The Wheelwright's Apprentice (10 page)

15

Half an hour later or so, over a private dinner in his suite, the Count told Art, “I had thought to send you here in a month or so to broaden your mind and learn more about one of my businesses. I think now that Denefer has noticed you, it will not be a good idea.” Art looked a bit shocked, but the expression didn’t last as it came to him that any information about his father’s plans for him, however late, was a welcome change. He was on the verge of asking the Count if he had any ideas as to what he might be doing instead, when the Count went on, “The main reason of course was to put you in a situation where you could not openly use the Will. It is a crucial lesson for you to learn, as it is for everyone with the Will.” He made a grand gesture with his arm that encompassed both Arch and Beech.

Beech took the cue and said, “Learning how to fit in and not give anyone the idea that you have the Will is crucial for your survival.”

Arch then chipped in with, “Any Will adept that you don’t know is a threat, as you are a threat to them. We can all expect a very long life, and none of us wants to jeopardize that future.”

The Count finished, “If I can see someone, I can kill them, up to a hundred yards away. With a Will adept, dicing their brain is the best strategy. I once tried mere decapitation but he had enough consciousness left to reattach his head. Knowing you are about to die can give your Will a lot of motivational strength!”

Art had until that moment not given any thought to the fact that the Will was a weapon. As he slowly digested the idea, he realized that it was in fact the strongest weapon he had ever heard about. It then came to him that there must be experts in the use of the Will as fighting tool. He didn’t like the concept much at all.

“You seem to be somewhere else,” Beech put in, waving at him.

Art looked up and said, “Yes I was. I have mostly used the Will for healing, and never really considered that it could also be used to kill people. Healing others is a very rewarding use of the Will. Killing them does not quite have the same appeal.” He turned from Beech to the Count and went on, “I realize that the skills I have learned as a healer are the same skills I would need for killing. Is that why you had me learn healing first?”

“Of course,” replied the Count with a self satisfied smile, “I’m surprised it took you so long to work that out.” He put his hands on the table and said, “It wasn’t the only reason. Healing skills are also very important for knowing and altering your own body, like this interesting face you are modeling.”

“I suppose it was also your idea that I would work so hard that I only had time to work and sleep?”

“No,” the Count came back, “I simply wanted you to learn as fast as possible, and that meant very long hours. You not having time to think was just an added bonus.”

Art pushed back his chair, nodded around the table, and said, “That sounds like my cue to bid you goodnight.” Turning to the Count, he asked, “With your nsaijud tpermission master?” After receiving a short nod, he left for the privacy of his bed and the company of his thoughts.

Two uneventful days later they returned home. On this occasion, they did not go all the way back to the clearing with the wide stone. The moment they were out of sight of the stables, the Count grabbed Art, and they appeared in an empty room in what turned out to be the Count’s home. Art was told to remember the room while Arch grabbed his saddlebag.

Remembering the room was a bit easier than remembering the clearing. This time he felt that he had the time to test whether or not he had done it right, so he went quickly down to the courtyard and found a secluded spot behind a tree. “What motivation do I need to get there?” he asked himself. Riffling through his memories, he recalled Master Simvil about to gut him with a sharp knife. Instantly he was back in the empty room. Another skill learned, though Art admitted that it would be a stretch to say that he had mastered it. Art smiled to himself and strode confidently out and went looking for the Count.

He found the Count talking to Arch in his study. When he saw Art he asked him, “Did you memorize the room?”

Art vanished, and a minute or so later replied, slightly breathlessly, “Yes, master, I did.”

The Count told him, “No need for the theatrics. I would have believed you. I suppose you want to know what you are going to do next.”

Art hid his surprise and quietly said, “Yes, master.”

“I am going to send you back to the Temple for a month. Grammon is going to have a holiday before he loses you. That will give me the time to arrange something suitable.”

Art went back to the Temple, and slipped back easily into his routine. He did not slip back happily, as he continually recalled the fact that while perfecting his healing skills he was also perfecting killing skills. The incidence of people breaking limbs and presenting with tumors did not change appreciably, and emergencies were minimal. Ten days or so, after a quieter day than usual, Art found that he actually had a little bit of free time. He decided to visit The Porcelain Kettle again. He decided to go as Art, as he had been Art all the time he had been back at the Temple, and could not really be bothered to put on Gim’s face.

He walked confidently through the streets, alone for once, and as he did so he realized that he had changed in the previous two weeks. The visit to Hanpo had been a real eye opener. The responsibility he had undertaken, albeit temporarily, of being the only Willed healer at the Temple had also matured him, but the real zinger was that he was being trained to kill.

There was no one he knew in The Porcelain Kettle when he arrived, at least nobody he remembered; in fact there were just a few patrons. He chose to sit at a small corner table and waited to be served. The smell of tea brewing warmed him in anticipation so he drifted in a happy reverie which was soon broken by a gleeful shout.

“Oh, wow! It’s Art the healer! How nice to see you again. I thought that you were never coming back!”

Art looked up, and there was Sammie, the waitress he had healed only a month ago. It seemed much longer. He smiled and said, “I am flattered that you remember me. It was only once, after all.”

Sammie winked at him and said, “It may have only been once but I have never known a first impression like you made!”

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Sammie hurried away with Art’s order and soon came back with his tea. Several minutes later, enough of the other patrons had left and Sammie had time to come to sit with Art. “What have you been doing with yourself?” was the first thing out of her mouth. She had her elbows on the table and she leaned forward towards Art hopefully.

