by Celia Lake
His mother threw her head back, and laughed. “Oh, I do like you. I was inclined to, after what Arthur told me.” She nodded, once, precisely as if that settled everything. “And Roland, of course, but one has to allow for somewhat more bias in his evaluation.”
“Mother.” Roland was definitely amused.
She held out her hand, the nails polished to a deep red to match her lips. “Do call me Melusina. And may I be informal with you? I do think that the best plots require a certain amount of informality.”
Elen let out a breath. “Elen, please, at least in private. I do have my responsibilities.” She glanced at the door.
“Oh, quite. Now, do sit down, please. I shall get out something for a proper elevenses. I told that nice orderly not to bother with lunch, I’m sure I can do rather better.” Melusina stood, every fold of her dress immediately falling into place.
Elen had never wanted to have that kind of command over her clothing, to look that elegant, but she suddenly and rather painfully saw the point. This was not a woman anyone in their right mind would ignore, never mind want to anger. She was so precisely groomed, dressed, and made up, that there was no question that she would not be just as capable at anything else she chose. Elen sat.
Roland reached to offer his hand immediately. “She showed up while I was in the bath, and pointed out that she certainly was aware of where all my birthmarks are. Harry held out long enough for me to get dressed, but it was a near thing.”
Elen couldn’t help smiling broadly at that, curling her fingers around his as his mother began to unpack a small portion of the hamper, using swift flicks of a wand she had produced seemingly from nowhere, to direct the various components onto Roland’s table. Sandwiches, some small things that might be savoury tarts or quiche. “Where does one get hot water around here?”
“Oh, I can get that, it’s in the nurse’s lounge.”
“Nonsense. You must be run off your feet.” There was a quick glance at Elen’s shoes, then a tsking sound. “Sensible shoes, certainly, but I’m sure we can do a bit better in the way of practicality.”
“Practicality, ma... Melusina?”
“I suppose you would need to wear shoes like the other nurses, but there are all sorts of quite practical charms for comfort, better padding, certainly for the most comfortable fit. You’re a therapeutes of Sirona, so none of that silly asceticism and suffering for suffering’s sake.”
She produced several ornately decorated small cakes from the hamper, frowned delicately, and then added a jar of what was likely potted shrimp and some small toasts. “I mean, I do respect the people who manage it, I certainly couldn’t, but there’s more than one way to be dedicated to one’s arts, don’t you think?”
“Yes, um. I suppose so?” Elen was feeling utterly adrift. If it hadn’t been for Roland’s hand around hers and his amusement, she might have thought she was hallucinating.
“There, that’s a start. Now, the water.” She moved to the tea pot, sprinkled a handful of tea leaves from a tin in her hand in the bottom, then poured cold water from the pitcher in. She inhaled once, as if testing that everything was proper, then made a few precise gestures with her wand, murmuring something under her breath that sounded almost musical.
“Roland mentioned that your family considers heat, light, and solidness the most practical magics to know well.”
“Oh, we do.” Melusina turned back, beaming. “We’ll just let this steep.” She set the pot on the table with the rest of the food. “I am perhaps a little less patient than my husband and son.”
Roland snorted. “That is understating it, mother,” he pointed out. “You did have a reason for turning up this morning, though?”
“I did. We have been busy untangling exactly what has been going on here, working on it from the angles we can. Roland did explain, Elen, I hope, what I do?”
“Not precisely, but I gather that was somewhat intentional? You’re a specialist in complex magics, often abroad dealing with unusual problems, was what I had gathered.” Elen kept her voice as even as she could.
“That will do to be going on with. My usual line of work is for the Ministry, or the near equivalent, which means I am also more practised than any sensible person would want to be in unravelling bureaucratic plots. And this certainly seems to be one of those.” She tapped the teapot once with her finger. “You, however, have the necessary situational knowledge, as my husband would say.”
“It is a rather large topic.” Elen managed to cut off the ‘ma’am’ that kept trying to escape.
Melusina waved her hand. “Explain to me the hierarchy here. From your position up, not the top down. For the moment.”
It seemed an odd way to go about things, but Elen was not at all inclined to argue. “This is one of the wards for long-term care. More commonly, several nurses would be assigned to the ward as a whole, but private nurses may be assigned.”
“As one has been assigned to Roland, since he arrived, yes? Has there been any particular set of skills beyond what you would expect?”
“No.” Elen had considered that before. “I don’t know who the others are. Were. But they didn’t ask me about anything beyond the skills we all have.” She then glanced at the door.
Melusina made a slight gesture with her wand, a sigil of some kind that left a brief glowing trail. Then she repeated it at the window. “No one will overhear us, and we will hear if anyone is coming.”
It was that show of magic that convinced Elen of precisely how competent Melusina was. And not just skilled and knowledgeable, but powerful. Most people could not produce a visible show of the magic itself. “You were not permitted to read Roland’s records?”
“No, and that is quite unusual. I asked several times, and several different people.” Elen swallowed, and continued. “I was assigned here by the Archiater, the chief administrator. I report directly to Sister Almeda, who oversees the long-term care wards.”
“Not to a ward sister?”
