"Kalinkey?" asked an unfamiliar male voice behind her.
"My sister is out collecting plants," said Zha'nelle. She was tiding the shelves she used for storing the things that she used in treating the injured, her back to the entrance to the healer's alcove. She wasn't rearranging the shelves that contained the drugs, of course. Kalinkey would have a blue fit if she dared so much as touch them. The male didn't sound sick – he probably just had some trifling injury. "Lie face down on the rug, and I will have a look at you in a moment."
Jake Sully did as he was told. The woman who had spoken sounded exactly like one of the senior charge nurses at the VA hospital. They didn't take any crap from any of the injured grunts. There was no point in arguing with them – the best course of action was to just do what they asked. Even the doctors lived in fear of those nurses. This Na'vi woman would have intimidated the Sergeant Major of the Corps, let alone any medical personnel. Not only that, if she had entered the Miss Universe body building competition, she would have blown every competitor out of the arena – going by the ripple of muscles in her back. God knows what she looked like from the front.
"I am sorry," he said carefully. "I am new to the Omaticaya, and do not know your name. Mine is Jake Sully." He had practiced this Na'vi phrase repeatedly, and had used it several times already to good effect.
Zha'nelle froze for a moment as she heard the unmistakeable accent of a tawtute in the too-careful Na'vi. It was Zhake'soollly, the uniltìranyu – the broken one. She had not expected to come face to face with him. She sighed softly. If he was here, then Eywa meant for him to be here.
"I am Zha'nelle, one of the healers here," she answered, turning around to face him, but he was already face-down on the floor. "What appears to be the problem?"
"My neck is sore," said Jake, his voice muffled by the rug. There was a hole in the rug for his nose, which was placed over a depression in the floor. "Ney'tiri was teaching me how to fall from the heights of the forest. It did not go well."
"You can speak 'Ìnglìsì," she said in her Na'vi accented English, "If it will make you more comfortable. I am quite fluent, although I get little practice now."
Jake replied in halting Na'vi, "Irayo. I need the practice, so I speak Na'vi." Zha'nelle was right – her English was very fluent. It was much better than Ney'tiri's, but then she was older – or at least he thought she was. It was very difficult to judge the age of Na'vi adult females. He frowned – she had an unusual name, or at least it seemed unusual – it sounded more like a Na'vi pronunciation of Janelle than anything else. "Ney'tiri told me that she did not want to hear me moaning about my sore neck all day, so she sent me here to see Kalinkey."
"That sounds like Ney'tiri," said Zha'nelle. She knelt alongside Jake and started to feel along his spine. It was quite a mess – there were so many displacements, minor muscle tears and tight tendons, it would take over an hour to treat him properly – perhaps closer to two.
"You know her?" asked Jake. She might look tough, but Zha'nelle had an amazingly gentle touch.
"Yes, we are very good friends," replied Zha'nelle. "It seems she has been rather hard on you – there are many small injuries." She rose to get some oil – Zha'nelle would need it, if she was to repair the accumulated damage from his training. "I am afraid you will take some time to treat."
She knelt alongside Jake and started applying the pleasantly fragrant oil to his back. His muscles would have to be loosened before she even attempted to align his bones. As she worked on massaging out the knots, he groaned softly.
"That feels good," he said. It crossed his mind what any of the grunts back at Hell's Gate would say if they found out he was getting a massage from a near-naked ten foot tall blue female bodybuilder.
Zha'nelle chuckled. "You may change your mind in a little while."
Her advice wasn't wrong. Zha'nelle was finding every pain pressure point in his body, and driving her entire body weight into each and every one, or so it seemed. It was all he could do not to scream in agony, having to satisfy himself with little grunts and groans. There was no way he was going to admit he was in excruciating pain. It was only by keeping his eyes firmly shut that he could even begin to control it.
"The pressure isn't too much?" she asked. "I can ease off a little, if you choose."
"No," he managed to grate out. "It is fine."
"Good," she said.
She flipped him from one side to the other, working on every inch of his body, with absolutely no sign of embarrassment. Jake started to feel more like a ten foot long piece of tenderised steak than a living being. He opened his eyes once, and gained a very close view of her generous breasts – at least for a Na'vi - and promptly shut his eyes again. The unaccustomed sight was a little too overwhelming to dwell on.
