"Are you still feeding them the diet of carrots, oat flakes, and finely-chopped hay I prescribed?"
"Yup."
"And the honey-and-salt mix with the water?"
"Yup."
Galen suppressed a sigh and snatched up another piglet from the snuffling, grunting crowd milling around his legs. He dearly wished the farmer would be a bit more forthcoming with information — but the Gorillas in these parts were more of the strong and silent type, and he had to pry out every little thing to get an anamnesis, or, as in this case, a progress report.
"Well, I'm pleased to see that they're gaining weight," he said, and lowered the piglet to its littermates again. "Do any of them still have diarrh— watery excrement?"
"Nope." The farmer, who had been watching the spectacle slouched against the enclosure of the sty, opened the door to let Galen out. "They're all fine now," he added, and Galen raised his brow. That had been an untypical burst of loquacity.
"I'm glad to hear that," he said. "Unless the symptoms return, I think this will be my last visit to your farm. The herd seems to be thriving, so there's no need for my services here anymore."
The Gorilla's big, hard fingers enclosed Galen's hand in a firm grip. "You done a great job, Doctor. If you want a ham for Cesar's Day, I'll make a special deal for you."
Galen smiled and returned the grip. "I won't say no to that, Durog. Cooked ham is a fine thing to have on a cold and rainy winter evening."
"I wouldn't know," Durog muttered, and Galen laughed and climbed on his wagon without further comment.
It was curious, he mused as he directed the horses back onto the dirt track, that it was the Gorillas, all vegetarians by nature, who raised and slaughtered the livestock that only Chimpanzees ate. Orangutans, of course, despised meat both for biological and philosophical reasons; it was really his own species that was the outlier here.
Well, and humans. Humans ate meat, too, though in their case, it was more of the opossum and rat variety. Alan and Peet had never eaten either, as far as he could remember; they had stuck to fish and the occasional — illegally hunted — rabbit. It was a small miracle that he'd never had to pay a fine for their poaching...
The thread of his absent-minded musings unraveled and dissolved in the afternoon warmth; summer wasn't as stiflingly humid up here as it was in the south, and the sun was already low on the horizon. Galen let himself relax into a light nap, soothed by the sun on his face, the sweet scent of riping grass, the chirping of birds in the underbrush, and the gentle sway of the wagon. The horses knew their way back to Chubla by now, no matter how far out in the district he was, and he had only one more appointment to make before he could call it a day, and that appointment was, conveniently, back in Chubla.
He had settled into a routine of making his rounds around the farms every other day, and to receive patients in his practice in Chubla on the days in between. Emergencies were of course another matter, but the farmers usually didn't bother sending for him in these cases, because anything that was bad enough to be an emergency would've resolved itself one way or the other by the time he arrived. Chubla and the surrounding villages was another matter, but even there Galen had found his work load surprisingly light; the village humans tended to seek help from their own healers first before they turned to an ape.
The only people banging at his door in the middle of the night — and refusing to frequent his consultation hours in his town practice, preferring him to make home visits instead — were the upper-class residents of Chubla, and the animals in question were almost always humans (and, occasionally, cats. Galen much preferred the human patients).
Zaylissa, wife of Councillor Zutar, was one of those clients. She, or rather her pet human Incan, was Galen's final appointment of today.
He refused to dwell on the fact that if that woman hadn't been too conceited to sit with the rest of the raffle in his waiting room during his usual doctor's hours, he'd already be on his way home. Private patients paid well, and although his regular income wasn't bad (and came directly from the town's treasury, so it really was regular), he appreciated the extra security these payments brought him. Galen had already accumulated a nice deposit in the bank, and reading his monthly account statements filled him with a warm glow of satisfaction.
If anything happened, he could grab Zana and the wagon, his medicine bag and doctor's seal, and this time, also a hefty bag of sembles, and run. The knowledge let him sleep better at night.
But there was no need for contingency plans right now. He could send another order for more scrolls to Dolan — both for veterinary journals and for veterinary teaching scrolls — and still have enough money left to buy something nice for Zana.
She hadn't touched the typewriter yet that he had gifted to her. The thought made him frown. She had shown a great deal of interest in the machine back in Sapan; she had talked about it for days.