“No.” Elen considered. “I suppose there aren’t that many of us here. Or perhaps some of the wards report to someone else. Long-term care usually is a slow process. I normally make weekly reports with a summary, with additional notes for unusual events. Or of course alerting someone immediately if there’s a crisis.”
“I gather not always.” Melusina’s voice became dry. “When it might cause problems for my son. Why didn’t you report that?”
Elen let out a long breath. “I should have. But by that point, I was no longer certain that reporting it would benefit his care. I hit a wall, every time I tried to get more information, about his treatment, or even his injuries. And it was clear the evening potion was doing him no favours.”
Melusina nodded, once. “Tea?” she handed over a cup, to Elen first. It was beautifully fragrant with orange and spices, and a swirl of cream. Elen took a sip, and felt suddenly rejuvenated. Not like it was a potion, but the simple attention, someone giving her something she would enjoy.
Melusina handed the other to Roland, and then settled the table where all three could reach it. “I am supposed to be a stickler for following the rules. In all privacy, and I will deny this in more public settings, I am delighted you did as you did.”
Elen ducked her chin. “My oaths are about the well-being of my patients, Melusina. Not about the rules of men. Or women.”
Melusina laughed again, at that. “Quite so. Quite. And who does Sister Almeda report to, before I ask you what happened after that.”
“She reports to the chief nurse, and the chief nurse reports to the Archiater. Quite a short chain.”
“Very. Much shorter than I’d expected. The chief nurse would be exceedingly busy, of course. And there must be other such chains?”
“Oh, yes. The healers have their own hierarchy. And the healer is considered the one who determines the treatment of a patient. There’s a separate structure for tending to the sacred spaces, the garden shrines, the baths, the bathing rooms. And of course, other
areas like the cooking and the cleaning and the stores. Healer Rhoe is responsible for the baths. I didn’t realise when we first talked to her, how senior she was, comparatively.”
“Would that have stopped you?” Melusina had settled to perch on the end of the bed again.
“No.” Elen spoke cautiously, and took a sip more of tea to give herself time to think. “It was a thing that Roland needed, to begin healing. And it was a thing I had authority to ask for, one of the few.”
“And as you said, you take that most seriously. He mentioned you were reinstated after a particular event, but gave me no details. Nor his father.”
Elen glanced at Roland, who had been quiet throughout this, though he had kept holding her hand until the tea was served. He nodded. “Go ahead, Father will probably ask you other questions later, if you’re willing?”
Elen took another sip of tea to brace herself, startled to discover she’d somehow drunk two thirds of the cup. Melusina took it silently from her hand to refill from the pot. “Healer Cole came in, for the first time since I’d been assigned, the first time Roland remembered. And he thought he had caught us being improper. About to kiss. We weren’t, though I suppose we were both thinking about the possibility.”
“I certainly was.” Roland’s voice was amused. “But I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. Of course, I’m fairly sure now that Cole would have taken any chance to get you in trouble.”
“What did you think of him, Roland, in that first moment?” Melusina’s voice had shifted into something thoughtful, as if much of her mind were processing something in the background.
“He was far too richly dressed. Formal robes, excellent silk. Not quite your quality, Mother, but near that. The other healers we’ve seen, they have working robes. Usually linen or wool. I’m sure the dye was carmine, and one of the three tailors you’d think for the suit under it.”
Roland’s voice had turned precise, and his mother nodded. “Thank you, darling. Do go on, Elen.”
“He sent me away, and I got a letter later that afternoon suspending me indefinitely. I went to see my friend Amet - Mistress Salah.” There was a nod again. “And then a bit later, I got a letter from Healer Rhoe, telling me to meet her on the Temple’s front steps at half nine. She had argued that they put me through an ordeal, in order to determine my innocence.”
“Nothing damaging, I hope? I presume?”
Elen shook her head quickly. “I didn’t know what to expect, but they had a senior priestess of Sirona there. She blessed a cup for me to drink, and I drank it without problems. They all accepted the result, even Healer Cole.”
She looked up, to watch Melusina’s face. “Though he looked uncomfortable. More than uncomfortable. Maybe like he was afraid, all of a sudden? Like something had become real to him? And the Archiater looked - I don’t know. Like he’d started wondering about something being out of order. But it’s not as if anyone would tell me any of that.”
“Not having the sense the gods gave sheep, apparently.” Melusina snorted. “Was that all of it?”
“I didn’t know until I got back here that I was glowing, quite noticeably.”
The reaction was, frankly, delightful. Melusina’s face went blank for a moment, as if that was not information she had expected, as if she were making several dozen new calculations and adjustments. “And being a temple, fundamentally, they took that very seriously, then. If perhaps finding such an overt display of actual religion a bit unbecoming. I begin to see why they let you back. You will, I hope, permit me to pester you with questions in the not too distant future? You do not need to answer them, of course, but I am most curious.”
Elen nodded. “You may ask,” she agreed. “I don’t know what sort of answers I’ll have.”
“Fair, fair. So, that would change the field, certainly. And since then, you have had somewhat more freedom. And you have discovered the... cheapness of the potion provided. What about the morning potion?”
