Roher took Saer to a place where a long tent was fixed. Small houses with slate roofs but the houses were not near to each other. He could tell why. All of those houses had farms with grunting pigs roaming in there. Saer smelled the foul fume from distance. Even the man whom he considered filthy covered his nose.
Farmers were pouring manure on their gardens and stomping for leveling. Children spread grains whereas the women watered.
Through a line of patients under the tent, Saer saw a small house with the closed door. Saer would have thought the doctor was yet to arrive if he hadn’t seen an old man carrying her pale daughter outside from the house. They also decided to go and wait in the tent for their turn.
“Do you know my name?” Roher asked.
“Roher.” Saer guessed.
“Tell her my name and maybe you will get some privileges.”
“Does she know you good?”
“She loves the pigs I raise.”
“ROHER! DON’T BRING PEOPLE WITH LEPROSY HERE.” A man bellowed at him.
Saer looked at Roher, who was trying to recall the reason for Saer’s blisters. He settled with, “He’s just injured.”
“Shoo!” but the man continued.
Saer pulled a knife from Roher’s waist and placed it on the insulting man’s chin.
“Don’t shoo at me. I am not your fucking pig.” Saer came to point, “These are burns. Not leprosy.”
“Are you insane?” Roher snapped in low voice, “Give me my knife back!”
Those who had been dying to see Saer started to turn their heads elsewhere. People whose eyes matched with Saer’s looked away, pretending to be gazing somewhere else from the start. With the knife on his chin, Saer made sure he was not getting look of disgust of anyone.
“YOU!” someone wearing a mask pointed at Saer from the open door, “Come in before you flesh falls off your bones.” The figure waited for Saer to give Roher his weapon back. As the knife rested on Roher’s waist, she went in by leaving the door open.
“Doctor Eryne.” Roher said. He didn’t convince Saer to get in and instead went towards his horse without any farewell.
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Saer walked through the crowd. Just by redness on their faces he could tell they were not used to of violence. It took a Azmrese to let them know what violence tasted like.
Saer then went inside the room. He didn’t need to brainstorm for what he had to say in there. The spectacle of a shaking woman in unconsciousness impeded him from expressing the much needed apology. Underneath her was a pool of blood. Apparently she had no interest in Saer’s justification. She shook off excess liquid from her scissor and pincer. Some of its droplets fell on simmering water, turned crimson.
“I am sorry for it.” Saer uttered.
“You’re apologizing to wrong person.” She said, drying her equipments on cloth, “But you can thank me for allowing you to be in here.”
Saer didn’t have attention in what she was saying. The room had everything which had potential to distract him. One of those was near the shaking woman in the form of a closed pot.
“I have cure for your burns.” Her voice reached to his ear but couldn’t trespass to his concentration. Saer lifted the lid.
“Don’t do it.” She rushed and pressed the lid before Saer got a look inside, “Not unless you want to infect new ovaries.”
“Ovaries?”
“Her husband thinks new ovaries will give them a boy.”
“You also do transplants?”
“Yes.” She slid a drawer open and took a jar out. She saw Saer’s distorted image through the liquid, “This for stopping your infection.”
She opened a cupboard on the wall, “Antiseptics must be here.” She stood on her toes, pushing some jars aside.
“Will you do surgery on me?”
Eryne stopped looking for the medicine. Her eyes fell on a reddish eyeball in his hand. She stepped forward and held the eye. She flinched. The eye slipped from her hand.
Saer caught it mid air.
“Whose eye is this?” she pointed with her trembling fingers.
“I found this on the way to-”
“Don’t lie. Or I won’t do the surgery.”
“Its Wernh’An’s.”
She thumped the medicine on table then hurried to lock the door. Doctor Eryne removed her mask, exposing her wrinkled face. The woman of seventies had sweat dripping from her nose as well as eyelids.