena is right, and he’s seeing
vrondi
, maybe I can find something, some medicine, in the old records that blocks magic. Or at least blocks Mindmagic. If he doesn’t sense them watching him, maybe we can get through to him. All I was able to do before was to—well, dose him so that he didn’t feel threatened by them watching him, if that makes any sense. I don’t know, even if no one wanted me to try and help this fellow, I would do it.”
Mags pondered this, drowsily, and closed his eyes. “I get it, Bear. Ye wouldn’ be fightin’ t’ be a Healer if’n ye didn’ feel thet way. Healer’s a Healer, bone deep, Gift or no.” He paused. “Am I a fool fer feelin’ sorry fer ’im?”
“No. I do, too. He never did anything to either of us that I know of, and it was his so-called friends that kidnapped me, not him. Besides, I get the feeling he was forced to come here—and I am pretty damn sure he was forced to stay.” The chair scraped against the floor as Bear got up to leave. “I need to take these little fellows back where they belong. I expect you’ll be getting more visitors.”
“Mebbe. An’ if not, I kin sleep.” He couldn’t imagine who, besides Lena, would be all that anxious to see him. Pretty soon everyone would realize just what balderdash that “hero” business was. So long as everybody figured out that he wasn’t the “foreigner” in those visions, he’d count himself a happy fellow.
Bear chuckled. “All right then, sleep. It’ll be good for you.”
He did just that, soothed by the stuff in Bear’s tea, until a servant woke him for lunch, which was more soft food—pease porridge flavored with ham, but without any ham in it, mashed pears, mashed turnips. It was good. The cook had taken extra care with it all, he could tell. He winced a bit even so, as he ate; he supposed he was lucky none of his teeth had actually been knocked out of his jaw.
:Half the Collegium wants to visit you,:
Dallen reported. Mags laughed.