Chương 54: Chapter 53: An Act of Concrete Kindness

As if destiny had granted it, sleep took her into its arms and this time, for the first time in a long while, there were no visions. There were no memories of the man she had been, no glass desks or black cats, no soldiers in primordial forests or voices uttering heresies. Only a peaceful blackness, a comforting void where the mind could finally rest. Only a sound reached her amidst that placid reality. A soft rhythmic tapping that grew louder, drawing closer, until it pulled her from the depths of unconsciousness.

Opening her eyes after stretching, she saw Anya holding her handbell high, her stout silhouette outlined against the grayish light of dawn. Then came the bath, the cold water clearing the last vestiges of sleep. The daily tasks assigned with the usual maternal efficiency. The steaming porridge in the dining hall, that same taste of boiled grain and salt that was already so familiar, so comforting in its constancy.

The collective prayer, the words of gratitude to Aelthra that Selena repeated with her lips while her mind already soared elsewhere. When Anya finally dismissed them at the gate, each with her own personalized ritual, Selena did not waste a second. She walked quickly toward Kaela, who was heading as usual toward the estuary, toward that path that was already so much her own. Once she reached her, she said without preamble: —I need you to help me with something.

She looked directly in her eyes, seeking to convey the urgency she felt. —I want to find a clinic of the Flow. Kaela, however, did not let her finish. A question leaped from her mouth before Selena could add anything more: —Are you sick? Her worried face was conspicuous, her brow furrowed, her dark eyes searching Selena from head to toe for any symptom, any sign of weakness. Selena laughed. She couldn't help it.

The image of Kaela —always so tough, so controlled— suddenly transformed into a worried mother, struck her with immense tenderness. Only then did she speak, while Kaela pulled a look of annoyance at being laughed at. —No. She stifled a giggle behind her hands, trying to regain her composure. —It is for someone else. —Someone else— the tanner replied, and although her tone was that of someone who had been bothered needlessly, her eyes had already softened. —I will guide you.

Kaela led her through alleys and dusty streets, through market cries that crossed in a constant cacophony, through the noises of houses waking to daily life. They walked for minutes, their steps marking a syncopated rhythm on the earth, until they reached the neighborhood's central market. It was not like the street stalls with their blankets spread over the ground and hawkers shouting offers.

These were well-kept facades in solid buildings, with painted wooden windows and strong doors that spoke of established businesses, steady clientele, and money that didn't need to be shouted about. Selena read a sign on a bright green building. Its lettering read: "Clinic of the Flow," and its symbol was a painstakingly painted anurhy, its rough green skin shining under the morning light.

The proximity to the established market gave it a mixture of scents that swirled in the air: fresh fish, red and white meat, the scent of diverse spices that tickled the nose, the sweet aroma of honey, and ripe fruits giving off their perfume. Curiosity won out over the desire to enter. Selena stopped for a moment and, looking at Kaela, asked: —Kaela, why would an anurhy be their symbol? She raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. The tanner stifled a laugh for a second.

She bit her lip, tried to contain it, but it escaped in the end, a brief but loud burst of laughter. —Isn't it obvious? She laughed a bit more, shaking her head. —Really lost as always, aren't you? Only after her snicker, when she saw the expression of genuine curiosity on Selena's face, did she design to explain: —Anurhys can regrow their body parts over time. If they lose a leg, another one grows. If they are hurt, they heal. That is why they are the symbol of healing, of recovery, of the Flow restoring balance.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Selena flushed slightly at her friend's laughter, but she was satisfied with the explanation. It made sense in this world of symbols and hidden meanings. Finally, she set a firm pace and pushed open the door of the clinic. They entered together. The interior was austere but clean, with a smell of dried herbs and beeswax that enveloped the space in an almost monastic calm.

Shelves with glass jars lined the walls, a solid wooden table, and behind it, a man in a white robe —humble but impeccable— who looked them up and down with an expression that left no room for doubt. The man evaluated them. His gaze traveled over their humble dresses, their worn sandals, the absence of ornaments or jewelry. Then, with a huff that was a speech in itself, he spoke: —What do you want?

The tone was that of someone who reproaches you for not being able to pay, someone who has already judged before listening, someone who knows that misery has no place in places like this. Selena felt annoyance and run down her spine. But she restrained herself. She sighed deeply, brushed aside the comment, and spoke, completely ignoring his attitude: —How much does the medicine for the bleeding cough cost?

