Chapter 52

Aisha was already drunk by the time she was shown into King Fenard’s parlor. Fenard had been forewarned, so he was not offended, but rather prepared for her appearance with a glass of Worthmus brandy in each hand. She took them both, drained one and nursed the other, as he coaxed her into one of the couches.

He had only scant details over what had triggered this sudden drunkenness in the previously hyper-professional healer, but he figured that if she wanted to drown whatever it was with alcohol, he would oblige her. At least until it became clear that she had a problem, which he was not anticipating.

“This stuff is good,” she commented as she sipped the second glass of brandy.

“It comes from the valley where Tom was born,” Fenard explained. “I had several casks purchased because of that, but I’ve taken a liking to it myself since then.”

“Thirty, maybe forty proof,” she commented. “Tangy, with a bit of zest. What makes it purple?”

“It’s the color of the fruit that they distill it from,” Fenard explained. “It only grows in that valley.”

“Huh,” she said, and she drained the rest of the glass. He poured her another.

“May I ask what is wrong?” Fenard inquired.

“You may,” She answered.

Fenard waited. Then he snorted. “My tutors used to do that to me as well. What is wrong, Heroine Aisha?”

“I nearly crippled someone today,” she answered.

“I see,” King fenard said. “I’m going to focus on the ‘nearly’ modifier of that statement because it implies that you avoided this unfortunate event. I’m assuming it was a nearly avoided accident?”

“No.” Aisha sighed, sloshing the brandy around in her glass as she worked the words over in her drunken mind. “A boy presented to my clinic with a mangled hand. Some sort of farm or industrial accident, I didn’t get the whole story. I think he was lying to protect someone. It doesn’t matter, really. He was sixteen years old, which I guess in this world is old enough to work. Anyway, I anesthetized him with my level ten skill and went about surgically setting his crushed bones and mending them along the way with my magic.”

Fenard listened, then in a pause said “It sounds like you un-crippled someone today, not--”

“My assistant stopped me. I was about to make a cut with my scalpel and she grabbed my hand. She said ‘you were about to cut his lifeline.’ I dismissed it at the time, although I did cut from a different angle. It wasn’t until I was healing him, after the surgery was completed, that I realized what she meant.”

Fenard frowned. “I don’t understand. I assume that if you were cutting that close to a lifeline you would be taking the suitable--”

“Goddammit Fenard, people on earth don’t have veins of invisible magic flowing through their bodies! I didn’t realize what I’d almost done until I went to heal, and the place where I’d almost cut him started to glow. I asked my assistant what he meant, and he looked at me like I was a fool. And goddamn it, I am one.”

Fenard was silent for a moment before filling her glass once more. “I see. The mana circulation system is not part of your training.”

“No,” she said, laughing. “No it is not.”

“Yet your ability uses it to heal. Is there not any overlap between your knowledge and your abilities as a Medico?” Fenard persisted.

“When I use my magic, it just works,” she explained. “I don’t have to think about it or anything. I just basically say ‘be well!’ and the magic heals my patient’s wounds.”

Fenard nodded. He considered how to deal with the situation, now that he understood the root of the problem. “Many healers, but not all of them, unlock an ocular ability which allows them to see life-lines,” he said. “There’s a chance that you’ll be in that category.”

“I can’t perform surgery if there’s an invisible nerves that I could nick and cripple my patient,” Aisha pointed out. “And if I can’t heal, then my leveling stalls out. I’m useless, Fenard. You had might as well send me back to Earth.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Fenard reminded her. “Anyway, even without the Healer’s Eye ability, many in my world learn enough about the matter that they feel comfortable healing with a knife as you do. You can simply study the matter until your confidence returns.”

Aisha laughed. “How am I supposed to study something that I can’t see, Fenard?”

“You simply make it visible,” Fenard explained. “One moment, I’ll be back shortly.”

Fenard stepped out of his parlor and summoned his court magician. After conferring with the man for a few moments, the magician left to fetch the documents the king requested, while King Fenard returned to Aisha’s side.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I have just conferred with an expert on the subject. There is a very simple magic ritual which causes Life Lines to become illuminated. You simply need a skilled mage to perform it and--”

“A lot of good that does me,” Aisha complained. “I’m not a skilled mage, and I don’t know anything about ritual magic.”