“What it should be, near enough, I gather from the analysis. But that is mostly nutritive, and most of the nutrition potions are fairly inexpensive to make. They either rely on readily available plants, or things like alchemically altered beef broth or milk or some such. The magical work doesn’t need a journeyman, even, just a trained apprentice, and it can be made in barrels. Not more than twice the cost of the base ingredients, generally.”
“And you had no information about what evening potion he should have been getting. That’s thorough. Bluntly done, but thorough.” Melusina clearly hated giving credit to whoever had come up with the idea. “So. Between the potion and the requests for support, they have been clearing a significant amount of coin from us. And from the Ministry. Do you think that might be the case for others? And if so, how could we find out?”
“I think Sister Almeda must know. But I suspect they are suborning her, somehow. I mean, it seems ridiculous, to say ‘they’. But it would take someone to manage the paperwork, someone to provide the alternate potions, someone to force particular treatments. Possibly someone to deal with families. May I ask, what did they tell you?”
“That Roland was terribly badly hurt, that any visit was out of the question. And of course, we had no reply to any of our letters.” Melusina tilted her head. “How much longer would he need to stay here, do you think? First things first, and I admit my own desire to get my only living child out of this place as promptly as possible. Especially if you would be willing to come with him to see to the necessary treatment.”
Elen let out a long breath, not asking about that adjective, or exactly how fierce Melusina might be now. “If there’s someone to help with bathing and such - Roland said he had a man - quite soon, I think. I might wish to consult Healer Rhoe once more, if she were willing. Perhaps another ritual bath.”
“Next week?”
“I believe so.”
“I will make the arrangements. And now, dearest, I need to be going, must see a man about a titch of embezzlement. Don’t wait up.” She stood, bending to kiss Roland on the forehead. “A pleasure to meet you, Elen, and I’ll be seeing you soon. I needn’t ask you to take care of Roland, but please do.”
Then she was gathering up her coat and hat, gesturing with her hand and summoning her magic - all the privacy protections she’d cast - with a snap of her fingers. It came back to her hand in a shower of sparkles, like hounds called to heel. Then she was out the door, leaving behind her the remaining food, a whiff of a perfume Elen could not begin to identify, and a rather large silence.
Chapter 39
Tuesday, June 1st, the healing baths and the garden shrine
Three days later, Elen again escorted Roland to the baths beneath the temple. This time, he realised, they had something different in mind. He was shown into a space dedicated to Sirona, he could tell by the iconography and by the offerings. Elen had described changing them often enough. Even more to his surprise, it wasn’t Healer Rhoe or some stranger who did the invocation.
After he’d been eased into the bath by the orderly, they dimmed the lights. Elen came in, wearing something quite different from her nurse’s uniform. Now, she was dressed more like Healer Rhoe, in a Greek shift of a neutral linen with embroidery along the top of the fabric of a long deep green snake. And her hair was up differently, instead of the tight bun, it was pulled into a loosely coiled puff.
He was suddenly glad that the lights were dim, and she almost certainly couldn’t see much below the water line. His own reactions were being rather insistent, if also informative about his ongoing recovery.
She had smiled at him, then turned to the shrine, making the offerings, then chanting. Her voice, in whatever language it was, was fluid. Then she switched into English, though he listened far more to the tone of her voice than the words. He could see something gather around her. It wasn’t the glow she’d had, after the ordeal. This was far more ephemeral, like the flickers of fireflies in the summer dark. Like them, though, it was rivetingly beautiful.
; As the invocation came to an end, she opened the gate that let the water from the shrine flow down to his bathing pool, and trailed her fingers in it. He could see, or at least felt certain he could, those little flickers of light carried down into his pool, toward him.
He could smell lavender and mint, a strong scent for a brief moment, before it faded out. Then she was turning. She kneeled by him, long enough to kiss him on the top of his head. “I’ll be waiting.” Just those three words.
He opened his mouth, but before he could figure out what to say, she was gone. He was left alone in the near dark with his own thoughts and the lingering magic. As before, there was no bolt of sudden healing, but he could feel himself renewed. More himself, certainly.
He spent the time lost in thought, letting his mind knit up the choices he knew he needed to make. And he needed to make them sooner than he’d have thought possible just a few weeks ago. It was as if things were settling into place, gently and resolutely.
When his time in the bath was done, Elen was waiting for him once he’d dried off and changed. He hadn’t needed the chair to get here, and he didn’t need it now. “Back to the room?”
“I thought we might sit in the garden a bit? It’s beautiful out. Particularly beautiful, I mean.”
“Like you.” It slipped out before he could stop himself. She was back in her uniform, but he thought she still had something of the glow of Sirona around her.
She grinned at him, once, before they came out of the lower passageway, and among people again, and she put on her professional demeanour. He was proud of himself for making it all the way to their usual bench without needing to take a rest. Once they were settled, she offered a flask of tea from her bag, pouring it into the lid for him to drink. He took a long sip, then smiled. “It was different, having you being the one who did the, the prayer?”
“The invocation.” She nodded. “I haven’t, often. Not like that.”
