The King's Reckoning
IC time is: evening
IC date is: May
IC year is: 3186 S.A.
LOCATION:
Healing House: Hall
This hall has many windows, all along it's long length. At the fore near the door there is an entryway of sorts. A few chairs there are and a desk near the wall. A wide arch separates this entry from the rest of the hall, and it is high. For the ceiling itseif is high, with lanterns mounted on the walls on all sides, lighting the hall at night, and brightly. On one side of the large room, a door leads to the Infirmary. To the right side a door leads to the offices of the healers and one more door there is, but it is at the far end of the hall. That door leads out to the herb gardens. Indeed as one gets close, a large window looks outs into the gardens.
Contents:
Zimrelen Healess, Door Ward
Obvious exits:
Far Door leads to Healing House: Herb Gardens.
Right Door leads to Healing House: Healers' Offices.
Double Doors leads to Healing House: Garden Porch.
It is evening, and in the foyer of the Healer's Hall Zimrelen the door-ward sits silent at her desk, awaiting whatever this night may bring. Behind her, the corner table is also occupied, by a slender dark-haired figure poring over some manuscript or other - young Gimilphel is at her studies as usual. Through the archway the bobbing light of a single lamp can be seen as one of the healers makes the hourly rounds. There are more beds occupied than usual - a recent outbreak of a sickness amongst the city's poorest has seen to that.
There is the sound of voices outside - the guard's challenging one, and a lower-voiced reply that cannot be resolved into words, followed by a knock. Zimrelen wearily starts to rise to her feet, but she is pre-empted by Gimilphel, no doubt eager for a break in the routine. She turns the key in the lock, pulls open the heavy door, and peers cautiously round it.
The man who stands there is dark-haired, swarthy-skinned; amber eyes gleam in the sliver of light emanating from the doorway. Those eyes are red-rimmed, and there is a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, sign of the effort that the journey to the Healing Houses has cost him. At the sight of Gimilphel, one side of the man's mouth lifts slightly in his version of a smile; the other side is forever twisted and cloven. It is the Hillman labourer Barzag. "I did finish the herbs you gave me," he tells the girl hoarsely, "so I come back as you said. But I do not wish to disturb ..."
Gimilphel shakes her head at that, dark braid bobbing over her shoulder as she does so. "No, you won't disturb - come in." She holds the door wide to let the man enter, gesturing for Barzag to seat himself in one of the chairs. A tiny frown appears on her face then, and she says, "Finished? But I provided you with enough for a whole week. " She peers suspiciously, then states disapprovingly, "You gave them away, didn’t you?"
Barzag lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug, clears his throat, and answers at last, "There were others with more need. I can buy more, maybe …" His voice seems no less rasping than on his previous visit here; if anything, it is worse.
Gimilphel sighs, begins, "But you should not do that. The herbs were for you - every person is different …" and then abandons the protest. Giving the Hillman a measuring look, she asks warily, "So how are you feeling now?" The hoarse voice has not passed unnoticed.
"It is a little better," is Barzag's careful reply, as he lowers himself on to a chair. "It does not hurt so much to take air, and the cough comes less ..." He coughs then, as if to put the lie to his words. Judging by the odd pallor to his skin-tone, he is far from mended - indeed, he looks as if he has not slept for days, or even eaten.
Gimilphel watches, green eyes alight with concern. "I think-" she says thoughtfully, and then halts the words abruptly. "Please wait here," she instructs as she spins and walks through the archway that leads to the infirmary, voice dropping as she speaks to the healer on duty.
Barzag glances round the room, looking as uncomfortable as ever in this place with its dim lighting and odd smells of herbs, not to mention the silent Zimrelen, who does not even raise her head from her papers. He coughs again, pressing one hand tight against his mouth to stifle the sound, then sighs and lets his shoulders slump as he gazes now at the floor.
Gimilphel emerges again, a smile on her face. The pleasure fades, however, as she sees Barzag's despondent posture. She crosses the room quickly and reaches out, oddly hesitant, to tap him on the shoulder. "I've asked Yonithir, and it seems there are beds free," she says quietly. "I think you should stay here - just for a few days, till you're on the mend."