But maybe her interests had changed in the meantime. Maybe he should buy her a telescope, like the one Zatis was lugging around when he went into the woods to watch birds. She had been fascinated by the contraption, but he couldn't remember her going out with Zatis anymore. She spent most of her time in her room nowadays, reading. But it was awkward to always tag along just to be allowed to have a look through Zatis' telescope; maybe she really ought to have her own. These far-viewers were expensive, but for Zana—
The wagon jumped and jerked sideways, and Galen's eyes shot open as he grabbed the armrest to anchor himself. They had reached the main road back to Chubla, a proper, paved road instead of a dirt track, and the horses, sensing that they were close to home, fell into a trot.
The clattering of hooves on cobblestones prevented any further daydreaming; soon the first houses came into view, and then the sun vanished behind the rooftops as Galen made his way through the narrow alleyways to Zaylissa's town house.
It was one of those mansions that intimidated by their simplicity, which breathed this special kind of understated elegance that said 'old money', and Galen took great care to wipe his shoes on the doormat before he rang the bell. There was nothing he could do about the smell, but if Zaylissa so much as dropped a hint, he'd politely remind her of his regular hours in town on the days when he wasn' t delivering calves or treating pig diarrhea—
Zaylissa herself opened the door. "Oh, Doctor Kova, I'm so glad you're finally here!"
Galen swallowed a defensive account of where he'd been all day to justify his late arrival, and forced a polite smile on his face. "Well, I'm glad, too. How is my patient?"
Zaylissa clasped her hands over her heart. "Oh, she's not better at all! Not at all, Doctor, I don't know what that medicine of yours was supposed to do, but it didn't do it! My poor girl is lying in bed all day, and she doesn't want to eat!"
"Well, bed rest is exactly what I prescribed," Galen said, pointedly ignoring the complaint about his apparently useless, in Zaylissa's expert opinion, medicine of raspberry leaf tea and a special tincture he had bought from Laisa, the human healer who had taken care of Alan's recovery. "Has there been any more bleeding?"
"I... I wouldn't know." Zaylissa looked away. "I didn't look. I mean, who'd want to look there?"
Galen suppressed a sigh. "Well, I will, for one. Let's go to Incan's room, shall we?"
The girl greeted him with a weary smile. She was very pale, Galen noticed, with a waxy sheen on her skin; when he ran his hands down her sides, he noticed that she had lost weight again. There was nothing but skin between his fingers and her ribcage. Her pregnant belly seemed huge by contrast. Not for the first time, Galen wished that Zaylissa would agree to have Laisa look after Incan. She was an accomplished midwife, but Zaylissa insisted that she only trusted the expertise of a real, simian doctor.
At least the bleeding had stopped; the sheets and Incan's gown were clean, and the girl confirmed that she hadn't lost any more blood since she had started taking the tea.
"Do you allow anything into your belly besides my tea?" Galen asked. "A bit of fruit, or nut bread, or some fish...?"
The girl grimaced and shook her head. "Please stop, vetes, I'm getting sick!"
"Ah." He'd consult with Laisa about that — she probably knew a dozen herbs for an upset stomach. "Well, I'll send you another tea that will take care of your nausea, and you'll promise me to have a bit of broth later, yes? — If you drink that new tea first, you won't get sick at the mere thought of eating something," he added when Incan looked dubious.
"She must continue drinking the other tea, too," Galen told Zaylissa as they walked to the front door. "It prevents premature contractions. She needs to carry that cub for at least another month if it is to survive. And offer her a wide variety of foods, things that aren't too fatty or sweet, so that she can keep them down."
"I paid that breeder so much money," Zaylissa wailed. "I drove her all the way down to Etissa to get the best sire for her. She can't lose that cub!"
She had mentioned Ramor at least once every single time Galen had come for a visit, and by now he managed not to flinch at the mention of the name anymore. His internal wince hadn't subsided one bit, though, nor could he stop his brain from automatically calculating that no, Alan couldn't have been that sire; the timing was off by a month or two.
But Etissa was more on his mind now than he cared, thanks to Zaylissa, and Galen was looking forward to the day Incan would give birth, and he'd be done with these visits and that Orangutan's complaints about Ramor's prices. Every time, all the way from her mansion to his own house, he had to wrestle his own guilt and shame back into the far corners of his mind — as well as the painful knowledge that the cubs Ramor had been able to create from Alan's humiliation woul be born by the end of summer, and were probably already on preorder by people like that vapid woman.
