Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) (28 page)

A young nurse wheeled in a trolley bearing
something covered in a sheet. Mistress Gilda rushed over and took charge,
moving the trolley to the middle of the class where there was an open area.

“I would like you all gathered around here. Boys
to the front please.” She waited for them to gather and settle down. “The girls
have already been studying two months while you were busy with your
eliminations. In this class you will cover a number of aspects of basic medical
treatment. The girls will be fully qualified as physicians and surgeons, but
you will only cover the most essential aspects. We begin with field surgery and
for this it is important that you are able to control yourselves around some of
the things you are likely to see. That means practice. As surgeons, there is
only one way we get to practice, and I think you can guess what that means.”

All eyes dropped to the sheet, feet began to
shuffle back where they bumped into the girls’ toes and had to shuffle forward
again.

“So,” Gilda announced with a smile, “this is the
kind of thing you will need to get used to.”

She flipped the sheet up to reveal the body of a
man who had been dead for some time. Maggots had made significant inroads and
students had worked on parts of his torso and arms, so that what remained was disturbing
in the extreme.

The reactions were varied. Hadley’s easy
confidence fled. Peashot wrinkled his stub nose and scrunched his face till it
was as puckered as a prune. Lorrimer went for the tougher look. He wore a
nonchalant smile, tilted his head back and sank his hands into his pockets.
Then he spun around, doubled over and vomited uncontrollably. Warton laughed with
open derision until the air from the corpse hit him. The laugh turned to a
choke, and before he could recover himself, he joined Lorrimer. Another three
added their sentiments to the floor. None of the boys looked pleased and
several wearing urgent expressions asked if they might be excused. Gilda sent
them all out into the sunlight and the open air where they found quiet corners
to resolve inner turmoils.

Apart from cleaning up the deposits of beef and
lentils, nothing more was accomplished during the class.

“That was the most disgusting lesson I’ve ever
heard of,” said Lorrimer, still spitting, as they crossed the courtyard and
headed back to the marshals’ block and the training hall.

“Maybe it gets better with time,” said Vayle. “The
girls were all used to it.”

“Then these girls are sick. It’s not right.”

“If she puts me on display like that again,” said Aedan,
“I’m walking out.”

“I think we’ll join you if she does,” said Lorrimer.
Peashot and Vayle voiced their agreement.

Dun awaited them in the training hall with a cheerful
smile. If he noticed the shuffling gait or the tinge of green on sagging faces,
he gave it no thought.

“Right lads,” he said brightly, “I hope you have a
good lunch in you because this session will burn it all up.”

They attacked the bags using their knees, shins
and feet. Most of them tried to go easy until Dun lost his temper with “all the
fairying about” and promised them that if he did not see the bags getting their
gizzards crunched he would double the laps on blue.

It was a very quiet group that left the hall and hobbled
back up the steps, wincing at the effort required to skip the traps. After
lifting the ramp, they shuffled into the dinner hall, collected their plates of
chicken, potato and cabbage, and dropped wordlessly onto the benches. Peashot
managed a few mouthfuls, then rested his head on the table while chewing and
fell asleep.

They had hoped to drop straight into bed, but
another surprise awaited them at the dorms. Dun again.

“As part of your training in refinements, you are
going to get into the habit of keeping yourselves clean,” he announced. “There
is soap, a vat of water, and a large pitcher in the little drained cubicle at
the end of each dorm. Three pitchers each – that’s a minimum. Winter is no
exception. You wash yourselves properly. Matron Rosalie has a nose like a shrew
and she’ll let me know if any one of you shirks this duty. Don’t forget the
last class of the day for the illiterate ones.”

A few boys looked like they were about to cry as
they remembered.

“The rest of you are to put in at least an hour of
revision. Books are in your shelves, writing material on your desks. Don’t let
me catch anyone sleeping.”

The words “sorrier than you can imagine” were
dancing in the air, weaving through the stunned silence.

“Well, get to it! I want you as clean as mountain
rain by the time I return, and that won’t be long.”

Hadley was the least put out by this most recent
barrage of surprises. He sat on his bed, leaning against the wall and folded
his hands behind him with a faint smile.

“I’m sure you’ll agree with me,” he said, “that
the time spent with the ladies was the best part of the day. After Aedan showed
his scar they had so much to say. You should have heard all questions about the
fire and … Ouch!” He slapped a hand to his neck. “You little blighter!” He
sprang off his bed and stormed down the room.