Barzag starts at the touch, but lifts his head to regard the girl gravely. "I do not like to be others burden," is his response. "And there are many who have need of this more than me. Offer your beds to them. I am nothing to anyone."
Gimilphel sighs at Barzag's first words, but perhaps she had been expecting resistance, for even as he continues she opens her mouth to speak. "I know that there are many in need," is her quick answer. "And the healers have already been to Karab Square, treated the people there, brought some of the worst cases here - but we can't house them all." The Hillman's final phrase seems to put her at a loss, for she utters a hesitant, "no," trails off into awkward silence ... and then suddenly her face brightens a little as a thought strikes her. "You are not nothing. We can't house them - but you can work to. You said you were learning stoneworking, I think?" Her glance is questioning, but she dares not pause now that the words are on her lips. "Then you can help to restore the Quarter - I heard only today that funds have been given for rebuilding. But to do that you need to be well. Giving yourself a chance to heal is a way to help others." The green eyes are pleading now in their gaze.
Barzag rubs a hand across his face, tiredness apparent in the very gesture. "I do not know. I have not worked since many days," he rasps in a tone that is weary, uncaring. But he seems mesmerized by the young girl, watching intently every nuance of her speech.
Gimilphel notices the scrutiny, and unbidden her cheeks flush crimson. She looks away, embarrassed, but adds softly, "All the more reason to rest." She leaves it at that, however.
Barzag's amber eyes do not cease their gaze, and for a long moment there is silence. Then he shrugs, and stares down at his own hands, resting on his knees. "Maybe you are right," is his reply. "Maybe there is a purpose that I still live. In these past weeks I did lose hope." The hoarse voice is more ragged now, and the sentence ends in a fit of coughing.
At these words Gimilphel's embarrassment fades, to be replaced by consternation. What can one say to a statement like that? But she makes a gallant effort at reply, saying in as confident a tone as she can muster, "There is always hope." Switching to a safer topic, she says, "Come, now. I will take you to Yonithir so that she can examine you, decide if further medication is needed ... and then you can rest."
Barzag raises his head again, sighs heavily, and says, "I do not like to be poked at as if I were a beast." Lips press together in a thin line for a moment. But he rises slowly to his feet, and then nods. "Will you stay also?"
Gimilphel shakes her head at this one's vagaries. "Not like a beast ... it is necessary to look at the body in order to treat the sickness - and I can assure you the same procedure applies to all." A little dimple appears at the corner of her mouth as she smiles in private amusement. Barzag's last question is answered gravely, however. "No. I serve in the Infirmary on one night per week only. I was just finishing some study." A quick glance back towards the table and the papers spread there.
Barzag follows the girl's glance. "Study? Once I did think to do this ... " His voice fades, and he clears his throat harshly a couple of times before saying with an oddly cynical twist to his lips, "But there is always hope." He looks back to Gimilphel, and manages to pull the right side of his mouth into an approximation to a smile. "To study, to work on one night - what other things must an apprentice do, then?"
Gimilphel takes a few steps towards the infirmary, motioning encouragingly for Barzag to follow. "What else? Well, there's herb lore - I help Khala tend the garden and dry the herbs. Then there's the everyday procedures that all healers must know - diagnosis, medication and the like. And surgery - I learn from watching the other healers ..."
Follow Barzag does, nodding absently at the explanation. The intricacies of healing clearly mean little to him, but something has definitely sparked his interest. "And how many years do you work as apprentice then?" is his next question. "Is it the same for all kinds of work?"
"Five," Gimilphel replies, "I’m halfway through that period now. And other trades? I don’t honestly know." She pauses as she ducks through the archway, then says to the tall figure standing there, "Good evening to you once again, Yonithir. Here is the one I told you about." She gestures to Barzag, then states to both healer and patient, "I must go now. It’s time I was finishing for the night." And as if on cue one slender hand rises to her mouth to smother a yawn.
Barzag inclines his head to the young apprentice. "I wish you a good night," he offers in response. "And I thank you." The right corner of his mouth lifts momentarily in a smile. Then he turns back to the senior healer. "What must I do now?" The look in his amber eyes is one of patient resignation.
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