by James Evans
The door opened and Gavelis came into the room leading possibly the most ancient person Krant had ever seen. She was tall and thin, her grey hair braided and dangling to her waist. Her face was etched with decades - or maybe centuries, Krant couldn’t tell - but her eyes sparkled and she smiled in a friendly way as she approached his bed.
“Good morning Master Krant,” she said, her voice carrying no hint of a rural accent, “Mr Gavelis tells me that you have endured a degree of violence and suffered injury as a result.” She sat on the very edge of his bed and looked closely at his face. Krant nodded and opened his mouth to speak but she just held up a finger.
“My name is Ethelda Benedict. When you speak, you may call me Ms Benedict. Mr Gavelis has described your injuries but I need to examine you myself. If at any time you wish me to leave and never return, simply behave badly or in a threatening manner. I am sorry that it is necessary to proceed like this but I have firm rules and they must be respected. I have explained these rules to Mr Gavelis and he has vouched for your good conduct but if you break them I will leave. Do you understand?”
Krant looked at Gavelis, who nodded, then back at Ms Benedict. He felt, in the power of her gaze, like a small child confronting a formidable teacher. He nodded, hoping that he had conveyed the appropriate level of respect.
“Good. Then I shall begin by removing your shirt and examining your chest.” She moved quickly and with evident experience, pulling back Krant’s sheets then producing a pair of shears from her bag and snipping quickly through the material, removing his ruined shirt. Krant’s chest was a mass of violent purple bruises and Gavelis seemed surprised.
“I’m sure the marks were less obvious last night,” he said.
“Yes,” said Ms Benedict, “they probably were. But overnight the bruises have bloomed and the internal bleeding has continued. Be quiet, now, while I work.” Gavelis shut his mouth and stepped back, sitting down on his own bed to watch.
“Hmm. It would have been better to call me last night. And administering a sedative was probably a bad idea. Yours?” she glanced at Gavelis, who nodded, “Yes, well, I’m sure you thought you were helping your employer, but next time remember healing first, sleep second.”
Gavelis, for the first time since Krant had met him, looked somewhat humbled.
Ms Benedict probed gently at Krant’s ribs, testing for broken bones. Krant winced and closed his eyes as pain burst from his chest.
“Yes. Two broken ribs and two more fractured. I suspect the pain you feel, Master Krant, is because one of your ribs has punctured your lung. This is causing internal bleeding which will, if left untreated, kill you.”
She continued her examination, ignoring Krant’s sudden look of horror. The pain had told him that his injuries were bad but he had never thought they might be life-threatening.
“Can, can you help?” he asked, gasping the words out between waves of pain.
Ms Benedict stopped and looked at him.
“Yes, I can help.” She smiled at him and brushed the hair back from his face.
“Lie still, don’t try to speak, just let me work.” She took two charmed tools and a wad of leather from her bag.
“This is going to hurt. I have to pull your ribs back into place before I can set them. Bite down on this, if it helps.” She pushed the leather wad between Krant’s teeth, ignoring the terrified expression on his face, then turned to her tools. She focussed power into the charms and sent tendrils of power directly into the wound, feeling her way around the mangled flesh.
“Here we go,” she said quietly.
She tweaked the power in one of the charms and Krant screamed into the leather as the bones moved beneath the skin. Ms Benedict frowned and shifted the power between the two charms, working them gently to move the bones back into place. After a few minutes, she sat up a little straighter and rolled her shoulders. Krant lay still, unconscious but breathing steadily.
“And now to stop the bleeding,” she muttered, pulling a third tool from her bag and switching around the other two. She bent over Krant again, focussing more power and delving deep into his chest. She muttered to herself continually as she moved the tools across Krant’s skin, concentration furrowing her brow as she worked, but finally she stopped and set down her tools. She probed gently at Krant’s chest with her fingers but he didn’t wake or wince and Ms Benedict nodded in satisfaction.
