Chương 222: Chapter 243: Connerclave

I watched a team of doctors wheeling Viscountess Isther Hsia out of her room on a gurney, on Sixthday morning. It's not something you normally see around here, because almost all of those matters are dealt with by calling in a magical healer and just fixing the patient and all is done. There are doctors in this setting, and thank gods they're much better than they could be.

They don't understand germ theory at all, but they do wash their hands, they do keep clean linens, they don't bleed people or use trepanation as a first resort. In a world where the general level of scientific understanding is not yet ready for gas lamps, and medical sciences have been rendered almost entirely superfluous by magic, the doctors here could have been using beads and rattles.

Fortunately this was not the case, and she was actually going to be cared for by ethical professionals with a real standard of care who were used to dealing specifically with ailments that magical healing cannot cover. Not that she'll need it, if I just stop renewing the conjuration that created her infection, it should clear up in just a couple of days without any further symptoms. She may have some small scarring in her alveoli, but that is something that normal healers can take care of.

It's funny how certain parts of society have bent around this phenomenon. The fact that healing is so easy has devalued the market for many kinds of medical care- who is going to pay more than a couple silver keys to have a broken leg repaired?

And yet the downward push on prices for normal medical care has pushed up the prices for any medical attention that healers can't solve, which has led to the small subset of trained doctors and surgeons being extremely well-funded, well-supported and well-educated, and seemingly far more competent than anyone would have expected. The other brands of magic don't even acknowledge the healers as colleagues or competitors, there's just no place in their taxonomy for them.

The scriveners, wizards and sorcerers who make up the body of official "magical practice" see nothing unusual about neglecting the clearly-magical effects of regenerating body tissues and restoring health with a glowing touch. As an analogy: three mechanical engineers are sitting around discussing their scientific practices.

A professional tennis player is sitting nearby, and despite the fact that everything in their career is built on principles of mechanical engineering and applied principles of physics, none of the engineers are inviting them to the conversation. Hell, even sorcerers leave them out of the conversation, and the other mages like to pretend we don't even exist. I leaned back against the wallpaper just twenty feet down the hallway, arms crossed, watching the orderlies bringing the poor freshman out of her room.

They even had the collapsible legs so that it could be carried evenly down a staircase. Isther was only semi-lucid but she glared at me from bloodshot eyes, and gave me the finger between coughing fits. I returned the gesture and the favor, and followed the white-smocked men all the way to the loading dock, bringing her to the ambulance wagon. Maybe it was just to gloat over this easy win over a nasty little piece of work who was badly outclassed.

Maybe it was to make sure I could help catch if anything went wrong bringing the patient down those spiraling stairs. That would depend on who was interpreting my actions. After all, I go out of my way to generate several different stories about my every move. The outcome was that I stood and waved as the ambulance wagon moved off at a slow and careful amble so as not to jostle the patient. Ambulances here were gentle and sedate, because nobody calls doctors for emergencies.

And then I turned, and went back upstairs, to find Gala Kralcit and thank her very much for the third time this week. I gave her a little hug and officially gave her the rest of the month off. She nearly cried in front of me. I have really worked her way too hard, and now I've got that guilt riding with me when I head up the hall to meet up with the others as we prepared for our outing.

Elica had won herself the veto power over our excursions for the first month of classes, and had immediately let me know that she would eliminate any possibility that did not include Yheta. She had hit me with it defiantly, challenging me. She is aware enough of my feelings about Yheta to know that if I had my way I'd never be in a room with him, so she was a bit surprised by how immediately and effortlessly I agreed. She even took a moment to be suspicious of how readily I acceded.

I pointed out that I had anticipated this demand from the moment she wanted veto power over our voyages. That mollified her. I walked into the room at the end of the hall on our floor. Slightly larger than the one we had been issued last year, but I was still adjusting to it. The acoustics were just a bit different, enough that I never really could ignore the fact that this is not the same room. Lachel's room. On the other hand it was just a bit more comfortable fitting all of us in.

Larianne and Vancy were sitting together at the window seat with someone from Vancy's crossbow classes named Traca, while at the vanity station Rinnie was helping Elica with her hair to get it up to standards. Today's standard was "Elica hasn't seen Yheta in weeks and she wants to make a stunning impression." I was bringing Rabert Frantlin along today, despite him being habitually awkward around most of my friends. His presence does have an additional benefit.

I can't really say that he brings out the worst in Yheta; after all, he's never caused the man to murder any of my relatives. But short of really dramatic examples like that, it does hold true enough. Yheta has the same chameleon instinct that nearly everyone has- people naturally conform their behavior to the standards of those around them. Who we are around our parents and pastor is not who we are around our peers or paramours.

And when Yheta is around Elica he is well-behaved, but when he's around Rabert he tends to be more frank about his dealings. And that serves a number of my purposes. So the window seats and the vanity are taken, and Rabert is leaning against the far wall near the door, reading a brochure with his head down. Nunxio is pacing around the room with his hands behind his back, just looking at our stuff, bored. I shut the door behind me.

"So, did I miss anything?" I asked, dusting my hands. One problem solved today, bring on the next! This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"I think there's been three eyebrows since you left," Nunxio said, nodding towards Elica and Rinnie. I know he's just fucking about because Elica never messes with her eyebrows, they're annoyingly perfect as-is. Both Rinnie and Elica scowled at him in the mirror.

"Rude," Larianne scolded. Her cousin did not look at all repentant.

"We used to do this from down in the quad," Nunxio pointed out, annoyed. He doesn't coop up well. I shrugged.

"Well, the stupid new rules don't specify that they apply only during school hours or only on school days, just the campus itself. So we need to be at least this circumspect." Thanks to the stupid new rules we couldn't use public spaces to teleport out. We even drew the curtains before we left so that the brilliant blaring burst of bright white light was not visible from outside the building. The portal took us away from the school, and set us down many good miles away.