To everyone’s surprise, Lorrimer pushed himself up
onto his spidery limbs and stepped in the way.

“What do you think you are doing, Ladderboy? My
quarrel is with Peashot.”

“I … I think it’s with all of us.”

“What! Have you lost your mind?” Hadley looked
around in mocking appeal.

“Think,” said Vayle, leaning back on his chair and
looking out somewhere beyond the ceiling. “Try to hear what you just said, and
imagine how it sounded to Aedan. You might have had a great time today, but if
you can’t see that it was torture for him then you really are a self-absorbed
ass.”

Hadley’s confusion appeared to be restraining him
physically, but slowly the redness passed from his face as realisation worked
its way home.

“You’re right,” he said. “I am an ass. Sorry, Aedan.
I’ll never speak to any of those girls again.” He turned away and trailed off
to the washroom, a spectacle of self-loathing.

By the time Peashot and Lorrimer returned from
their introductory class on letters, Aedan had read the first line on the page
about two hundred times and still couldn’t get the words to surrender their
meaning. The three who had remained in the dorm had agreed to wake anyone who
dropped off. Shoes had accordingly been thrown across the room times beyond
counting.

Dun was happy to see them all awake when the
others returned. He wished them a good night’s rest, promising that they would
need it.

When the silence of night was defiled by Dun’s cheery
rousting, a few strong whispers rose in response. Aedan was convinced he’d only
just fallen asleep. Every muscle ached.

Appetites had not yet stirred, but the boys knew
how valuable that porridge would be. Lorrimer and Peashot kept to their
arrangement and all plates were cleaned.

In the training hall, bandages were made available
to those whose knuckles, elbows or knees were skinless. They revised the
techniques from the previous day, and Dun began to introduce them to sequences.

“Don’t think of this as learning to fight, but
learning to knock a man down as quickly as possible. Your duties will place you
in situations where you will often be outnumbered, so you won’t have the luxury
of softening your opponent and wearing him down. You need to execute these
patterns as though there are men approaching from behind.”

The sequences were direct and brutal, hardly appropriate
for a good old tavern brawl. Dun then gave them an overview of the grappling
and wrestling techniques they would learn, and how to use their feet to defend when
thrown on their backs. “Though you want to avoid going to ground,” he said, “many
evenly matched fights do. I won’t have any of you becoming turtles, helpless
when toppled.”

Dun got them back onto their feet and drilled them
in four different sequences until they could link the movements naturally, then
sentenced them to three laps of the green circuit. Though it was less
exhausting, this circuit required more balance and cool-headedness, especially
on the high rope-traverse and balance bar – a rounded, slightly wobbly beam
that linked two platforms thirty feet above the straw. This one suited Aedan
far better. Though he was slow on the basic obstacles, only he and Hadley made
it across the balance bar on their first attempts.

When he had finished his laps, he re-tied his
bandages and went through to the weapons hall to wait. The two boys that followed
him had caught his attention on the previous day, eyeing him as if hoping to
speak with him alone. They approached now, looking none too friendly. He
recognised one – Malik – the popular boy who had almost caused him to walk out
of the trials once.

“We need to give you a warning,” Malik said
without introduction. Aedan looked up at him, finding him a lot more
intimidating from close. He was tall and athletic, but it was his face that set
him apart. His pale features, made to seem even paler by his dark hair, were as
hard and angled as if he had been constructed from blocks of marble, and little
time had been wasted on smoothing the result. There was all the bite of winter mist
in his pale grey eyes, and an air of high breeding and perfect manners that
only made him more chilling.

Hadley entered the room and strode up to them. At
his approach the two tall boys turned and walked away, leaving Aedan to puzzle
over the strange words.

“What do you know about this Malik?” Aedan asked.

“Giving you trouble?”

“Not sure. Maybe. Said he had a warning for me but
cut it off when you arrived. So? Do you know anything about him?”

“More than he would like. My father knows their
family. Malik’s father is rich, a nice man, but he’s as timid as a mouse. His wife
married him for the money and now controls everything in the home. My dad calls
her the iron queen, says she’s the most powerful woman in Castath and probably
the cruellest too – had three servants whipped so badly last year that two of
them died and nothing happened to her. If Malik wants anything he goes to her,
but he doesn’t like people knowing, so he pretends it’s his father doing things
for him. In my opinion, his mother found a way to push him through the final
selection.” Hadley paused, glancing at Aedan. “Malik is strong in all the wrong
ways – cunning and mean as a rat. The less you have to do with him the better.”