Art was not sure what to say. Should he tell her he had killed someone by setting a really good spell? Perhaps he could tell her he had learned to transport himself? Several other things came to mind and were rejected as quickly. Art thought of himself as a healer. What should he say?

Art settled himself down and started, “I was wandering around the Temple a few days ago and came on a priest who was looking intently into some sort of apparatus. I had never seen anything like it so I asked him about it. He told me that the Count had brought it back from one of his trips. He showed me how it worked. It was fascinating; I could see tiny little things swimming in a speck of water. I really have seen a lot of new things lately.” Sammie thought that Art was going to continue, but he sat back and sipped his tea. He had been blushing.

“You seem to be older and more confident than the last time we met,” Sammie suggested.

Art gave a rueful smile and returned, “The last month has been a time of change, and I feel I am only hanging on by my fingernails.” He pointed towards the little stylized fox on his tunic. “Being apprenticed directly to the Count himself means that I have had to do a lot more than just heal.” He looked back at her and smiled widely, “Healing is the best thing I can do with the Will.”

“I thought you were about to launch into a story for me a minute ago. What made you stop?”

Art started to go red again but managed,”I was about to tell you something I thought was really interesting, but then I realized that all I would be telling you was how clever I thought I was. It didn’t really seem right.”

Sammie leaned over and told Art, “I would really like to hear it anyway. After all, you are clever, aren’t you?”

Art looked around the shop hoping for a reprieve, but it was almost empty. “Stop me if you don’t understand anything,” Art began, “I got to thinking about that funny instrument I mentioned a while ago, so I started looking at other things through it. Since I heal, I often have blood on my clothes and I thought to look at a speck of blood. I found it much more interesting than water. It was really odd to realize that our bodies are full of these tiny things all the time. I showed a different speck of blood to Faran the next day. This time there was a very ugly thing moving around that I hadn’t seen the day before. It didn’t look like it belonged there. As I am a curious guy, I tried to recall whose blood it was, but I couldn’t, as I had seen so many people earlier that day. Instead, I thought about the patients whom I hadn’t been able to cure. There had been a man with a very high fever, who had been spitting up blood, so I took a tiny speck from him to compare. It was the same. All I had been able to do for him was to bring his fever down, but now it was back up and he was almost delirious. I expected him to die.”

Sammie touched his hand across the table and said, “It must be a bad feeling when a patient dies.”

Art looked back and said, “Even with the Will there are a lot of patients who die. At the Temple we see more death than sre n="justif most, as the worst cases are always brought to us. The other side of the coin is that we get a great feeling when we manage to save someone we didn’t think we could cure.”

Sammie gave Art a really big smile to match one that was now on Art’s face and asked him, “Please go on about the man with the fever.”

Art patted her hand back and replied, “Sorry, I got sidetracked.” He took a deep breath and continued, “I wondered if the nasty looking thing in his blood had anything to do with him being sick. There were so many of them in that tiny speck of blood that I couldn’t even guess how many were in his body. He was going to die if I did nothing so I felt I was justified doing something different.” He looked down and admitted, “I really didn’t know what to do, and as I was on my own with the High Priest being away, I had no one to ask.” He looked back up and told her, “This was one of those times I had to grow up and make my own decisions; that may be why I seem older to you now. Of course I did do something or I wouldn’t be telling you this. I tried to cut all the little creatures in the little speck in half using the Will. That killed them. I find it easy to use my Will to heal. The fact that the patient may die is a very strong motivator. I then Willed the same for the creatures in his body, now that I knew what they looked like.”

Sammie gasped and asked, “So he just woke up and was cured?”

“Nothing that dramatic It took an hour for him to stop muttering in his delirium before he fell asleep, and he slept for almost a day afterwards, but he lived!” Sammie could see a huge smile on Art’s face that actually made him look very attractive. He continued, with excitement in his voice, “After that I managed to cure two other people who had the same disease. It really made me feel happy!” He frowned and told her, “I am not a miracle worker. Even with the Will, there are still a lot of people who die in my care. When I save someone who probably would have died it makes it all worthwhile.”

“That was a lovely story!” a voice said from behind him. Art turned around and there were Amia and a couple of her friends. They had been in the shop when Art had cured Sammie’s gash and had given an impromptu anatomy lesson. “It’s good to see you again,” She said, a sentiment echoed by her friends, “I had thought you might not come back here again. You were really ticked off last time.”

Art stood up and faced them. He said, “I am afraid I went overboard then. I had being going through a lot and I sort of lost it. I am sorry for treating you so badly. I wanted to get back at you and that was all I could think of.”

Amia took his hands and replied, “I was at fault too, I kept on badgering you, and I felt bad afterwards. I am glad I have this chance to apologize.” She looked straight into his eyes and said, “I am sorry too.”

Sammie got up and asked them, “What would you like?” Moments later she was getting them tea and some biscuits.

Amia sat beside Art, and asked him, “Will we see more of you now?”

Art replied, “I find that this place helps me relax, but as I am the only Willed healer at the Temple, I never know when I can get some time for myself. My father, the Count...” He stopped and gave a little laugh, “I still think it’s a bit odd that he is my father...anyway he has something else in mind for me to do when High Priest Grammon comes back from his trip, I have no idea what or where yet. He will most likely send me to the Capital. As long as I am in Red City, I will come here when I can.”< sen at /span>

Just then the door opened, and Faran came into the shop. He was completely out of breath and had obviously been running. “Art, we need you at the Temple now! A building has collapsed and a lot of people have been badly injured.” Faran noticed Amia and said, “Sorry to drag him away but we need him.”

Art stood up and addressed the company, “It was good to see you all again, but duty calls.” He then simply vanished.