At least Alan had seemed to be recovering from that experience by the time he and Peet had left to go looking for another of these abandoned human cities. Galen carefully kept his thoughts focused on the question of where the two humans might be by now as he steered his wagon into his backyard and began to unhitch the horses. It was better than brooding over his own failure in Etissa, but close enough to the subject to not alarm his brain that he was avoiding to contemplate Alan's ordeal.
No matter how exhausting Peet had been at times, Galen mused as he began to rub down Tala, he had been a pretty good orderly. Not very patient, or careful with delicate tools — you couldn't trust him with cleaning the syringes — but he'd had a connection with Apache, which meant that Galen hadn't had to evade the horse's flying hooves every other evening. And Peet's jokes had been amusing. He'd have known how to lighten up the leaden atmosphere in his home...
The house was silent as always, save for Prila clattering with pots and plates in the kitchen. She had been Ropal's housekeeper, and after his predecessor's violent death, Galen had somehow inherited her together with the late doctor's town house and practice.
He was glad for it; Zana hadn't shown much interest in cooking and housekeeping, not that Galen expected her to, of course, but it was nice to come home to a hearty meal after a long, exhausting day in the countryside, and to have someone to chat with for a bit before Prila went home. It filled the house with a semblance of life for the duration of his dinner, and then he went to the Club to flee the silence that descended after she had left...
He poked his head into the kitchen. "This smells delicious, Prila."
The old housekeeper waved a spatula in the general direction of the table. These days, Galen ate in the kitchen; it was less awkward than sitting alone at the dining table while Zana was eating — or not eating — in her own room upstairs. "Sit down, Doctor, it's as good as ready."
"I'll clean up first." He hesitated, then turned back. "Where's my wife?"
Prila threw him a glance over her shoulder. "In her room, as usual."
"As usual," Galen murmured. "Has she come down at all today?"
"Not that I noticed, no."
"Uh-huh..." Galen hovered in the door, worrying the inside of his lip with his teeth. This had been going on ever since Peet and Alan had left, and leaving Zana be hadn't helped at all. On the contrary.
"You know what," he said suddenly. "Lay the table in the dining room. Mila and I will have dinner there tonight."
He turned abruptly to avoid Prila's pitying look, but couldn't outrun her voice. "Good luck, Doctor! I'll put the bowls on the food warmer!"
Although he did knock at Zana's door, Galen didn't wait for a reply before he opened it. "I'm back, Zana."
She was lying on her bed, the covers messily thrown back, and was reading one of her scrolls. Some steamy romance-adventure, unless she had changed genres recently. More scrolls in various stages of opening were scattered on and around the bed; one had been torn up and tossed aside, with one of the pieces landing in a half-empty bowl of candied fruit.
"Hello, dear," Zana murmured without looking up from her scroll.
She was wearing the same robe she had worn yesterday, Galen noticed, and the day before yesterday. The robe was crumpled, her fur was dull, and the air in the room was warm and stuffy, and he felt a sudden surge of anger at her.
"Dinner is ready," he said. "Will you join me downstairs?"
"I'm not really hungry." Her eyes were still on the scroll.
Galen gripped the door knob harder. "Will you at least keep me company, then?"
Now she did look up, clearly annoyed. "I don't think I'd be good company, Kova." As always, she hesitated almost imperceptibly before using his assumed name. "I don't have to add much to a conversation nowadays."
Galen didn't relent. Not today. "We don't have to make conversation if you don't want to. But Zana..." He ignored her flinch and her glare at him for using her real name, even in private, "... it's been a long, hard day, and I've missed you." He smiled wistfully. "I missed you sitting beside me on the coach box, but I'll take you sitting across from me at the table in a pinch."
Her glare softened at that. She looked around her bed as if she was only now becoming aware of the mess, and heaved a deep sigh. "Alright then. Give me a moment to freshen up, will you?"
He took the opportunity to change into a fresh robe and give his fur a quick brush himself; all the while, he was half-expecting her to lock her door, flop back onto her mattress and pull the covers over her head. But to his delight, she came into the hallway just moments after him, fur brushed, and in a fresh robe. She had even tucked a flower from the climber outside her window behind her ear.
