Even if she failed, she would provide entertainment for the rich and bored. And, like Jayan, at least her magic would ensure she could not fall too far or too hard.
We have more in common than I thought, he mused wryly. He liked the idea that, if either of them ever fell from grace, the other might be there to offer support. It’s always easier to become friends with someone you have something in common with. I just hope it doesn’t take some socially disastrous fall before she’ll consider the possibility I might be a friend.
The healers’ university looked exactly as Tessia had imagined. Her father had described it as an “old but strange building that has adopted and absorbed surrounding houses as opportunity and funds allowed”. It sounded confusing and intriguing, and it was.
Though a muddle of interconnecting buildings, all had been built in the Kyralian style so there was a unifying look about the exterior. Inside, it was like walking through somebody’s home without ever finding the back door. Narrow corridors led to more narrow corridors. The doors on either side of the corridors were nearly all closed, so there was little natural light in the passages. Instead they were lit with the warm glow of oil lamps. The few rooms Tessia managed to look inside were no larger than the kitchen in her parents’ house, and furnished in a similar way with shelving on the walls, a table in the middle, and a fireplace at one end.
Kendaria was leading her to the dissection room. Tessia could not help wondering where in this place the healers would find a room big enough to hold both an audience the size her new friend had described and a dissection table.
Then they stepped from a doorway into a strange space. It was like the underside of a wooden staircase, except it was a very wide staircase. She could hear footsteps and voices above.
Ahead a narrow break in the “staircases” allowed access beyond, and Kendaria led her forward. They emerged into a large room. Looking around, Tessia realised that the wide stairways were actually tiered seats that sloped up to plain brick walls – some with bricked-up windows. Several young men were already sitting on the steps. They eyed her and Kendaria with interest.
The walls look like the exterior of houses, Tessia thought. She looked up. The beams of a wood and tile roof stretched overhead. This must have been a small street or a garden. They just built those seats and covered it over. Which explained why it was so cold.
In the middle of the room was a generous stone bench. From the grooves carved into it to carry fluids into buckets she guessed it was the dissection table. On another, smaller table nearby several tools had been arranged. She knew what most of them were and wondered if the rest were specifically for dissections.
“We don’t have to stay, if you’re having second thoughts,” Kendaria murmured.
Realising the woman must have noticed her looking at the tools, Tessia smiled. “No, I’m looking forward to it. Where do we sit?”
“First I need to introduce you to Healer Orran. I don’t think there’ll be any problem with my bringing you here, especially as your father is a healer and you’ve been his assistant, and we’ve paid our fee. But it’s good manners to ask, and to introduce you.”
She led Tessia to two men of about the same age as Tessia’s father. The men were talking, as far as Tessia could tell, about the pregnancy of a colleague’s wife. Just idle chatter, but though the pair both glanced at Kendaria and Tessia when they approached, they continued talking as if the two women were not present.
Kendaria waited, her gaze on the face of the taller man. Her expression was one of patience and determination. The two men still did not halt their gossiping – which was what it was, Tessia decided, when it became clear that there was nothing about the pregnancy that should concern the healers professionally. They repeated what they were saying several times, each time phrased in a different way.
Were they, by ignoring Kendaria for the sake of this pointless chatter, being deliberately rude? The longer and sillier the conversation become, the more convinced Tessia became that they were. But the woman remained calm and expectant, her eyes never leaving Healer Orran’s face. At first Tessia was puzzled, then angry at this treatment, then fascinated. Clearly a social game was taking place here, and she couldn’t help wondering why, and what the rules were.
Finally the two men’s talk became so inane it faltered into an awkward silence. The taller man sighed and turned to smile coldly at Kendaria.
“Ah, I see you have decided to join the crowd today, Kendaria of Foden,” he observed. Tessia swallowed the urge to laugh. There hadn’t been a crowd when they had arrived, but now the room echoed with the voices of many more occupants.