“No,” King Fenard admitted. “But you do know someone who does.”

~~~~~~~~

The griffin landed near the Weaver’s camp, and Anaxis dismounted, patting the furred and feathered beast affectionately. Vella had rushed over when it became clear where the man was landing, and she stood patiently at a distance as the man unstrapped the saddle from his winged mount.

“Did you get the books I asked for?” Vella asked as Anaxis was scratching the griffin in the places where the saddle’s girdle rubbed.

“I did indeed, through no small amount of effort and painstaking search of the extensive collections of three cities which I visited for the singular purpose of pleasing the young mistress,” Anaxis answered.

“Don’t pretend that you went super far out of your way for it,” Vella protested. “I know you wouldn’t have done that. You probably found them all in the first store you visited and had five other reasons to go there in the first place.”

Anaxis tsked. “I visited three bookstores to get them, in three different cities, young lady,” he insisted. “Although you’re not entirely wrong. I had reasons to visit those cities aside from fulfilling your task, and visiting the bookstores was not particularly onerous.”

He retrieved from his bag seven pressed books of various thicknesses and passed them over to the child Mage, who took them with glee.

“Thank you, oh great and wonderful Anaxis, for your kindness,” she said, exaggerating her words deliberately.

“It is the least I can do for a future magician of great renown,” he insisted, bowing to her. She ran off, and he returned to tending to his griffin, who had seen a long flight today and would be hungry.

Vella plopped down nearby and began digging into the books that he had brought her. The three books that she had bought from Nelz the librarian had recommended these seven as starter tomes for any promising young mage, and she had every intention on being promising. She knew that she’d already be years behind compared to the great Mage families of the capital, the ones where a child not awakening as a mage at a young age was as remarkable as someone like her doing it in the first place.

Not that she was especially handicapped, as many who made the jump from Commoner to Mage did so in their twenties. But she was to be studying with the great families, so she was anticipating being held to their standards. That meant that she wanted to get a head start on her studies and come to them fully prepared for whatever questions might be asked.

Thus, her self-imposed research regimen.

She was scanning through the index of A Beginner’s Guide to Magical Foci when Norman Weaver finished setting up the tent he shared with his wife and came over to greet their guest.

“The little one isn’t giving you any trouble, is she?” Norman asked.

“She is perhaps a little impatient to grow up, that is all,” Anaxis answered. “However, I must admit that I did not come here merely to make a book delivery.”

“I was sort of wondering when I saw you circling,” Norman admitted. “I thought that our business was concluded when I dropped off the textiles at Tukson. Is there something wrong with the goods I delivered?”

“Quite the opposite! They are all of the absolute highest quality and I look forward to presenting them to Queen Gloracia myself! That will of course be after a seamstress has converted them into a lovely wardrobe for her royal majesty, and that will be in the current styles of Koratia and not Welsius, of course. But the fabric’s origin will be most remarked upon by all parties, I assure you.”

“Oh? Earlier you made it sound as though the queen would faint over samples of the fabrics themselves.”

“And I’m certain that she would! But let us be honest with each other, I’m certain you know as well as I do that the wealthy and the powerful do not have the time to see to all of the minor details and minutia of everyday living. My humble queen entrusts a loyal team of fashionistas to ensure that her wardrobe stays up to date and in the current trends. They are the ones who will be remarking upon the qualities of your cloth, and she will trust them at their word much more than a man like myself. I will be present merely to vouch for its origin, as the one who purchased and shipped it across the wilds between our two nations.”

Norman chuckled. “As long as I can honestly say from hence forth that I’ve sold cloth that the Queen of Koratia has worn, I don’t really care for the details,” He admitted.

“And I assure you that is the honest truth,” Anaxis said. “However, you’re not entirely wrong to be concerned by my presence. I am not here on business. Or at least, I am not here related to the business of buying and selling cloth. Rather, of my other business. I also buy and sell information. Recently, I purchased a piece of information which I found most troublesome.”

“And what is that? Or do I have to pay you for the answer to that question?” Norman asked.

“It was your itinerary, Norman,” Anaxis answered. “Somehow, your planned route to the capital has leaked to the information community.”

Norman frowned. “What would a bunch of spies care about my whereabouts? I’m just a--”

“You’re just the father of the first Controller to appear in the world for decades, Norman,” Anaxis said, interrupting the man. “I believe that the importance of your son’s class still hasn’t struck home to you yet, so I’ll forgive you for being ignorant of how important that makes you and your wife by proxy. To me and my queen, that increases the value of your goods. To the leaders of the other four great nations, that makes you potential hostages. I suggest, strongly, that you change your route as soon as possible, even if that means traveling significantly out of your way.”

“I see,” Norman said, and he frowned. “Thank you for the warning then, Anaxis. Was that really the entire reason you came to see us?”

“No. I came to warn you, and, unless you drive me off, I came to guard you personally until a more suitable escort arrives from the king of Welsius. I am a level forty-six rogue, you see, aside from being a Winged Courier. While I may not be the ideal bodyguard, I would not be able to look your son in the eye again if I knew that his family was in danger and did nothing to protect them.”