"You look fabulous," he said, and he meant it.
She smiled skeptically at that, but allowed him to take her arm and gallantly steer her down the stairs and into the dining room.
Prila had set the table in the meantime, and had put the bowls on food warmers, as promised. The small candles underneath the platforms inspired Galen to fetch two thick, short candles from a cabinet and place them on the table between his and Zana's seats. He lit them while Zana sat down. She was shaking her head.
"You don't have to go overboard, Kova," she said. She never used his real name anymore. Sometimes he wished she'd slip up about it.
"I know," he smiled as he sat down, "but I want to."
For the first few pahrsets, he was too occupied with his food to worry about conversation. Zana was only picking at her food, he noticed, but refrained from commenting on it. She really wasn't hungry, he guessed, if the state of her candy bowl was any indication.
A pity. Prila had made a really delicious roast, topped with mushrooms and green beans, and a creamy, spicy sauce that begged for a second helping. By now his ravenous hunger had abated enough to search for a harmless conversation topic.
Asking about Zana's day was probably not a good idea — she might feel put on the spot, which was the last thing Galen intended. Talking unprompted about his own day also felt awkward, and it didn't look as if she was about to ask. He ignored the little stab in his gut at the thought that she wasn't interested in his work at all.
Humans. Humans were hopefully still a topic Zana was interested in.
"I'll be glad when Zaylissa' human finally gives birth," he said. "That woman is really getting on my nerves. Every time I visit, she tells me none of my measures are working. Well, if they didn't work, Incan would've lost her cu— her baby by now."
Zana speared a bean with her fork. "Isn't that the Orangutan who drove down to Etissa to have the poor girl mate with one of Ramor's studs?"
She hadn't looked up, and her voice had been casual, but Galen still felt profoundly uncomfortable all of a sudden. He should've guessed that Zana would hone in on the less harmless aspects of this case. "Yes," he muttered.
Zana's fork was still stabbing at the plate, a ticking sound that drove him to distraction. "Alan's babies must be due soon, don't you think?" she asked.
"In about three months," Galen agreed. By now, he was cursing himself for his choice of subject — better to have bored her with farmer Durog's piglets and the promise of a big ham at a discount. "Zaylissa went a month or two before we arrived in that cursed town."
"Then Incan's baby won't be one of Alan's," Zana mused. "I wonder what will become of them. I... I think of them a lot, Kova. Do you think Alan thinks about his children?"
"I have no idea," Galen lied. Judging from Alan's reaction to the whole disaster, he suspected that the human had pushed the whole incident firmly out of his mind. He and Peet were on a quest to find a way home, which meant Alan had been content to leave the results of his abuse behind — or ahead of him, if they really found a way to travel back into the past.
"I can't imagine he'd be happy to know that his babies will be sold to apes all over the Domain," Zana insisted. For the first time since she had sat down, she was looking at him, her expression agitated. "He'd want them to grow up in freedom and dignity!"
Galen raised his brows at that. "If he wanted that, don't you think he'd have stayed here and... done something about it?"
Zana put her fork down. "Done what, exactly? He's a human, he can't buy them himself — he has neither the money, nor the legal status for that." She paused, and Galen braced himself for what was inevitably to come next. "But we can, Kova. We can bring them to safety."
Galen vigorously shook his head. "Do you have any idea what outrageous prices Ramor is going to demand for them? If his breeding scheme has worked out the way he intended, they'll all have Alan's coloring, and that is rare enough that Ramor can ask any price, or auction them off to the highest bidder... I doubt we could even afford one of them, let alone the whole litter."
Zana's lips thinned. "We have a moral duty to them, and to Alan! Or have you forgotten how this whole situation had come to pass?"
"No, I haven't," Galen sighed. "And by Cesar, if I had the money, I'd buy all of them out immediately. But I don't have the money, Zana, no matter how much I agree with your moral argument!" He carefully put his own fork on the plate and leaned back in his seat, drawing a deep, calming breath through his nose. He didn't want this to escalate into an argument. Not when Zana had joined him for dinner for the first time in weeks.
