Penitent-Chapter 16: Old Dog, New Tricks

They arrived in the infirmary with their guard in tow. Meera did not shorten her strides or slow her pace as they walked so Michael had to effect a kind of half-walk, half-run in order to keep up with her. She was tall for a woman, though the people of Stent had so far seemed to tend toward the tall side in general.

Inside were the usual rows of beds, a few with the curtains drawn, and at the far end was the alchemy lab Michael visited every day for his injections. There were two medics attending to a patient at the far end of the room.

“Don’t worry,” said Meera, “No more shots of cursed well water and fortifying draught for you today.”

“Cursed well water?”

She kept walking as she spoke, yanking back a few curtains to the surprise of the young recruits inside as she moved.

“Yes, there’s a village in southwestern Stent where a witch cursed a farmer's well to cause things to age and decay on his farm. That water is what’s used to age you. It has to be mixed a very particular way though. Without it, I’d bet we’d just be bashing Taker’s heads in as babes like the Svict. We hate to let bodies go to waste though.” She pulled away another curtain. “Ah! This one will do.” She yanked the curtain the rest of the way to the side revealing a young man who was somehow still asleep. His hand was wrapped heavily in a cast and slightly elevated by a leather strap. She smacked his face a few times, and after a heavy snore he awoke.

“What,” he blinked bleary eyed. “Diviner Meera?” He shook some of his sleep away, wincing a bit as the motion moved his hand. “Divines… I’m not dying or something right? It’s just a broken hand from Endo’s damned feint!”

“No, you’re not dying,” she said before muttering a bit quieter, “at least not until you get to the front.”

“What?”

She pointed at Michael. “So, give it a try. See if you can heal him.”

He turned his attention to Michael, his face contorting from confusion into a scowl. “A Taker? Get that bastard away from me. It was bad enough I had to see those creepy little monsters walking to the alchemy room this morning, waking me up.”

“He may be able to heal your hand,” said Meera. “I’m happy to wake up a different recruit though if you’d prefer.”

The young man’s face contorted a bit before he nodded. “Fine. I don’t want to fall behind too much.”

Meera looked at Michael, gesturing toward the young man with a nod of her head.

Michael nodded back to her, and focused on his right hand. He tried to recall that heat he’d felt in it, the touch of Sara’s hand as he’d passed. He inhaled deeply, the sounds of the hospital room fading. His hand started to grow warm, then hot, and a golden glow began to radiate from it. He moved toward the young recruit, and gently placed his hand on the boy’s cast. His hand heated a bit more, and then the glow faded, as did the feeling of his wife’s hand in his own.

He stumbled back a bit, feeling winded, and flexed his hand.

“Does it feel better?” asked Meera.

“Uh, I can’t really tell,” replied the recruit.

Meera slapped his wrapped hand, causing him to jump.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, yanking his hand back quickly from her and cradling it. He looked at it, and rotated it at his wrist a few times. He then started to tear off the cast, Meera grabbed his hand again and pulled it toward herself, pulling a small knife from somewhere and cutting off the rest of the wrapping away.

“Oh, wow,” he said, flexing his fingers. “It feels just like it did before it broke. It’s not even purple anymore.” He looked at Meera. “Thank you.”

She gestured toward Michael. “Thank him, he’s the one who did it.”

“No.”

Meera shrugged. “I’ll leave that up to the divines to judge you on that.”

A medic approached from the far side of the room, a bit of blood on her sleeve. “What’s going on over here Diviner?”

“Just testing this irregular to see his healing blessing in person, Marta.”

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The medic frowned and leaned toward the patient, squinting at his hand and moving his fingers and squeezing parts of his palm. “Well, it’s safe to say that it’s working.” The medic looked at the young man. “I’d say you’re good to return to your class. I believe I saw them starting some physical conditioning, carrying buckets filled with rocks across the old jousting lanes.”

The boy frowned. “You’re sure it’s completely better? I mean, I can stay here a bit longer if I need to.”

The medic nodded. “You’re fine. Get out of here. I’ll be letting your instructor know that you left at exactly a third of sun.”

“Yes ma’am,” said the young man pushing himself out of bed and gathering some belongings.

The medic turned to Meera and Michael. “Do you think he could do that a few more times?”

Meera looked at him. “Well, can you?”

Michael took a breath. He was feeling winded, but healing that recruit had felt right. The first purely helpful action he’d managed to take since he’d gotten there. The screams of the family he’d been taken from seemed quieter in his mind.

