A/N—Please read and review. Thank you. I hope you enjoy. Another chapter that I've had laying around for a while.
Corus, Tortall
Summer 458 H.E.
Neal wandered through Corus without any specific destination. Dom and Buri had left somewhere that morning without telling him or inviting him along. The basement had been locked and Neal hadn't been able to find either Gary, so he'd left the inn.
Eventually he found himself standing outside one of Corus' two sick houses. It was a small, narrow, two-story building. Neal went in through the public entrance, noticing a sign that read "No Gennature" in both languages. The waiting room was crowded, mostly with mothers holding one or more children. Neal walked through the lobby and down a hall, glancing at the signs for different wards.
"We won't treat him." A sharp voice said from a room at the end of the hall, its door slightly ajar.
"Of course we will." Another man said.
"No, Almen, I mean it." The first man ordered. There was a low groan.
"Please!" A woman sobbed.
"Of course, m'am. Don't worry about a thing." The second man answered.
"We don't take their kind here. For the last time, Almen." The first said. Neal was beginning to get a clear picture of the situation. "It'll mean your job." For a while the only sounds were the man's groans and the woman's sobs.
"Then you just lost your best healer. Healing has no race." Neal smiled. How often had he heard his father say those exact words?
"You'll regret this, Almen." The first man said, slamming the door open and stepping past Neal without noticing him. Neal walked into the room. The healer, Almen, had his back to him. A man with a deep cut across his chest lay on the table. A slight woman clung to his hand.
"I thought you were leaving, Bryce." Almen said.
"You look like you could use some help." Neal replied.
Surprised, Almen looked over his shoulder. He was long past middle age but not yet old, with thin, cinnamon and sugar hair, and calm, gray eyes. "Alright, who are you?"
"Neal Dole." Neal answered.
"Are you a healer here?" Almen asked while waving Neal in. "If so, you don't want to help me."
"I'm a healer." Neal answered. "That's all that matters." With a smile and a small nod, Almen started to work. The wound wasn't as bad as it had first looked and it wasn't much work for the two healers. They patched the man up, assured him he wouldn't even have a scar, then sent him on his way.
"Come on, kid. I'll show you where you can wash your hands." Almen led Neal to a shed in the courtyard with a water pump inside. "That was good healing in there. It's been awhile since I've seen someone work like that."
Neal pumped water for them both. "Like what?"
"With the attitude that healing is what matters and not politics. Healing for the patient's good."
Unsure exactly what Almen was talking about, Neal shrugged. "It's the only way I know how."
Almen looked at Neal carefully. "Are you busy today, kid?"
Neal shook his head. "I'm just wandering around."
"Well, then, would you let me take you to lunch? I'm curious to know where you're from."
"I'd enjoy lunch." Neal replied.
Almen smiled. "I know the perfect place to go. It has the best food in the city."
Almen took long, fast strides across the city. The streets weren't crowded compared to Prot Legann but the people Neal did see looked poorer. Wealthy or even well off commoners were rare, replaced by ragged beggars.
"What are you going to do now?" Neal asked.
"Oh, I'm not worried." Almen answered. "I'll get my job back in a week or two."
As they left the center of town there were fewer and fewer people around. They walked down a street with tall thin houses pressed together on either side. Almen led Neal to one of these, its door painted light blue.
"Ahrei," Almen called as he opened the door, "I'm home and I brought someone for lunch." The door opened into a long hall with a stairway on the left, two doors to the right and one at the end of the hall. The second door along the hall opened and a girl about Neal's age came out. She was tall and thin with light brown skin and long, straight, dark brown hair. She wore a green dress, nicely made but not frilly, with a cream apron tied around her waist. She glanced at Neal with cold, gray eyes.
"My dear, this is Neal Dole. He's a healer. Neal, my daughter, Ahrei."
"It's a pleasure to meet you." Neal said with a slight bow.
Ahrei dipped into an even slighter curtsey. "You too." She answered tersely. "I suppose you'll be wanting lunch." She said, directing this statement at her father.