"I'm serious, Zana," he said. "I fully agree with you here, it's just a matter of feasability. But I will contact Ramor and claim one of Alan's cubs from him, at a discount, because of the way he tricked me into giving Alan into his hands. I hope you agree that saving one of them is better than saving none of them."
The stubborn set of her jaw indicated that she didn't agree with him there at all, but she said nothing. Galen rose to fill two glasses of lemonade and to his relief, she accepted her glass. He sat down again, fiercely determined not to let the evening end on this sour note.
"How is your work at the shelter going?" he asked. Maybe focusing on the things she could do to help the humans would lift Zana's mood a bit. After Zorya, the founder and head of Chubla's human shelter, had offered her a position as a volunteer aide, Zana had been full of plans for teaching and training them.
"I haven't been there for a while," she said to his utter surprise. "And I don't think I will return anytime soon." She took a deep draw from her glass.
Galen made no attempt to hide his consternation. "What happened?"
Zana shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just... came to view this whole shelter idea differently."
She seemed to be content to leave it at that, but now his curiosity was piqued. "In what way? You were so excited about the whole idea in Sapan that you were ready to found your own shelter."
Zana rose abruptly and wandered over to the sideboard to refill her glass. "It was different in Sapan. There, a runner's life was forfeit if he didn't win often enough, because you couldn't use them for work in the timber industry, and those were basically the only options to put a human to use — racing, or felling trees. They didn't really have house servants or pet humans in Sapan. I think Felga's tea house was meant to spread awareness that there were more options available than that."
She returned to her seat and carefully set the glass down before she continued. "But here? Humans are everywhere — working in the fields, in the workshops, in the households, some even are nothing more than companion animals." She grimaced at the last word; she had long stopped seeing humans as animals, Galen knew.
He had stopped thinking of them as animals at some point, though he could no longer remember when that had happened.
"There's no need for a shelter here, at least not the kind of permanent shelter that Sapan has." Zana stared at her glass, but made no move to raise it to her lips. "If they trained the humans and then released them back into the... you know." She made a vague gesture. "The fields and the workshops, and so on — I could see its point. That would actually be useful. But they don't teach them anything! It's more like a... a petting zoo for spoiled young ladies! The humans I saw there were bored out of their minds."
"Well..." Galen hadn't given the shelter any thought, apart from listening to Zana's plans — she had stopped gushing about it a while ago, come to think of it — but he couldn't but agree with her assessment. Shelters had seemed to be an urgently needed safety net for the humans living under the harsh conditions of the Iron Mountains prefectures, but Chubla was downright idyllic by comparison. Strangely enough, the whole shelter movement had originated here, though.
"It seems you could do a world of good there, then," he said belatedly. "With your scientific background, even if you can't mention it, you're more than adequately equipped to introduce some, uh, training curricula there — not just for the humans, but also for the young ladies."
Zana snorted. "The young ladies aren't interested in learning anything," she said with a wry smile. "And before you ask me to go to Zorya — I already tried that, but Zorya is more interested in keeping the peace and not ruffling any furs, and... I understand that the shelter depends heavily on donations, and the mothers of those young ladies are the ones who organize the yearly charity, and..." She sighed deeply. "I'm just the newcomer with all those wild and impractical and inconvenient ideas, and it's easier to push me out than to accomodate me. Mothers beware that some of my ideas gain traction — that would completely upset the comfy little hierachy in there!"
"I'm sorry, Zana," Galen said softly.
Zana shook her head. "It's... it doesn't matter," she said. "I had suspected as much when Zorya asked me to join as a mentor there."
But she looked sad, and Galen felt a surge of helpless sympathy. "I'm sure there are lots of other opportunities for you here," he said. "Chubla is a big town, by northern standards; surely you'll find something else of interest."
Zana shrugged. "I'm not sure about that."
"Well, I can see that you're not happy with being a housewife — and I don't expect you to be one," Galen hastened to add, "Prila is very keen on taking care of the house — and not happy with shelter work, either, but most importantly, you're not happy with doing nothing." He cleared his throat, fully aware that he was crossing into dangerous waters now. "You've been holed up in your room ever since Alan and Peet left, but instead of getting better, it seems to me that your mood is getting worse by the day. You need to get out more, Zana."
Zana didn't meet his eye; she stared into her glass as if something fascinating was floating in it. "And go where?" she said finally. "Do what? I'm happy for you, Kova, you really seem to thrive here, and the work suits you. But I..." She trailed off, and the silence grew thick between them.
