The Serpent's Shadow

Nevertheless, she was grateful that she had invited Amelia along and that Amelia's classes permitted her to attend. The surprised glances, the knowing smirks they occasionally got as they worked their way down the wards were not so bad—but the glares of outright resentment and hostility were difficult to face down. It was good to have someone here who was prepared to render glare for glare.

It was hard work made harder by the fact that the other physicians gave her no help, and even pulled nurses away from helping her without so much as a 'by your leave,' but Maya's patients here needed her, and she would not leave them to the tender mercies of the less competent. These were working-class patients, mostly laborers, who had come to grief in work-related accidents. The moment they became injured, they ceased to earn their income, and the longer they remained out of work, the longer their families had to scrape by on nothing, or on the pittance that wives and those children old enough to work could bring in. She did what few other doctors would trouble themselves about; she brought cases to the attention of the parish and other charities, vouched for the men that they were genuinely injured and not attempting to collect money on false pretenses, and helped to steer them through the tangles of suspicion and doubt until they reached the other side with a little relief money to feed their families. She also did not wield the amputation saw with the vigor that other surgeons did. For a working man, that was more important than being helped to charity, for if appendages were amputated, he would find it hard to earn a living again, and if entire limbs were lopped off by someone who seemed to think humans as much in need of pruning as trees, it would be next to impossible to find employment.

Maya bent over one of these, Bill load, a tough, ugly man whose suspiciously glittering eyes had softened as soon as he saw her coming toward him down the ward.

'Well, Bill, I think another few days will be all you'll need,' she said, removing the dressings and examining the hand he held out to her. 'Bill, this is Amelia. She's a student friend of mine that I want to show injuries like yours. I think she'll be better than I am, one day.'

Amelia blushed. With his right hand imprisoned by Maya's grip, Bill couldn't touch his finger to his temple in salute, but he did offer a ghost of a smile. 'I hain't gonna say it's a pleasure, Miss, 'cause it hain't—but I reckon if Doctor Maya 'as ye in tow, ye'll be comin' on pretty well.'

Amelia bent over the swollen fingers with interest, noting the neat sutures along the sides. 'What happened here, Bill?' she asked. 'I don't think I've ever seen anything like this before.'

'Eh, not likely ye would,' he replied. 'Caught me 'and in summat new. 'S this machine, like a bloody great mangle.' His expression turned sour. 'Coulda stopped it hearlier and saved me 'and, but foreman wouldn't let 'em 'till 'e figured it was gonna jam 'is works if 'e let it go. Gonna see more o' these, I reckon. Hain't no room between them machines, an' no way of keepin' clear of 'em if ye put a foot wrong. 'S like that ev'rwhere now.'

'And no guards on the machines to keep you from getting caught foul and dragged into the works if you fall against one,' Maya added, her expression as sour as Bill load's. 'I don't know what they're making there—'

'Trimmin's,' Bill broke in. 'Fancy trimmin's for dresses an' bonnets an' all. Laces an' ribbons, Rooshes, an' bows an'—oh, the wife'd know what-all, I don't. Machine that got me's fer cuttin' an smoothin' the ribbon, then winding 'er all up on spool.'

'Makes me ashamed to put trimming on my dress!' Amelia burst out indignantly. Maya gave her a look of gratitude, but Bill shook his head.

'Not puttin' on trimmins 'ud just put us out o' work,' he replied. 'Tha's not the way. Dunno what is, but tha's not.' He did give Amelia one of his rare looks of gratitude, though. 'Th' butchers 'ere 'ud have took off me 'and, but I 'membered that me missus seen Doctor Maya at Fleet an' sez she wuz a corker, so I ast fer 'er. Man can't work 'thout a 'and.'

'It wasn't exactly a crushing injury, although it did break some of the bones of the fingers,' Maya went on, pointing out where she'd splinted the fingers with a care to the slashes she'd sutured. 'It was the knives that cut the fabric into ribbons that did most of the damage; I sewed them up, but then made open, removable splints so I could keep an eye on the slashes—'

'And a very neat job of sewing, but better served in mending shirts and gowns for your betters,' said a loud voice behind them. Maya put Bill's hand down carefully, then turned, slowly and deliberately, to face the speaker. She looked him up and down with calculated insolence.

A medical student—probably a surgeon in training, since they were the most arrogant of the lot—dressed as nattily as any West Ender on an outing, in his gray suit, waistcoat with a thick gold watch chain draped across the front, and impeccable linen.

'Thank you for the . . . compliment,' she replied, keeping her voice smooth and level, although Amelia seethed with resentment. 'I don't believe I caught your name; I thought it was considered appropriate for students to introduce themselves to surgeons before joining their rounds.'

'Perhaps. I shouldn't think I'd be demanding that sort of ceremony if I were in your place,' the man replied, a sneer disfiguring an otherwise handsome face. 'A half-breed mongrel bitch like you should consider herself lucky to be allowed inside these walls, much less permitted to practice as a doctor here.'

The words struck Maya like blows, and before she could recover from them, he turned on his heel and stalked away toward the entrance to the ward, between the rows of beds.

Anger made her flush hotly and tremble as she tried to hold it in; for a moment, she had no thought other than for her anger. Her palm itched to slap him; no, more than that, she wanted to run after him, jerk him around, and hit him.