Chương 66: Chapter 67 - The Infirmary

The Academy Infirmary stood close to the main gate, occupying a broad two-story building of the same red brick Arien had already learned to associate with the campus. It was considerably prettier than most of the dormitories. Stone vines curled around the tall windows, flowers had been carved into the arches, and small statues of gods and legendary heroes watched over the entrance from alcoves in the walls. The queue outside was less impressive.

It stretched from beneath the entrance arch almost halfway across the courtyard. Arien slowed as he approached. A laborer in patched trousers stood behind a woman wearing enough jewelry to pay for his family's house several times over. Two soldiers waited beside an elderly man leaning heavily on a cane. Farther ahead, a mother held a coughing child against her chest while a richly dressed nobleman stared impatiently toward the doors. Nobody appeared to receive special treatment.

At the head of the line sat a thoroughly bored-looking student from the House of the Quill behind a tall desk. He asked each patient several questions, scribbled something down, and either handed them a slip of paper or sent them away. Arien was still watching when the nobleman reached the desk. The exchange lasted less than a minute before the clerk shook his head. The nobleman grimaced but left without arguing, and the limping laborer behind him moved forward. Huh.

Perhaps the Academy's talk about status mattering less inside its grounds wasn't entirely ceremonial after all. Arien slipped past the queue and entered. The hall smelled of herbs, sweat, clean linen, and something metallic beneath it all. Benches lined the walls, every one occupied by patients clutching numbered slips or leaning against relatives with bandaged limbs. A few glanced at Arien's black Academy robe before turning back toward the broad wooden doors at the far end. A moment later, they opened.

A man emerged backward, bowing repeatedly toward whoever remained beyond the doors.

"I'll pray for every one of you! Every day! May Sul watch over every Master Healer in this place!" For the brief moment the doors remained open, Arien caught voices, hurried footsteps, and someone crying out from inside. The man straightened and immediately addressed everyone waiting as though they had asked for an explanation.

"Gods' exiles, I tell you. Two years!" He slapped one hand against his lower back.

"Two years this cursed thing tormented me. Ointments, draughts, exercises, some foul-smelling paste a herbalist swore by. Nothing worked. A few hours in there and it's gone." He slapped his lower back again.

"And not a single bronze coin!" he added. The man bowed toward the doors one final time before walking away with a spring in his step that made his story rather convincing. Arien watched him leave. He was starting to understand why Academy Healers were so highly regarded. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be inside already. He approached the doors and knocked.

"We'll call you when it's your turn!" someone shouted from the other side. He waited a moment, then knocked again.

"What kind of rude—" The door opened barely wide enough for the attendant to look out. He frowned at Arien, then glanced down at his Academy robe.

"A student?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing out here?"

"I'm here for my practicum with Master Lamaral. I wasn't sure where I was supposed to go." The attendant looked him over again, his gaze lingering on Arien's face.

"First-year?" This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Yes." He opened the door wider and stepped aside.

"Right. Come in. Master Lamaral is near the far end, beside the patient in red. You'll see the crowd around her."

"Thank you." Arien stepped through and found himself in a vast ward, far busier than the waiting hall outside. Beds occupied both sides of it, nearly every one containing a patient. Students hurried between them carrying bowls, clean bandages, medicines, trays of instruments, and bottles containing liquids of half a dozen different colors. Some spoke quietly with patients. Others changed dressings. Several stood in small groups around senior students or Healers, watching magic being performed.

Nobody seemed to remain still for more than a few seconds. Arien barely noticed any of it at first. The entire ward was saturated with Life mana. His Mana Sense opened almost instinctively. Green-gold particles, far denser than anything he normally encountered, drifted through the air in overlapping currents. Some came from active healing, while others gathered around artifacts mounted between the beds. But not all of it was artificial. Arien's attention shifted toward the windowsills.

Dozens of plants filled the windowsills, from flowering herbs to broad-leafed vines and unfamiliar shrubs in ceramic pots. Each resonated faintly with Life mana. There had to be fifty beds here, perhaps more, almost all occupied. With everyone moving between them, Arien guessed there were well over a hundred people in the ward. Near the far end of the ward, one concentration of mana stood out from everything around it. He made his way toward it. A dozen students had formed a semicircle around one of the beds.

Arien stopped behind them. A young woman lay beneath a thin blanket, while a black-haired Healer stood beside her with both hands resting against her chest. Lamaral Hetwin. Velia had warned him that Lamaral looked unusually young, and now Arien understood what she meant. He would have guessed her to be around twenty-five. According to Velia, she was closer to fifty.

The girl had told him that Lamaral could have earned a fortune treating nobles privately, but chose to spend much of her time teaching students and working in the Infirmary instead. Judging by the crowd outside, Arien could see why that had earned her such a reputation. She was striking, with black hair framing a youthful face, clear blue eyes lowered in concentration, and none of the visible signs of age Arien would have expected from someone nearing fifty. High Vitality, most likely.

Arien's attention shifted to the dense streams of Life mana flowing from Lamaral's hands into the patient's body. He had used Life mana for years, treating injuries, experimenting with regeneration, and learning to guide it through living tissue with increasing precision. What Lamaral was doing barely resembled the same magic. Through Mana Sense, the flow was far denser than anything Arien could produce, yet every strand remained under precise control.

He forgot about introductions and watched as the flow gradually weakened over the next few minutes, thinning to a single thread before disappearing entirely. Lamaral removed her hands, and the woman opened her eyes. She looked young, perhaps not yet twenty, though exhaustion made her seem older. After a few moments, she pushed herself upright, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and carefully straightened her back. She took several slow breaths, each deeper than the last.

When no pain came, her eyes widened, and she inhaled once more as if testing whether it would return.

"Am I cured?" she asked.

"Will it stay this way?"

"Yes." Lamaral's voice was deeper than Arien had expected.

"The damaged tissue has healed properly. You may experience some discomfort for the next few days, but that should pass." She gestured toward one of the students.

"Ulia, prepare the herbal mixture we discussed and explain how she should brew it. Once a day for the next two weeks."

"Yes, Master."

"Show her the breathing exercises as well. Five minutes before sleep should be sufficient." The patient nodded rapidly.

"Thank you. Thank you so much, I—" Lamaral gave her a small smile before turning toward the students gathered around the bed.

"The rest of you will submit your observations of the entire procedure. Patient intake, diagnosis, treatment, and discharge. Include every spell you believe could have been used and explain why." Several students immediately began writing. Lamaral looked past them and spotted Arien.

"Arien. With me." She turned and started toward the far end of the ward. Several students glanced after them as Arien hurried to catch up.

"I hear you've achieved your first Specialization in the Aspect of Life?"

"Yes, Master."

"At eight years old." Arien glanced at her.

"Yes, Master." Lamaral pushed open another set of doors. Arien followed her into a quieter ward with fewer patients and far fewer students, but almost every bed held someone whose condition made the injuries outside look trivial. One man was missing a leg above the knee. A woman farther down the ward had burns covering half her face and both arms. Another patient lay almost completely hidden beneath bandages. The air smelled more strongly of blood and medicine, and beneath both Arien sensed something else.

Death mana. He slowed, but Lamaral kept walking.

"Have you practiced on animals or humans?" Something in Lamaral's voice put Arien on guard. She did not sound merely curious. For a moment, he had the uncomfortable impression that he had done something wrong and she already knew about it.