Her tone made it clear that it was the only thing she wanted from him, that she wasn't there to put up with snubs or to justify herself. The man mimicked the gesture and sighed as well, as if the presence of those two women in his clinic were an unbearable nuisance. He tilted his head to one side, his eyes narrowed as he evaluated how much they could pay, and finally said: —Thirteen copper crowns. It is the medicine equivalent to five days. Enough to heal anyone. His tone was defiant, almost mocking.

As if he expected to see them turn around and leave with their tails between their legs. But Selena was no longer looking at him. Her hand, with deliberate calm, moved inside her bag. She counted the coins with precision, and once she had, she took out the thirteen bronze crowns and placed them on the counter separating the customers from the workers. The coins clinked against the wood, a dry and definitive sound.

Now smiling from ear to ear, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes but served its purpose, she said: —Don't belong. The man nodded, his face flushed, a blush that rose up his cheeks and tinted his ears. He disappeared through a back door, and after a few minutes returned with a small ceramic jar sealed with wax, the seal guaranteeing no one had opened it before. Selena took it carefully, like one holding treasure.

She wrapped it in her vest, protecting it, and then stored it in her bag with the same delicacy. Once that was done, she didn't even say goodbye to the man. She simply turned around and left, doing so in the most pedantic way she could, paying him back in full for his initial contempt. Upon leaving, Kaela burst into laughter. It was a free, loud laugh that drew the looks of some passersby. But Selena didn't hear her.

She was already walking fast, her steps marking the direction Kaela had taught her, the way back toward the hostel. Kaela finished laughing, caught up to her at a run, and after a few minutes they were in front of the Sacred Rest. But they did not stop. Selena continued, now leading the way, her steps sure, her heart beating with a mixture of urgency and hope. Until the low wall of old Orla's lodging house appeared before her eyes.

Selena returned to her smiling consciousness because she had seen it in the distance. A child with a chipped front tooth, that gap in his teeth that gave him an air of permanent mischief. A child watching others play with anurhys, his obsidian eyes shining with that mixture of desire and resignation that only poor children have. A boy with tangled hair and mended clothes. Rolus. Upon seeing them, the little one ran toward them with that elastic energy only childhood possesses.

His feet kicked up small plumes of dust; his smile widened with every step. When he was finally in front of them, Selena opened her mouth. —Little Rolus. She crouched down slowly, bending her knees until she was at his eye level. She took the jar from her bag with the same delicacy with which she had stored it and held it out to the boy's small, calloused hands. —I have a gift for your brother. It is medicine so he can heal. Rolus looked at the jar, his eyes widening.

Then he looked back at Selena, as if he couldn't believe it. —Hold it tight and keep it safe —Selena continued, her voice soft but firm. —This is a gift I am giving you for helping me when you don't have to. The gift of a lost woman for children who can save themselves from getting lost. The words fell on Rolus like a blessing. His eyes —those dark eyes that had seen too much for his age— began to fill with tears. He blinked once, twice, trying to contain them, but it was useless.

Crying took hold of the boy, a sob that shook his shoulders and blurred his gaze. With a trembling voice, broken by tears, he said: —Thank you for saving Dad. Selena ran her hand through his tangled hair, feeling the rough texture under her fingers, the heat of his head, the life teeming in that small body. Smiling, with a smile that reached her soul, she said: —Just tell him he must put it in boiling water and then breathe in the vapor. In five days, he should be well.

Rolus nodded, tears falling down his cheeks, tracing clean paths through the dust on his skin. Then, without a word, he ran off. His slight figure disappeared among the alleys with the speed of one carrying a treasure, with the urgency of one who knows that every second counts. Selena stood up slowly and turned to Kaela. The tanner was also crying. Her tears reflected the warm morning sun, small liquid gems rolling down her cheeks and falling to the ground.

With a trembling voice, barely a whisper, she said: —No one does that. She shook her head, as if she couldn't believe it. —No one would spend their crowns on a child from the estuary. No one. Selena, uncomfortable with the praise, with that look of admiration Kaela directed at her, downplayed it as she always did. She moved her hands, shook her head, searched for excuses. —Anyone would do it —she insisted, with a simplicity that didn't intend to be modest, that was simply her way of seeing the world.

—It is just an act of concrete kindness. But deep down, in that place where the echoes of the man she had been resided, she knew it wasn't true. She knew that in this world of brutal hierarchies and pyres for heretics, concrete kindness was a luxury few could afford. And that she, Selena, the woman without a past, had just done something no one else would do.