"You will find something you'll enjoy," Galen said when he couldn't bear it any longer. "I know it, because I know you. But you need to be open to... new ideas, and you won't find them in your room." Or in your romance scrolls, but he was prudent enough not to say it aloud. "I know it's not easy, but I think you should return to the shelter. If nothing else, you'll meet new people there, and one of them might just give you that new idea. — You have to start somewhere," he added when Zana continued to stare silently into her glass.
After a long stretch of silence, she finally shrugged. "You're probably right. But Galen—" and now she looked up, and Galen's heart ached at the tears he saw blinking in the corners of her eyes, "What if they don't?"
Zana retired to her room shortly after, declining Galen's offer to join him for an evening stroll through Chubla, now that the air was cooling down again after the day's heat. Galen refilled his glass and sat down in his favorite wingback chair, staring at the golden stripes of sunlight that slowly wandered across the wall and dimmed out near the ceiling as the sun finally sunk below the horizon. Prila had already taken the rest of the dinner and the dinnerware back into the kitchen; the faint clatter of plates punctuated the silence that had descended once more on the house.
He was tired; bone-achingly tired, in fact, but he couldn't bear the thought of going upstairs and lying down just yet. It would make his day consist of nothing but work, buttressed between breakfast and dinner. Ambling down the streets of Chubla with Zana would've been nice; there was a little café between their house and Zaylissa's mansion that he had wanted to show her.
Galen sighed and closed his eyes. He shouldn't have pushed his luck after he had managed to lure her down for dinner. Take it slowly, that was the ticket.
He yanked his eyes open when he caught himself nodding off. The house was completely silent now; Prila had left an indeterminate time ago. The lemonade was warming in his hand; he put the glass on the side table.
He'd go to the Club. He needed a bit of easy company before he'd call it a day.
When he opened the front door, something fluttered to his feet — a scrap of paper that had been wedged between door leaf and frame. Curious, Galen bent down to pick it up. It was a pamphlet of some sort.
~~~***~~~HERON AND SOLON ARE NOW FINALLY COMING TO YOUR TOWN, TOO~~~***~~~
Galen's brows rose as he read the rest of the announcement. Apparently, Doctor Heron and his companion, an Orangutan monk whose training with a secret order in the depths of the Forbidden Zones had turned his fur 'as white as moonlight', were about to descend on Chubla together with a veritable army of jugglers, jokesters, acrobats, musicians, magicians, soothsayers, and 'the smallest circus in the known world!'
He took the paper inside without reading the rest of it, and deposited it in Prila's kindling basket.
By the time he reached Chubla's Gentlemen's Club, of which he was the newest member, Galen had already forgotten about the pamphlet; but if he hadn't, the gentle neck and back massage he enjoyed in the club's refreshment area would've done the trick, too. It was one of those things you never knew you needed until you felt your tense and tired muscles give in under the expert hands of the massagists. One of the club members had also recommended the other kind of massage to him, but Galen suspected that Zana would've disapproved of it, and had stuck to the non-controversial kind.
The girl (a Chimpanzee — the Gentlemen's Club allowed no human servants on its premises) finished the job with a thorough brushing of his fur, and sent him off to the recreation area with a jaunty clap on his butt, which Galen gentlemanly ignored. He accepted his pipe and a selection of tobaccos — another habit he'd never have thought he'd take up, but it was kind of expected of him here — and took a stroll through the rooms in search of a friendly keppa table that still had a spot open for another player.
"Doctor Kova!" Clavis, the merchant who had sold him the typewriter, and who Galen planned to ask about a telescope, waved at him through the clouds of blue smoke. "Had enough of fondling the cows for today?"
The other gentleman at his table joined in his hearty laughter, though a bit more restrained: Botras, if Galen remembered the name correctly. They hadn't interacted much yet, because Botras was a lawyer, which Galen hoped to never need, and he also didn't own any humans or other animals.
They had a keppa board between them, and now Clavis was halfway rising from his chair and making an inviting gesture to Galen, so he had no choice but to go over to them and sit down. "It was piglets today, actually," he said.
"Even worse," Clavis joked, and handed him his tokens.