“I can,” he said.

The medic nodded, and gestured for them to follow. He was taken to three of the worst cases. A young recruit that had been thrown from his horse and broken his leg, a new cook from the main cafeteria that had accidentally cut her hand deeply, and a recruit whose shield had shattered from a strike breaking his arm and covering him in painful splinters. The last one had taken the most out of Michael, and after he watched the last of the splinters push themselves out, he’d nearly fallen as his legs began to give out.

Marta caught him, as if she’d been ready for it, and put him gently in a chair, starting to examine him even as she placed him down.

“Exhaustion. He’s as tired as if he’d been doing an hour straight of intense physical conditioning,” She stood and poured him a cup of water that she then took a small amount of powder and mixed into it. “Drink this,” she said, handing it to him.

He took it, and drank it quickly. It tasted a little bit like lemon water, and he felt a bit of his strength return. He handed the cup back to her.

“Interesting. Recovery from using blessings must be quicker than actual physical exertion.”

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Meera raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

After a few minutes Michael was able to bring himself back to his feet without too much trouble.

“I think that’s all for the day,” said Meera, “Don’t want you to have to put him in a bed here too.”

The medic nodded. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind, you just saved me a lot of work. I may even be able to get some reading done.”

“Are you reading the new Soldier’s Slave?” asked Meera leaning in.

“Not the new one, I’m two behind, but maybe I can bring that down to one today.”

Meera made a bit more smalltalk, and then they made their way back to the chapel.

“So, can regular mages do any kind of healing?”

She shrugged. “They can kind of help to heal. They can use magic to perfectly set bones, sew skin back together, or even stop bleeding with liberal application of fire, but mages with those talents are better used offensively than as medics. They don’t really heal anyway, so much as facilitate another person’s ability to heal.”

“What’s ‘Soldier’s Slave?”, he asked as they neared the chapel.

“A very graphic romance. It’s on its fourth issue. The fifth is out, but I don’t know when a copy will make its way here.”

“Is there a library or…?”

“There is, but it’s full of history and military strategy. Dry stuff. We usually have to wait for a copy to arrive here and get a mage to do a few ink-transfer spells to make copies.”

“How does the author get paid?”

“Paid? She has a patron that sees to her needs. Every book has a dedication to her. ‘To the esteemed Countess Seravania.”

They reached the chapel again and walked inside, the door held open by their recruit escort.

“So,” said Meera, clapping. “We’ve established that you can’t only heal broken noses, which is an excellent start.” She walked into a door off the side of the chapel, behind the altar, and returned wheeling out a large mirror. Both the recruit and Michael moved to help her, but she gestured them away. “I’m not so old I can’t move a mirror on wheels.”

“I’ve been older than you,” replied Michael, “moving large furniture is a two person job no matter your age.”

“Bah,” said Meera, leaving the mirror in the center of the chapel.

“Stand in front of the mirror, and read me out your titles and deeds.”

Michael nodded, and moved in front of it, waiting for the spidery gold script to settle into something he could read.

Titles:

Michael Mann

The Restored

Deeds:

Blessings:

Healing hand

Michael read out what he saw, noting that the ‘Blessings’ section was new.

“You see no information aside from that?” asked Meera.

He nodded.

“Those touched by the divine all have the ability to be diviners. While all Takers should be able to read their own Titles and Deeds, you should be able to read anyone's. You should also be able to draw out far more information than what you can see now.”

“How?” he asked.

“Empathy, putting yourself into their headspace. It’s easier to do if you know the person, or if they give you permission to divine them. Once it’s trained enough though, you’ll be able to read people whether they want you to or not, whether or not they’re very different from you.”

The recruit coughed.

“Excuse me ma’am, it’s nearly the second sun. Michael is to report to Dugan the quartermaster.”

“Oh, guess I lost track of time. We’ll pick this up tomorrow then.” She looked at the guard. “You can take him away.”

He nodded, and they began walking out of the chapel.

Michael could already tell that Meera was going to be very helpful, and not only for developing his skills as a diviner. She had freely shared a number of things about the world that he’d so far only been able to guess at. They had nobility aside from the King, there was a patronage system for the arts, ink transfer spells were used likely instead of a printing press, there was a library on the academy premises, and the inoculation that had been aging them was made up of cursed well water, meaning curses existed as did witches. Unlike Dugan and Kline, she spoke very freely, which meant that he’d be able to greatly increase his knowledge of the world outside of the academy.