“That,” she said, re-packing her tools, “is all I can do for him. I’ve set his bones, repaired his lung and stopped the bleeding. The bruises will be painful for a week or so and he’ll need to rest for a few days but he should be fine.” Gavelis let go the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.
“Thank you, Ms Benedict. I am very grateful and I am sure Master Krant will be even more grateful, when he awakes.”
“Yes, well. I am glad to give satisfaction, but these things always come at a price, I’m afraid. Sometimes I am able to decline payment in lieu of favours or other goods but you, I think, have further to travel and our paths are unlikely to cross again, so,” she held out her hand, waiting, “cash, as agreed, please.”
“Happily,” said Gavelis, “and if I am ever in need of healing services again in this area I hope I can call upon you again.” He counted out the agreed fee and handed it over with a smile.
“Thank you,” said Ms Benedict, slipping the coins into her own purse, “I would of course be happy to see you again, although hopefully not because you have received a beating.” She smiled at him and finished packing away her tools then opened the door, holding it while she stood on the threshold.
“This isn’t a bad town, Mr Gavelis, but it has some bad people in it. Take care.”
She went to close the door but Gavelis put his hand on her arm.
“You’ve been around these parts for a while,” he observed, “you must have seen many unusual, ah, skills?”
Ms Benedict’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Gavelis.
“That’s either the must roundabout pick-up line I’ve ever heard or you want something. Spit it out, Mr Gavelis.”
He coughed and offered her an eager smile.
“I’m looking for old knowledge, skills long forgotten.” He paused again, peering intently at Ms Benedict’s face. “What can you tell me about Bone Wrights?”
As he asked the question he felt her stiffen before she snatched her arm away from his grasp.
“You do know the term,” he said, face eager, eyes alight, “tell me!”
She stepped quickly away from, further into the corridor.
“Tell you? I’ve spent the last two centuries healing people, Mr Gavelis. Is that even your real name? Bah! I don’t want to know. You’re too young, Mr Gavelis, too young by far and even if you weren’t I’d refuse to teach you such skills.”
She looked at him and her face was dark with anger. Gavelis had a sudden feeling of dread and danger, as if a terrible power were nearby. He shuddered and looked suddenly around as the feeling grew. Ms Benedict stood in the corridor, no longer a friendly healer but, somehow, transformed into a being of awful threat and menace.
Gavelis blinked in fear and stepped back into the bedroom, slamming the door and throwing the bolt. He lurched across the room, clutching the handle of a knife and pointing the blade back towards the door, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his hands clammy and shaking, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
He stood there in silent terror as the feeling slowly faded, then he lowered the knife, staring down at his treacherous hands as they shook. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, then he sheathed the knife and shook his head.
“Bad move, Gavelis,” he whispered to himself, “very bad.” He lowered himself gently onto his bed and began absent-mindedly sorting his things, packing and re-packing until he was happy that everything was in its proper place, comforting himself with the familiar routines.
After an hour, his hands stopped shaking and he was able to stand without feeling sick. Krant still slep
t, so Gavelis, feeling somewhat restored but still not quite himself, went downstairs to find something to eat.
The inn’s common room was mostly empty but Gavelis found a maid and ordered some food. As he chewed his bread and cheese, Gavelis’ gaze wandered across the room. There was only one other occupied table; three middle-aged men sat nursing their beer and complaining about the price of flour until a fourth man came in through the front door.
“Hey, Tad,” said one of the seated drinkers, waving his hand at the newcomer, “join us for a drink.”
Tad came over quickly, dragging a chair with him, and sat down at the table.
“You’ll never guess. You know Ratchet, that loser who begs and picks pockets down by the gate?”
“Him with the bad teeth and the skin problems? Bit of a git, if you ask me,” said one of the other drinkers, sipping his beer, “and he never stands his round neither. Right tight bastard he is. What of ‘im?”