They didn't really pay much attention to the game; the objective was to stretch one's legs, smoke one's pipe, and gossip with the other good fellas. Galen could've won every game easily, but that would've killed the mood, and so he had to pay more attention to the game than his companions in order to lose, or at least to only barely win. Thus he didn't immediately catch Clavis' jump to the next conversation topic.
"Looks like you won't stay in the business for much longer now, what with the new doc's wonder cure."
"Eh, what?" Galen absentmindedly reached for his glass of light cider while he contemplated the keppa board. If he moved his token one way, he'd have Clavis encircled, which would serve the windbag right, but then Clavis might up the price for the telescope in retaliation; if he moved his token the other way, he'd have blocked Botras, who didn't seem to put that much importance on the game anyway, but with these lawyer types, you never knew — and since Galen had studied the law himself for a time, he knew about lawyer grudges...
"The new wonder doctor," Clavis said helpfully. "The one who travels with that albino monk. He's coming to Chubla to cure all our ailments. I could use another salesman, if you need to change profession." He chuckled at his own joke.
Now Galen remembered the pamphlet he had found on his doorstep. "Those con artists? I'm shaking in my boots!" He moved his token to encircle Clavis' cluster.
Clavis frowned at the new situation on the board, but was spared from immediately coming up with a counter move, because it was Botras' turn. Instead, he kept needling Galen. "As you should, Kova. Just think — one sip from the bottle, and you won't need a doctor anymore!"
"I can think of a number of poisons that would do the same trick," Botras commented, and moved his own token, threatening Galen's keystone token that was strangling Clavis' cluster.
"Being thrown into jail would be bad for their business, though," Galen said, wondering if Botras was helping out Clavis because he was planning a purchase from him in the near future. "I rather think they're selling tinted water with a bit of mint flavor, and their victims' gullibility will do the rest."
"Pass," Clavis muttered; none of his tokens could be moved at the moment, and Galen dutifully removed one of them, and moved his own token out of Botras' attack radius.
"Well, I think that they wouldn't be so successful if their medicine was just tinted water," Clavis continued, sounding a bit miffed now; he was a sore loser, even if they didn't play for money here. "He has a pretty big tent, from what Algys told me."
So he had sent his clerk out to investigate; Galen began to suspect that maybe Clavis was planning to make a deal with those traveling apes... selling their wonder medicine in Chubla after they had moved on, for a certain percentage of the proceeds, of course.
"If their medicine is so great, why haven't they set up a practice in Cesarea, built up a medical empire from there?" he scoffed. "They shouldn't have to swallow the dust of these remote roads up here."
"Maybe they are on a holy mission to bring relief to the suffering people of the north," Botras speculated. He seemed to be amused by their little spat. "Not all doctors are greedy semble- pinchers."
"Well," Galen shrugged, ignoring the implied dig at him, "my vocation is to take care of suffering apekind's livestock — I'll leave it to Doc Egvon to educate his patients about the veracity of this wonder doctor's claims."
"A thankless task," Botras commented.
"I don't envy him," Galen agreed. "I bet we'll see him drowning his sorrows here before long."
"Indeed," Botras said, and moved his token. "It appears to me that your cluster is encircled, Doctor."
Galen blinked; Clavis, whose cluster was still encircled by Galen's cordon, chuckled. "Never play against a lawyer, Kova. They're too sneaky for the likes of us."
"I'm not sure I agree," Galen said, and rose. "But my day starts early tomorrow, so I'll have to schedule my revenge for another evening." He bowed to both apes. "Enjoy your stay, gentlemen." Clavis waved good-naturedly after him when he left; Botras' surprise win seemed to have soothed his mood somewhat.
Maybe, Galen mused as he walked the silent streets of Chubla, Clavis wouldn't rob him blind for that telescope after all. He tilted his head back and looked at the stars blinking far above. Alan had watched the moon and the stars with Ennis through Zatis' telescope. But Zana had always been more interested in the things closer to earth — the trees on the horizon, and the little beasts that lived in them.
The thought of Alan reminded him of the promise he had given to Zana over dinner. Galen heaved a sigh and continued his way home. He'd have to contact Ramor somehow — someone he had hoped to never see again, or think of, for the rest of his life. But some things followed you forever, no matter how far you ran.