"Whatever you can whip up, dear." Almen replied. Ahrei went back into the room she'd come from. Almen took Neal's coat, hanging it with his own by the door, and then led him to the room at the end of the hall. This room was as wide as the house. It had a hearth, couch, lounge chairs and a short table at one end, and a dining table with four wooden chairs at the other end. Following Almen's lead, Neal sat down at the table.
"If you don't mind me asking, kid, where are you from?"
"Port Legann." Neal answered automatically. "My father owns a small clinic there. He was a healer before the war."
"Ahh, did he study with Duke Baird?" Neal nodded. "And taught you to heal?"
"Yes."
"That would explain your ethics, kid." Almen said. "Under the duke healers took an oath, swearing to heal for the patient, to disregard race and origin and birth. He was a very fair man, the duke, and an amazing healer as well."
"Did you learn to heal at the University?" Neal asked, intrigued by this link to his father's past.
"No, but I worked here and had to take that oath. I was born in Sarain and stayed there long enough for Ahrei to turn three. We're K'mir and we fled here with the queen."
Ahrei brought out a pitcher and Almen poured three glasses full of a light brown liquid. Neal sipped it experimentally. It was fruit cider, easily the best he'd ever tasted.
"This is delicious." Neal said.
"Ahrei makes it." Almen replied. "She won't even tell me what she puts in it." Ahrei also brought out bowls, plates, and utensils. They had a vegetable soup with spices Neal couldn't identify, a hard, dark brown bread and sugared fruit—all the best food Neal had ever eaten. Ahrei served them then sat down across from Neal to eat.
"Matthew came by this morning." Ahrei said as she gathered up their dishes.
"Did he say anything?" Almen asked.
"Just that he wanted to talk to you." Ahrei called from the kitchen.
"How's the arm?"
"I checked it." Ahrei said. "We'll have to take the stitches out in a few days."
"Well, I guess I'll go see if he's home. I've got nothing else that needs to get done today. Ahrei, why don't you take Neal out and show him the city?"
"Of course, father." Ahrei replied.
Almen got his coat then turned to Neal. "It was a nice surprise, meeting you today, Neal. I hope to see you around."
"You too." Neal said. Almen nodded then left.
"Is there any particular place you want to see?" Ahrei asked. "Corus really isn't a tourist stop anymore."
"I'm not exactly a tourist." Neal replied.
"Then get your coat." Ahrei ordered. She took a thin, light gray cloak off the hooks by the door and handed Neal his.
As they walked through the city, Ahrei pointed out the different districts but other then that she didn't talk much. Neal saw, without surprise, that the city was mainly split in two. Wealthy Gennature lived on the far outskirts of the city and gradually bled into the poorest Gennature then poor Tortallans through wealthy Tortallans. It was only in the worst slums of the city that the Gennature and the Tortallans mixed regularly. They walked all through the city, coming to the no-man's-land between the city and palace last. Ahrei stopped for the first time, standing on the edge of the expanse of rubble and staring across at the palace. The sun was setting, stretching the shadows of the ruins, and a slight breeze came up, picking at their coats and whipping Ahrei's hair across her face. Neal felt it was a good moment to say something.
"How long have you lived in Corus?" He asked.
"Since the end of the war." Ahrei answered. She sat down on a small block on the side of the road. "I was born in Sarain and my father practiced healing in the north until the war started. What about you?"
"My father practiced healing here but I was born a little further north. After the war we moved to Port Legann."
"It looks so grand and forbidden from down here." Ahrei said after a moment of silence. Neal followed her gaze to the palace gates.
"It was—looked—grand before the war, too." Neal sat down on another block. Ahrei glanced sideways at him.
"I wanted to take a servant's job there last year, helping out all the ladies who come to court and things like that, but my father wouldn't let me. He says we left Sarain because of rulers like the Gennature and he wouldn't have me working for them. He still holds out for the Tortall we first moved to coming back eventually. He wants me to be a healer."
"You're Gifted?"
"Yes. Gray." Ahrei said softly. "We should get going." She stood up and brushed out her skirt. "Where are you staying?"
"Cythera's Home Inn. It's down the street there but I'll walk you back." Ahrei hesitated then nodded.