“He’s dead. Struck down in the street by some ruffian. There was all sorts of screaming last night when some woman stumbled over his corpse in the dark. Near scared her half to death, tripping on his boots. She thought ‘e were drunk, till she saw the blood and the guts and huge ‘ole in his chest.”
“A hole? What do you mean, hole?” said the third drinker, beer half-raised but temporarily forgotten.
“A hole. A bloody great hole, big as your fist I heard, all the way through his chest.”
“Nah, I don’t believe it. What could do that to a man?”
“Some sort of spear, maybe, but it’d have to be a bloody big one.”
“Or magic,” said the youngest of the drinkers, beer froth hanging from his wispy moustache, “one of those charm things the Imperial Shock troops use. I heard they could make holes in tables n’ anything.”
“Magic!” scoffed the second drinker, “You want to get your head seen to, mate.”
“No, he’s right,” said Tad, “Leastways, Squint in the Watch told me they’re looking for someone with a big fucking charm, something really nasty.”
Gavelis took another bite of bread and chewed slowly. He wasn’t particularly concerned by the news that the Watch were hunting for a talented assailant but he was a little worried about Krant. There was nothing to tie them directly to the death but an astute Watchman or gate guard might notice Krant’s injuries and connect them to a back-street mugging, maybe even make the leap to a murder in a dark alleyway. At the very least, such a turn of events would delay them; at worst, it could prove fatal.
Gavelis weighed their options. Krant needed to sleep and eat and Gavelis doubted he would be able to travel today even if he woke soon enough. They could try to slip out after dark but that would be highly suspicious. Nobody travelled after dark without a very good reason except as part of a large group, and even then they would think twice. The roads around here, outside the Empire and away from the towns, were not even completely safe during the day.
And then there was Ms Benedict. She didn’t know who they were - she hadn’t seemed interested in knowing anything about them beyond their names - and she didn’t really know the circumstances of Krant’s injuries, but she was a smart woman with long experience. It wouldn’t take much for her to put two and two together and direct the Watch their way. She had certainly recognised him as talented but would she do anything if she realised he might be the one the Watch were searching for? Gavelis didn’t think that she was the sort of person who would report a patient to the Watch but it might not be wise to test that assumption - he had been wrong about people in the past and experience had made him wary.
He listened a little more to the drinkers at the next table but their conversation quickly turned from the useful and interesting to the dull and fatuous as they discussed, with scant knowledge and less insight, the best way to tackle someone with a dangerous charm. Gavelis finished his meal and went back to the room to check on Krant. Everything was quiet except for Krant’s snoring so Gavelis sat for a while reading a small volume of essays he had acquired during his brief time in Esterengel.
By mid-afternoon, with Krant still sleeping, Gavelis set down his book, stretched, and stood up to look out of the window. The room overlooked a wide street that opened onto the main market square. By leaning out through the opened window, Gavelis could see the market stalls, their canvas roofs poking above the heads of the people crowded into the square. The day had dawned bright and sunny and the muddy streets had dried quickly. If the weather held until tomorrow they should have good conditions for travelling.
Gavelis sat back down on the bed and reviewed his plans for the next day. They would leave soon after dawn, he decided, and aim to get through the gates in the first rush of travellers. Many people would leave the town early in the morning to be sure of reaching the next town or their destination before nightfall. He and Krant would be made more conspicuous by their horses but they were less likely to be challenged, even as foreigners, if they were mounted. An early start would be unpopular with Krant but Gavelis was happy to trade unpopularity for convenience.
Krant woke later in the evening and sat up. Gavelis was still reading by the last light of the sun but he put the book down as Krant stirred.
“Good evening, sir. How are you feeling?”
Krant stretched, winced, then stretched again, testing the limits of his mobility.
“Evening, Gavelis? Have I slept all day?” Gavelis nodded.
“Well, I feel much better, thank you. Not quite perfect but certainly much more alive than I did when the doctor arrived.”