The town was called Connerclave, and it did not have a lot to recommend it for an outing. It had more alchemy shops that you normally saw in a town that size, and the local tavern had a lock on the basement door whenever it wasn't being used as a pitfighting arena. The area was a little tougher and seedier than most semi-rural parts of Hearster.

"Nice place," Nunxio said. It did not sound sarcastic. He was looking around and excited by what he was seeing.

"Charming," Larianne said, must less impressed by it.

"Shut up. Where is he?" Elica asked, bustling about. I don't have a lot of good ways to pick someone out of a small town and find them. I've got a few- serpent essence can find people by scent, and if I channel rat essence I'm basically a bloodhound. Not very elegant or decorous essences, but very useful. The owl has good enough hearing to pick out specific voices out of a large area. But honestly my best method is the one I've already used: make a big enough display that whoever I'm here to see comes to find me.

If the goddess gives you a spotlight, learn to shine it. Yheta came around a corner, already including all of us in a smile. Early on he would put most of his attention on me, but Elica broke him of that habit with some solid nudges, and I was less difficult to be around if he's not being rude to my friends. Between the two of us he's acting like he's as happy to see her as me.

As far as Elica is concerned, this is all improvement, and whatever plans she has that ends with "and then marry Yheta" are still very much on track. This is the best their relationship has ever been, he's acting like he really gives her a chance. I'm counting down the days until I kill him. Actually, today is an important step in that process. Not a coincidence. I smile at him.

"Hey! Thanks for getting me your schedule so we could meet you up like this. I know you're hard at work, but it's nice that we can take a Sixthday together like we're all still students together!" He laughed.

"Honestly, it's kind of like I never left. Seeing you all like this just feels like I just came from the dorms myself!" He nodded to Vancy, Larianne, Nunxio and Rinnie, gave a curious look to Vancy's friend Traca, a considering look at Rabert, and then more broad smiles for me and Elica.

"Well, it has only been three weeks since graduation," Elica pointed out.

"True, right now I feel more like I let myself get roped into a working vacation, rather than leaving school and starting my new life," he said.

"Have you all had breakfast?" Connerclave did not have many restaurants and none that would have passed muster in Dandston, but Elica smiled cheerfully when he brought us all to a place that served breakfast and kept the rats out of the customer's sight. And that's my in. We give our orders to a server that heads back to the kitchen, and I give Yheta a strained smile.

"Yheta, forgive my saying so, but... what are you doing in a dump of a town like this?" Elica had positioned herself between me and him, which was fine with me. He's come a long way since we were kids, but his hands like my arms too much for my taste.

"Not my idea," Yheta said, shrugging.

"But, merchants have to travel, and I'm in a merchant family." He still sounded bitter. Born into the noble branch of Snairlin, heir to a fine title and a life of leisure, until his uncle decided that he was more suited to underhanded machinations and had him transferred into the working division. In Snairlin that's a promotion, the money managers run that whole show and the aristocrats are just there to wedge into politics and create opportunities.

But he's always had a hard time treating it like a promotion when the first thing to happen was he lost his inheritance and his baby sister was named heir in his place.

"So, this is one of the places that will hold a depot for the railroad?" I prompted.

"Sure, yes. And a small handful of the locals, influential business folk with diversified holdings, have already been shown the degree of opportunity that will be coming through. We're keeping it fairly quiet for now, so that the early adopters will have a chance to make some real money before the benefits become more widely available.

There's a certain spread of support industries we will need in place, and it will take time for our local representatives to make all the necessary construction or acquisition before the rails get laid." He has been getting better at talking about this stuff, gesturing fluidly, conveying with his voice and face. I can see how months of networking and recruiting has been shaping his skills. Really putting in the hours.

"Diversified holdings?" Larianne asked, tapping one of her long, bladed fingernails against her water glass. I take it upon myself to start chilling everyone's drinks, adding some ice cubes to some. Her smirk is a knowing one, she's heard those words before from her gangster relatives.

"Exactly so," Yheta said, nodding and sharing her knowing look.

"Why do they have you doing this?" Vancy asked.

"You're not a traveling salesman, you're management!"

"Upper management, on track to take over the company," Yheta said, nodding.

"Basically, for the same reason that aristocrats and titled nobility are needed for much of anything: as a proof of investment. Sure, this is a job that I could delegate to the underling of an underling, but all that gets you is some no-name page with the Snairlin livery riding into town and trying to make these people understand the business plan. It'd be years before they even got in the doors they needed to, and they'd never be able to overcome regionalisms or protective markets." Rabert nodded.

"Same principle as political marriages, ceremonies of state, and the entire vassal system. You can tell someone is serious when they send someone important to the meeting, or even a hand-written letter with the right signet." Clearly a matter of interest to him, he's still years away from finding out what his title will actually be.

We sit at the table and talk about the work he's been doing, town to town, with the prestige of the whole Lesser House in his pocket to open doors, schedule meetings, and motivate the right kind of greed. Having Lewot Snairlin's heir shows all the local fixers that this is a big deal and they need to be on the right side of it.

People who've spent years as the big fish in a small pond can have very sensitive egos dealing with players from outside, and sending a big name makes them feel like they're being taken seriously. I listen with great attention to all his stories.

"Oh, really, they said that?" I laughed at his anecdote.

"Have you gotten that response often?" Getting an accounting of where he's been, who he's met, and what deals were made. Lewot would kill every one of us if he knew that Yheta was casually giving this information away. But he wouldn't need to, because once I had what I needed his nephew would have no more use to me. Yheta has not yet learned that the best interrogations are done by someone you trust, over a hot meal in the mornings in a scruffy roadside diner.