She resolved to put him out of her mind.
No matter how many times Dakon urged her father otherwise, Veran always came to the servants’ door and today was no exception. She found him pacing in the corridor outside the kitchen. When he saw her he frowned and she realised she was still scowling at her encounter with Jayan.
“Are you missing a particularly important lesson today?” he asked, picking up his bag.
She shook her head and smiled. “No. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to do with Dakon or magic or lessons. Just a petty annoyance. Where’s Aran?” She had grown used to the presence of her father’s new assistant, a quiet boy with a missing lower leg who had grown up on one of the more distant farms. The boy’s deformity prevented him from joining in with more robust tasks in the field, despite being remarkably agile on the wooden leg his father had made for him, but he had a quick mind and, she grudgingly admitted to herself, was proving a good choice for assistant.
“Visiting his grandmother,” her father replied. “She’s broken her arm and he’s helping her out.”
“Ah. So who are we treating today?”
He led her out of the Residence before he answered.
“Yaden, Jornen’s son. Pains in the belly early this morning. Worse now. I suspect an inflamed appendix.”
Tessia nodded. A dangerous condition. Her father might have to attempt surgery to remove the organ and the chances of infection were high. The boy could easily die.
Reaching the main road, they strode down to one of the last houses in the village, belonging to Jornen the metal worker. The man’s workshop was a small distance from the rear of his home, down by one of the streams that flowed into the river. On most days the smoke from his forge blew away from the houses, but occasionally what was known locally as “the smoke wind” gusted distinctly metallic-smelling clouds over the village.
Tessia’s father stepped up to the door and knocked. The sound of running feet echoed inside the house, then the door opened and two small children stared up at them; a girl and a boy. The girl ran back into the house, crying: “They’re here! They’re here!” while the boy took Veran’s hand and led him upstairs to where Jornen and his wife, Possa, were waiting. A baby in the woman’s arms quietly snuffled its displeasure.
“He’s in here,” the metal worker said, gesturing to a bedroom.
It was a tiny room filled with a metal-framed three-tier bunk bed. Yaden, a boy of about twelve, was curled up on the bottom mattress, moaning loudly.
Tessia watched her father inspect Yaden, prodding his abdomen gently, timing the rhythm of his heart and breathing and asking questions. The two children who had greeted them at the door appeared, with two older boys in tow. One of the newcomers was leading the other by a rope around his neck.
“What’s this?” Possa said, her voice strained. “What are you doing with that rope?”
“We’re playing master and slave,” one of the boys said.
Tessia and the mother exchanged a look of dismay.
“Take it off,” Possa ordered. “We’re not Sachakans. We don’t enslave people. It’s wrong.”
To Tessia’s amusement, both boys looked disappointed as they removed the rope.
“What about the slave Lord Dakon has?” the one who’d worn the rope asked.
“He’s not a slave any more,” Tessia told him gently. “He’s free now.”
“But he still acts weird,” the other boy said.
“That’s because he’s not used to being free. And he doesn’t know our ways yet. But he’ll learn them. He’s actually nice, when you get to know him.”
The children looked thoughtful. Hearing a sniff, Tessia turned to see a doubtful look on Possa’s face. The woman quickly looked away. Veran made a low noise of concern. He straightened, knocking his head on the middle bunk.
“There’s not enough room for me to work here. Can we move him somewhere with more space?”
“The kitchen?” the metal worker suggested, looking at his wife. She shook her head.
“Too dirty. The cellar’s got more room.”
Her husband entered the bedroom, lifted his son and carried him down the stairs, the small crowd of family following. Tessia and Veran trailed behind them down to the lower floor and along the corridor towards the back of the house.
Glancing through an open door, Tessia glimpsed a kitchen table overflowing with utensils, vessels and baskets filled with the familiar shapes of edible fungi. She nodded to herself, approving of Possa’s reluctance to take Yaden to a place covered in dirt and manure. Perhaps her father’s and grandfather’s efforts to instil a respect for hygiene in the villagers hadn’t been as futile as they had often suspected.
The long column of bodies descended another staircase. They reached a cold room smelling of damp and mould, with a time-darkened old wooden table covered in grime in the middle, and Tessia felt her heart sink. This was barely healthier than the dirty kitchen table.
“Get the lamp,” the metal worker ordered, but to which child Tessia couldn’t guess in the dimness. She felt someone smaller than her trip over her shoe and heard an exclamation of pain. Backing away, she heard a protest as she stepped on someone else’s foot.
She concentrated and abruptly the room filled with brilliance. All sounds ceased. Guessing the family and her father were all as dazzled as she was, Tessia reduced the ball of light floating up near the ceiling to a softer glow.
Looking around, she realised the metal worker and family were all staring at her. Even her father appeared astonished. She felt her face warming. Then Yaden groaned with pain and all eyes returned to him. Tessia sighed with relief. The boy was placed on the table. Tessia’s father handed her his bag then moved to Yaden’s side. She removed the burner and began to set it up on an old stool. The metal worker’s wife eyed Tessia warily, then gathered all the children and drew them from the room.
The next few hours were a mix of familiar methods and routines, and the less familiar demands of surgery. Once, her father glanced up at the globe of light and asked Tessia to bring it closer to the table. She felt heartened by his acceptance of her use of magic. The metal worker made a strangled noise as Veran made the first cut, then hurried out of the cellar.
Finally they were done. Tessia replaced the last of the tools, seared clean, in her father’s bag. Yaden was now unconscious, but the rhythm of his breathing and blood was steady and strong. Her father gave the child one last thoughtful look, then turned to Tessia.
He smiled, then glanced meaningfully at the globe of light.
“Handy trick, that one. It’s good to see you’ve been paying attention to your lessons.”
She shrugged. “It’s like learning the right way to use bandages. Once you know how, you don’t think too much about it. I’m sure there’s much harder magic to learn.”
Something shifted in his gaze, removing the humour from his smile for a moment.
“It might...I suspect it would be unsettling for the villagers if you kept surprising them like that, though.”
She nodded. “Yes. I think I might have scared them. Now I’ve seen how they react...I don’t think I’ll be drawing attention to myself like that again.”
“Not unless it’s necessary.” He shrugged. “I’m sure they’d understand if you had to defend the village or save a life. You better let the family know we’re finished.”
She handed him his bag, then moved to the doorway. A lamp was sitting on the floor in the corridor. Picking it up, she moved it to the floor beside the boy then extinguished her light, leaving the room lit only by the comforting glow of the lamp.
“
Tessia and her father stopped and looked at each other. Then she picked up the lamp and held it to one side of Yaden’s head. His eyes were open. They moved to Veran.