“He’s popular.”

“Only because everyone’s too scared to be on his
bad side. Nobody really likes him. Big old Cayde hangs around him like a
bodyguard – not that Malik needs one – but I think Cayde’s like the rest. Only
thing they like about Malik is that he’s got lots of influence because of his
father’s money.”

“So what you think he wants with me?”

“Let’s go find out,” Hadley said, turning and
striding away.

Hadley, as Aedan was learning, was all confidence
and momentum. He seemed to be incapable of hesitation.

“No, wait!” Aedan rushed up, but Hadley had
already covered most of the ground and drew up in front of Malik.

“You wanted to say something to my friend?” Hadley
asked. “I don’t mind if you want to talk now.”

Malik scowled. “The matter does not concern you,”
he said, almost hissing.

Hadley’s look grew hard. “You’re not trying to
cause trouble are you?”

“Oh, go and shove your nose in someone else’s
face, you insolent oaf.” Malik turned his back and walked off.

“Thought so,” said Hadley with a smile.
“Definitely nothing good.”

The episode bothered Aedan for the next few
classes. He had a dim awareness of being watched through the morning. It was
only during field surgery that he was distracted enough to forget Malik and his
strange words. The boys walked over to the medical wing and entered their
classroom with something akin to dread. Aedan kept his eyes on the floor,
trying not to catch anyone’s attention. Nevertheless, he could feel eyes settling
on his scarred left side and he unconsciously tugged on the hair around the
burn, trying to cover his half ear.

“Pairs, please,” Mistress Gilda trilled.
“Gentlemen, find a lady to help you through this class. No loners.”

With a lot of awkward shuffling and blushing, the
class paired up. Aedan thought that the numbers were uneven and that he had
been left out until he spotted the small dark-skinned, raven-haired girl on the
opposite side of the room. He had learned first-hand that foreigners did not
always receive the warmest welcome in Castath. With her ebony skin proclaiming
what must be Mardrae or Krunish blood, she would have felt her isolation every
day. It was no surprise when she did not approach, but instead kept her eyes
down and stood where she was.

He was struck by the same feeling that had moved
him to adopt a dozen grounded fledglings, an injured fawn, an almost-drowned
rat, and even an abandoned fox cub. The dung beetles, frogs and lizards had
really been abducted.

“Would you like to work with me?” he asked as he
approached.

“Thank you,” she said, and accompanied him to the
remaining table.

“I’m Aedan.”

“I am Lee’runda, but I prefer to be known as Liru.”
She did not look at his scar and made no comment on the previous day’s
humiliation – it didn’t even appear to be in her thoughts – and he made no
comment on her foreign ancestry. If he was not paying attention to her skin,
her large dark eyes and bold, rounded features, he could almost forget that she
was not Thirnish, for her speech had only the slightest whisper of an accent.
There was a deliberate precision to her words, though, a hint of woodenness
that suggested hard study rather than childhood familiarity with the language.

Mistress Gilda explained the process of making a balm
suitable for light cuts, burns and grazes. She pointed to diagrams of the three
most effective leaves – copperlip, frabe and elfweed – and explained briefly
where each of them might be found in various terrains. Then she handed out
ingredients – copperlip leaves, tallow boiled from mutton, flaxseed oil, and
honey. The girls already had some experience with salves and were able to demonstrate
the use of pestle and mortar.

“Don’t just flatten. Crush!” Gilda instructed. “If
the leaves remain uncrushed the potency remains locked inside.”

The mistress made her presence felt at every desk.
When she reached Aedan’s she remarked on her recovering burn victim. She was
not observant enough to notice Aedan’s reddening face. Liru said nothing when
the mistress left, though the fact that she no longer explained what she was
doing suggested she was far more conscious of Aedan’s discomfort than she let
on.

Each pair was then told to apply the salve to a
bandage and to wrap a wound, imaginary or otherwise, on their partner’s arm.
The girls had little need for imagination. Skinless knuckles and elbows
abounded, many of them oozing under sticky sleeves.

“Lee’runda,” the mistress said as she approached.
“Why don’t you wrap the burn wound on Aedan’s head pretending it’s fresh. These
placements are quite a challenge for bandaging.”

“If it is possible,” the quiet girl said, “I would
prefer to work on his elbow. He has hurt it badly.” Liru spoke respectfully,
but there was something in her voice that suggested she was prepared to meet
firmness with the same.

