Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
He swallows hard, but finally nods.
I scrape mashed pherlies onto my fingers and force myself to focus on applying the paste to the deep wound on her chest.
Florentius steps forward as if to take over and halts, his mouth a grim line.
I continue smearing the root paste. But there’s a loud voice in my head. This feels clumsy. Crude.
The sound of Quin’s voice in my mind cuts through the thoughts, sharp and goading. Trembling already?
I tighten my jaw at the imagined challenge and pour myself into rising to it. This girl will live.
And soon she stirs with a weak cry for her father. Almost a success—her breaths, although growing stronger, are mixed with whines of pain.
Her father gasps, gripping her hand, and my chest seizes. It’s working.
But she suffers.
Such unsophisticated methods really are a last resort.
I hand the father a bowl of the pherlies paste, instructing him to administer it daily for a week. “She’ll wake properly soon.”
The murmurs among the gathered crowd are unmistakable—a par-linea, using rudimentary remedies. That girl might be lucky I’m here, but no other patient will have me.
I force a smile and ignore the whispers. In the next tent, Akilah is working hard; she hands me a cup of bitter tea and points to a chest of herbs. “I’ve made all your usuals. If you need anything more specific, it’s in there.”
Movement catches my eye, and I glance over to a nearby tree. Nicostratus is lounging against it, his lips curling into a faint, approving smile. My stomach hops—when did he arrive? Why? What is that look in his eye?
Questions for later. His eyes follow my movement, as though he’s used to it after watching me for a while. I shake off the little shivers and force my focus back to the task at hand.
After twenty minutes of crafting pain-relief spells, I have a basket full of neatly encapsulated remedies.
I carry it to the next tent and address the older vitalian. “The queue is long. These can offer temporary relief.”
He examines the capsules with a flicker of surprise but quickly masks it. Florentius, ever pristine, scrutinises the basket with a scowl.
Akilah bristles beside me, but I hold her back. “May I distribute these?”
The older vitalian grunts, granting me permission.
I walk the line of patients, met with suspicion and avoidance. When I reach a middle-aged woman wracked with pain, I offer a dark blue capsule. She shakes her head, her husband’s shoulders sagging in despair.
“These were inspected. They’re safe,” I insist, but they still refuse, until—
The father of the little girl I treated lurches to his feet, his daughter awake in his arms. His eyes are shining with gratitude. He limps forward. “I’ll take one.”
He thanks me again as I measure his pulse, and with a relieved smile, I hand him a mid-strength capsule. The spell breaks open between his teeth, flooding through him with a glowing blue aura. The light dims; he flexes his bad leg and jostles his daughter onto his hip. Laughter crinkles his face. His daughter presses little kisses on his shoulder.
For three long beats, no one speaks, and then—
A ragged woman with a deep gash on her forearm steps forward, her eyes hooking on the capsules. She stretches out her blood-stained hand.
Whispers. Another two raised hands. Then another three.
The crowd’s shift in attitude is swift and unmistakable; I should feel relieved, but doubt gnaws. They’re desperate. They’ll take anything for now. If they had more choice, would they trust my spells?
Florentius’s scornful expression cuts over the patients’ cries of relief.
I keep my chin up, but there’s a niggling voice in my head that echoes the look on his face. “Are you an official vitalian?”
“I will be, after the examinations.”
“Aren’t they happening now?”
“They’ve been postponed. All masters and scholars have been sent to the worst hit regions.”
A giddy lurch fills my chest, slicing through my uncertainty. There’s still a chance?
River’s voice echoes in my head. Do you think I was good enough to be reborn linea? Do you think I’ll be able to learn in the schools? Become a scholar? Fill a soldad with stamps?
His biggest wish is mine. To learn. To become a great healer.
Why do we have to wait to be reborn linea?
“You can’t enter,” Florentius scoffs.
I stare, lips curving in a determined smile. As Calix Solin, I could.
“Even if,” he continues, “Your magic will be pitiful against pure linea. It’ll never be enough.”
I feel his words for a long time before I unclench my fist and shakily dust off my cloak. Maybe he’s right. Maybe one day my magic won’t be enough. But today . . . today, I was enough.
As for tomorrow? I’ll do my best.
Much later, shadows stretch across the courtyard, the scent of autumn dew clinging to the crisp air. Just as I near the corner, a strong arm pulls me back. I yelp, heart pounding.