It’s a pity larger sapphires are so rare, she thought while filling the beaker. How much water they produced, or how much a topaz could heal, was a function of their size. It limited both how much power it held and how big the effect it created. Her eyes flicked to the cloth-covered Recorder. She’d never heard of gems so large, let alone entwined around each other with such perfection.
What other secrets would they find in it? The ancients had mastery of the jewels, so all the stories said, before their hubris had awakened the Black and shattered Elohm’s harmonious Colours. Those persisting legends had inspired the re-discovery of jewelchines nearly a hundred years ago.
As the water filled the beaker, she noticed Dualayn adding wolfsbane to the concoction. She frowned. “Father, are you adding the right herbs?”
“We’ll need to put him deeply under, child,” Dualayn said, not pausing in his grinding. “Wolfsbane will render him in a deep coma for the level of surgery we’ll be performing.”
“Surgery?”
“Yes, yes, we’re going to implant topaz healers throughout the body. It’s something my colleagues are experimenting with in the Democh Empire. The Recorder makes reference to something similar. There are nodes in the body that can be . . . manipulated by jewels. I think. It’s very interesting research. Carstin is the perfect candidate for the procedure. Whatever the White Lady did, the harmonics cannot last forever. We must take advantage of them to push forward the bounds of healing science.”
“Okay.” Avena blinked at the possibilities. Healing jewelchines pressed against wounds could do wonders for infection and sped up the knitting of bones and the closing of wounds.
She finished filling the beaker and placed it on the now cherry-red coil of cast iron. Heat radiated from it, burning with the same intensity of a campfire. Water hissed as a few drops splashed on glowing metal. Soon, bubbles formed along the inside of the glass and vapor rippled out of the top. It came closer and closer to a full boil as Dualayn finished his mixing. He grabbed the poppy oil from the cabinet and rushed over.
“Mix these in as soon as it’s boiled, child,” he said. “I shall fetch our stock of topazes.”
She nodded.
He twisted the combination dial on the vault’s lock then opened the heavy door. Curiosity always itched at her to see the riches that must be placed in there. She would never steal from Dualayn, but she wanted to see such a dazzling collection of jewels. He bought many of them, particularly topazes, for his research or for constructing devices to keep his estate funded. He emerged with a handful of the orange gems, each wrapped in a precise way with gold wires to facilitate their power. It wasn’t just the gem, but how they were cut and bound with the wire. There were so many different ways to wrap them up, and you never knew the effect until you did, though Dualayn had theories.
With tongs, she pulled the beaker from the heat. She mixed in the bitter concoction of herbs and the poppy oil. She stirred with a metal rod. The concoction darkened almost black before lightening to a brown as the various chemical reactions occurred. A sweet scent brushed her nose; a heady sway rushed through her.
Across the sea, the Tethyrians used poppy to make white dream.
She placed the concoction back on the heat, letting the water boil down to concentrate the effect. Then she sterilized the surgical tools with wood alcohol, dipping in each before wiping it down with a clean rag. She set them on a white towel, each scalpel, tong, and spreader gleaming. They were all made of the new stainless steel coming out of the factories, a remarkable metal achieved only with the power of ruby furnaces.
It took an hour before they were ready and the anesthesia had cooled enough to be administered. She shoved a funnel into Carstin’s mouth and poured it in while Dualayn peered at his pocket watch, the second hand ticking away as the last of the brown liquid vanished into his gullet.
Dualayn thumbed back an eyelid.
Avena always had a nervous rile to her stomach before assisting a surgery, and today was worse than most. Carstin was so weak. They would carve him up to save his life. It seemed cruel but was necessary. Healing sometimes caused more pain to the patient, more suffering, but the alternatives were worse.
She wouldn’t let him die.
“Let’s begin, child,” Dualayn said after ten more minutes.
She used scissors to cut away the bandage on his leg while Dualayn made the first incision down Carstin’s chest. Blood oozed out. The sight didn’t affect her any longer. She had seen a dozen or more surgeries, inured to the necessary infliction of harm. A calm fell on her, a bit of that emptiness lurking inside of her swelling though her soul. She didn’t feel any emotions in it.
Just like when Mother had forced Evane’s face into the whitewash. Detached.
“Sponge up the blood,” Dualayn said, his hand steady as his cut drew down the abdomen.
“Yes, Father,” she said, her voice monotone. She picked up the cloth and wiped up the blood, the warmth soaking through her fingers.
In moments, Dualayn completed his incision, forming a forking branch, and began exposing the ribs and internal organs. She studied them, noting their appearance, looking for any sign of damage, any bleeding that needed to be controlled.
Dualayn inserted the first jewelchine when he glanced at Carstin’s chest. The exposed ribs, wrapped with bloody muscles, didn’t rise or fall. Concern flicked across Dualayn’s face. He thumbed back