“As you wish.” Gilda whisked away.

“Thank you,” said Aedan.

Liru glanced at him. “You saved me embarrassment earlier
when you did not leave me alone.”

“That doesn’t prove I was being kind or anything –
we were the only two left.”

“You still asked without waiting to be told.”

“You looked alone. I know what that feels like.”

She regarded him now with a direct gaze. “I think
you are kind. I am glad to be working with you. I was very worried.”

“I’m glad to be working with you too. I don’t
think I need to dread this class anym-aaaaahhh!”

The salve stung more than he had expected. Liru
patted his arm, a dark amusement lurking at the corner of her mouth, until his
face relaxed. Then she wrapped the bandage with a level of skill that could not
have been gained in two months.

“Your hands move too fast for someone who just
learned this,” he said.

“My father is a doctor. I assisted him for many
years before I came here.” She glanced around, put a finger to her lips, and
repeated the procedure on the other elbow before any of the other girls had
finished their first bandage. “There, that should feel more comfortable. Change
them in two days. I’ll help you if I get a chance.”

Aedan then attempted to apply a bandage on Liru’s
forearm, and the only good thing about it was that the wound was imaginary. He
had Liru guide him through the wraps and knots again and did a better job on
the second attempt.

“So why is it that we only meet with the twenty of
you and none of the other nurses in your year?”

“You are disappointed?” she asked with a frown.

“No, not at all. I’m just curious. Are you
separate from the rest?”

“We are not permitted to speak of it to anyone.”

Aedan was not put off and persisted, in spite of Dun’s
warning. “We were told that you are being trained as Queen’s envoys, but from
what I can see, it looks like that just means some kind of travelling nurse. Why
so much secrecy around nursing?”

“I thought young marshals were expected to be more
observant than that.”

Aedan looked up. He had been considering her as a
kind of little sister trailing and looking up at him with barely concealed awe.
Suddenly it felt as if he was the one trailing and being smiled down on. What
did she mean by being observant? He thought back over the conversation, the
bandaging, and remembered now that he
had
noticed something incongruent
with the idea of nursing – two of Liru’s knuckles had slight callouses. He was
sure there would be more on her elbows.

“How long did you wear the bandages?” he asked.

“That’s better,” she replied with just a hint of a
smile. “You have restored my confidence in you. But not a word to anyone.
Promise?”

“I promise. I’ll only tell all the boys in my
dorm.” He grinned.

“Not if you want the antidote to the poison I
worked into your salve.”

Aedan laughed, but there was no hint of humour in
her face as she rose and left the class with the other girls. He felt a twinge
of discomfort as he began to wonder if it really had been a joke. Then he began
to wonder exactly what sort of doctor her father had been. The girl certainly
was a riddle herself. He was beginning to suspect that behind her soft voice,
soft dark hair, and soft puppy eyes was a mind as sharp as pike teeth. He redoubled
his resolution to say nothing.

Hadley, due to circumstances, had been unable to
keep his vow of silence and, after being compelled to speak to the first girl,
had abandoned the whole thing and mingled with several after the class.

The second session with Dun introduced them to the
first level of body armour. Pads made of reeds stitched against leather and backed
by straw-filled pouches were strapped to limbs and torso. They provided a fair
degree of protection, though a heavy blow would still lay the recipient flat.
It enabled the young apprentices to work through the moves learned earlier at
greater speed, without having to worry about injuries.

“Faster, Hadley!” Dun yelled. “You have the grace
of a dancer, but that won’t make up for sluggishness. Yes, better. Follow
through, Bede. You must reach past the target or the blow will feel like a
butterfly’s landing. Step closer before you swing. No! Hang it all, no! Not
like you’re floating in water. Step as fast as you can – feet apart and on the
diagonal, weight on toes, then step like you’re getting out of the way of a
falling rock. Yes, that’s it. Hands up, Lorrimer. Once you have engaged, the
deception is over, no use dangling your arms as if you’re deciding whether or
not to fight. You too, Aedan. Protect yourself. No, Cayde, a palm punch is not
a tap. Remember, thrust from the floor through your body and slam your palm
into your opponent like a spear. Vayle, didn’t I warn you that knuckles don’t
last. No, you can repair yourself later. Let’s see you swallow the pain and
improvise. Oh, are you alright there? Hold! No more elbows to the face until
you have helms. Try to restrain yourselves until next week. Alright, carry on …”