"I will align your bones now," she told him. He breathed out in relief – this torture was going to end soon.
Zha'nelle twisted his body in many different directions, applying sudden pressure to his skeleton and getting it to make alarming crunching noises with the greatest of ease. When she twisted his head savagely one way, then the other, producing the largest cracks of all, he furiously wriggled his toes to make sure that she had not broken his neck.
"We have finished," she announced, and stood up.
He opened his eyes, and took the proffered right hand to help him to his feet. It was then that he realised Zha'nelle had the five-fingered hands of an Avatar, a human-Na'vi hybrid. He stared unbelievingly at her hand, and then at her face.
"Sa'nu! Sa'nu!" yelled a girlish voice. "I hit the target eight times out of eight!"
A young female child tore into the healer's alcove and flung herself at Zha'nelle, who promptly disengaged her hand from Jake's and swept her into an embrace.
"You did, did you?" asked Zha'nelle happily, gazing into her daughter's eyes. "Are you fibbing again?"
"No, I really did it," proclaimed the little girl proudly. "Stxeli'tstal only hit the target five times."
Jake couldn't believe his eyes and ears. This woman had to be an Avatar, but this young girl called her mother. There was even a strong resemblance between the two, apart from Zha'nelle's broken nose. They had to be mother and child. What the hell was going on here?
"Zhake'soolly, this is my daughter Sylwanin," said Zha'nelle proudly. "Sylwanin, Zhake'soolly is the uniltìranyu who is learning to be Omaticaya."
"Everyone knows that, sa'nu," said Sylwanin. She looked him over and said, "Look, sa'nu, he has hands like yours."
"Yes, he does," replied Zha'nelle. "Now, aren't you still supposed to be at archery practice?"
"Srane, sa'nu," said Sylwanin. At least she had stopped lisping, thought Zha'nelle. She had only been doing it to irritate her mother, and promptly stopped when one of the other children said she sounded silly. Her daughter slipped out of her embrace and ran out of the alcove, to return to the temporarily abandoned archery practice.
"How..." began Jake.
"Ask Grace Augustine," interrupted Zha'nelle. "She will explain. Now, how do you feel?"
Much to his surprise, Jake replied, "I feel good." All the little aches and pains that he had only been partially aware of had vanished. "I almost feel as though I am floating."
"Good," replied Zha'nelle. "You know where the hot pool is?" When Jake nodded, she added, "Good. Go there now and soak for at least an hour. You will be a little sore tomorrow, but with movement that feeling will soon go away. Come back in four days and I will correct any remaining problems." She grinned and said, "It will not hurt as much next time."
"Thank Christ for that," he murmured under his breath.
Ney'tiri found Jake soaking in the hot spring by the lake. "Why are you lazing there?" she snapped. "You should have returned for more lessons."
"The healer told me to do this," he responded reasonably. When Ney'tiri scowled at him, he said, "There is no reason why we can't do language lessons here, is there?"
"No,' admitted Ney'tiri. She looked longingly at the water, and decided to compromise. She sat on the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the hot water, and then proceeded to grill Jake on his Na'vi. Curiously enough, he did much better answering her questions than usual, due to Jake being more relaxed than usual, probably as he was not being hit by Ney'tiri for the crime of forgetfulness every three minutes.
After the lesson, she commented, "Kalinkey is a good healer, is she not?"
Jake answered, "I saw Zha'nelle, not Kalinkey. Zha'nelle is also a very good healer." At Ney'tiri's sudden anxious look, he added, "Do not worry. I will not betray one of your friends to her enemies. She told me to talk to Grace."
The look of relief on Ney'tiri's face was palpable. "Irayo, Zhake," she said quietly.
It was the first time she had ever been polite to Jake.
Jake made no mention of the number of fingers on Zha'nelle's hands in his video diary that night. Instead, as soon as he finished recording, he turned to Grace and mentioned he had met a healer named Zha'nelle.
The story she related to him was incredible.
Needless to say, he didn't get much rack time.