Krant raised his arm and moved the blanket so that he could inspect his bruises, which flowered purple and green across his chest. He poked gingerly at his ribs and took a slow, experimental, deep breath.
“Colourful, but less painful than I had expected. That doctor knew what she was doing, it seems.”
“Indeed, sir. I wasn’t sure you would remember her visit.”
“I don’t think I do remember it, not all of it. But enough of that. Is there any food, Gavelis? I’m ravenous.”
“Certainly sir, let me see what the kitchen can offer.” Gavelis left the room and banged down the stairs, returning a few minutes later with a tray holding two large bowls of stew, a loaf of bread, a large piece of cheese, some butter and a flagon of wine. Gavelis passed a bowl of stew and a portion of bread and cheese to Krant and sat down on his own bed to eat.
“We need to discuss our plans for tomorrow, sir,” said Gavelis.
“And we need to talk,” said Krant around a mouthful of bread, “about what happened in the alleyway. That man - did you kill him?”
Gavelis was silent for a moment.
“Yes. It seemed to be the fastest way to stop him killing you, sir. Is that a problem?”
Krant looked surprised.
“Problem? That you killed him to protect me, or that he had the opportunity to beat me like he did? I’m not upset about his death, Gavelis, but I do object to being abandoned and beaten up while you swan off on your own account.” Gavelis bristled at the criticism but said nothing, so Krant continued.
“You seem, Gavelis, to have a very broad skill set for a humble manservant. And at least one tool that falls outside the traditional, ha, ‘arsenal’, of the valet.”
“Yes, sir,” said Gavelis, looking at him, wondering how much to say, “I think it might be best all round for you to assume that I am not merely a valet and that my expertise extends into a number of areas more normally associated with soldiers. Beyond that I suggest you do not question, since I will not be able to answer honestly.”
Krant looked at him over his spoon, which hovered in mid-air dripping stew into the bowl.
“Well. Right, yes. Yes. Well, I certainly don’t want to ask awkward questions,” he said sarcastically. Krant finished guiding the spoon to his mouth.
“So what now? You killed him, we’re both alive, I guess we still have to head for Vensille?” he finished, hoping that Gavelis would say they could go home
.
“Yes, we still head for Vensille. And sooner, rather than later. Ms Benedict counselled rest and recuperation, for a few days at least but the Watch found the corpse and seem to have determined that he was killed by someone of talent.”
“Well, so what? He attacked an Imperial envoy and got everything he deserved!”
“Yes, but they won’t see it like that,” said Gavelis slowly, as if explaining to a child, “we are outside the Empire, just far enough that they want to exert their independence. I doubt they would listen to our explanation, let alone believe it.”
“You’re saying the Watch might be unfriendly?” said Krant, frowning.
“Yes, possibly very unfriendly. I think there’s a fair chance they would hang us quickly in the market square and to hell with the consequences.”
Krant blanched and set down his bowl. Even at his most cynical, he had thought places beyond the Empire as basically the same as Esterengel but with different food. Being hanged as a murderer without even an opportunity to defend himself before a magistrate was beyond anything he had imagined.
“But I don’t think it needs to come to that,” said Gavelis, “if we move quickly and keep our heads. The Watch are searching for a killer amongst the talented but”
“I’m talented!” said Krant, cutting to what he saw as the heart of the issue.
“Yes, so am I,” said Gavelis patiently, “but from what I learned downstairs their understanding of talent and charms may well mislead them. And I can’t believe that they’ll worry for too long about finding the killer of a petty criminal, so we just need to keep calm and leave as soon as we can. Early in the morning, with the first of the day’s travellers, I think.”
“Tomorrow? Not this evening? Maybe it would be better to get away now before anyone finds us.”
“Nobody knows we are here, except Ms Benedict, and I don’t think she will report us to the Watch. And nobody travels at night - it’s too dangerous. First thing in the morning is our only option, so eat up, get some rest and I’ll wake you at dawn.”