“Indeed I have, Healer Orran,” she replied. She nodded at Tessia. “I have brought a new friend from out of town: Apprentice Tessia from Aylen ley. Her father is healer to Lord Dakon, and she has worked as his assistant most of her young life.” She smiled. “That is until recently, when she became Lord Dakon’s apprentice.”
Both healers’ eyebrows rose.
“A magician with a touch of healer’s training,” Healer Orran said. “How interesting. What is your father’s name?”
“Healer Veran,” Tessia replied.
The two men frowned thoughtfully. “I have not heard of him,” the other healer said.
“You wouldn’t have,” Tessia told him. “He did not study here, though he has visited from time to time. His grandfather was a member of the guild. His name was Healer Berin, though he worked here so long ago I imagine you wouldn’t—”
The two men’s mouths had opened in identical circles.
“Ahh,” they both said.
Healer Orran chuckled. “Now the pieces fall into place. Good old Healer Berin. Stirred up the guild then vanished to the country.”
“We owe your grandfather a small debt for questioning our over-reliance on the star code and steering us back towards rational observation,” the other healer said. “Berin’s granddaughter, eh?” His gaze slid over Tessia’s shoulder and his eyes brightened. “Ah! Here is our corpse!”
Tessia turned to see a stretcher being carried in, a pale figure lying upon it. She felt a thrill of excitement. Most of the corpses she had seen had been of old people. This was a young male, the pale skin of his chest marred with a wound.
“Have you seen a dissection before, Apprentice Tessia?” Healer Orran asked.
“No, but I have seen a few corpses, and more of the inside of a body than most people do,” she replied. “This should be very interesting,” she added quietly.
She heard Kendaria chuckle.
“Well then,” Healer Orran said. “You had better find yourselves some seats. Most are taken, and you won’t want to sit up at the back or you might become giddy. You there!” He waved an arm at two young men sitting in the front row. “Find your manners and make space for the ladies.”
There was laughter all around as the two young men grumbled and left their seats, resignedly moving up to the back of the staircase. Kendaria smiled and winked at Tessia as they sat down.
“I think he likes you. Any time you want to see a dissection, let me know.”
Cloth sheets were brought into the room and handed to those sitting in the front row. Kendaria showed Tessia how to drape hers across her shoulders and over her knees.
“Sometimes there’s a bit of splatter,” she whispered.
The corpse was half lifted, half rolled from the stretcher onto the table. Healer Orran moved to the collection of tools, then looked up at the crowd.
“Today we will be examining the heart and lungs...”
As he explained the purpose of the dissection and told the audience what to look for, Tessia sighed happily. Father would have loved this. What will he say when he hears I was here? And he won’t believe that grandfather is now remembered with gratitude! Then she sobered. Will there be anything I can tell him that will be useful to him? I wonder...I had better pay close attention.
From his pallet in the stable loft, Hanara could see the signal light. For three nights now it had appeared, slowly flickering dimmer and brighter in a pattern all slaves were taught to read. Each time it shone from a different location, so that if anyone in the village did notice and looked for the light in the same place the following night, they would not see it. Each time it pulsed the same message.
Report. Report.
Every waking moment since first seeing it – and there had been far too many waking moments and not enough sleeping ones – Hanara had been sick with fear. There was only one person in the village that message could be for: himself. And only one person who would expect Hanara to report to him: Takado.
So far Hanara hadn’t obeyed. For three nights he had curled up on the pallet, unable to sleep until exhaustion claimed him, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the signal or didn’t know what to make of it.
But I have seen it and I do know. When Takado reads my mind he’ll know I disobeyed him.
He was not Takado’s to order about any more, he reminded himself. He was a free man. He served Lord Dakon now.
But Lord Dakon isn’t here. He can’t stop Takado coming to get me. It was possible Takado would conclude that the lack of response to his signal meant that Hanara had, indeed, been freed. Or had left the village. He might give up and leave.
Hanara almost laughed aloud.
What will he do, really? he asked himself.