The Wheelwright's Apprentice (15 page)

22

Art took to spending any spare time he had at the Temple in the area reserved for women’s problems. He thought that learning a bit more about the conditions that weren’t serious enough for him to see might give him an idea about how to resolve his own difficulty. After a couple of weeks, the staff who worked there were used to him being around. The patients had a different viewpoint.

“What’s a kid his age doing hanging around this wing? Get him away from me,” was a typical reaction.

When it was explained that he was a Willed healer, their reaction became, “Please, what can you tell me about him? He is so young and handsome.”

Others simply called out to him, “Have you got a girlfriend?”

The stock reply that made them smile the most was, “Two, and one is pregnant!” As he always gave it with a broad wink, Art was soon popular and accepted there.

Of course he did have a pregnant girlfriend and that was why he was there, trying to learn what he could. He did learn quite a bit, but none of it was much use to him until he heard a woman moaning loudly, “Please, please, I have always wanted a baby.” She was stifling tears. “Each time something has gone wrong and now you’re telling me that I will lose this one as wehadedmbp:ll.” She dissolved in a pool of tears.

Art went over, snagging her attending healer on the way, and waited for the patient to recover. “Why are you here, young man?” the patient eventually asked.

He put on his best smile and took her hand. “I solve the problems others can’t.” He had developed a reassuring bedside manner during his months as a healer. “Tell me about yourself.” He kept up the smile. He knew that women liked his smile and would listen to him when he showed it.

“I’m just a woman who wants a baby.” She jerked her head towards her healer. “As to why it isn’t working out so well, you’d better ask him.”

The healer offered, “Seringa has had three miscarriages. All of them at around three months. They were deformed. There has been a lot of scarring too. She is unlikely to be able to get pregnant again.”

Art pasted his reassuring smile back. “Do you mind if I take a closer look? I promise you won’t feel a thing.”

“What do you mean by a closer look?”

“I mean a much closer look inside you. That’s the only way to really see the problem. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”

Seringa was reluctant at first but when she realized that this might be the only way she would ever have a baby, she agreed. Most of the healers in the department hardly ever got to see a Willed healer at work, so by the time that a little screen had been erected to stop Seringa seeing what was happening, quite a crowd had gathered inside the hastily hung curtain.

Art started by floating a little globe of light so he could see properly, as the lighting was not as good as where he normally worked. That got a couple of “Oohs” and “Aahs” from the spectators. He took Seringa’s hand, blocked her pain and immediately opened her up. He quickly floated the small cushion of fluids in the air to keep them clean. That got more attention than the light. He minimized the bleeding and had a good look at the baby. It was terribly misshapen, and it needed only a cursory glance for Art to know he could do nothing. He reinstated the fluids and closed her up again, carefully and professionally. He had noted that Seringa had been pregnant for around about the same length of time as Amia.

Art gave her hand another little squeeze and flashed his best smile. “Seringa, give me a moment while I talk to your healer.”

“There is some good news.” he told the healer. “I can remove the scarring easily, and she will be able to get pregnant again - if she wants to. The baby has no chance; even Willed healers can’t fix everything. There is another possibility, it’s an idea I have. There are lots of young girls who are in the opposite position. They have healthy babies they do not want to carry. She seems to desperately want a child. I might be able to perform a little magic that would make two people very happy, and let a baby live. What do you think?”

“That’s an amazing idea, but we had better run it by Anaxis to see what he thinks.”

Art went back to Seringa and said, “I have some good news, but only some. Your baby won’t make it. I can remove the scarring to allow you to get pregnant again. Neither your healer or I would recommend that, as you would most likely have difficulties again.” Seringa was holding back tears by then. “I want to suggest an alternative that might work and might not. It’s a bit in the way of an experiment, so I’ll have to get approval to do it.” He gripped her h grI wand and again found his best smile. “I believe I can replace your baby with a healthy one. It wouldn’t be your blood child, but it would be yours forever. Take some time and think about it.” Now Seringa really was crying, although it might have been tears of hope that were flowing.

“It sounds like something worth trying as we really have nothing to lose.” Anaxis sat down in his chair. “In any case I owe you a big one, so it would be ungrateful of me to stop you having a go.” Anaxis put his feet up on his desk and sipped at his tea. “If we can save a young girl’s baby from simply being lost, we will have done well.”

“I had thought to get the donor from Red City where I was before, so she could be totally anonymous.” Art suggested.

“That would be sensible,” Anaxis agreed, “Now tell me exactly how you had thought to do the procedure?” Art had got his permission!

Art leaned forward hopefully, “By splicing the cords. I expect I will have to examine several cords first to ensure I get all the connections right.”

“Let me know when. I’d like to watch.”

Art left the study with a genuine smile on his face for the first time in ages. Here at last was a solution to the “impossible” request Amia had made. There were still lots of little details to tidy up and things to arrange, only now he felt really optimistic. Amia truly would believe he could work miracles, but only if it worked!

Three days later it was done. Art stepped back from the tables and nodded at Anaxis. “Well done Art! It’s great to see new things done.”

“It is,” Art agreed, “Now we will have to wait and see how it goes.” He knew that there was a long way to go.

The procedure had gone quickly. In fact, for it to succeed, speed had been essential. First Seringa had been opened and then Amia, who was only known as “The Donor”. The two tiny cords were cut almost simultaneously. The healthy baby was attached, hopefully correctly, as Art had spent a lot of time learning how the cords worked. After that it was a relatively simple job of closing Seringa up by stages. Art still made sure that everything was Willed back to the way it was before to avoid complications. Amia, whose cord had been sealed, had to wait for the tiny afterbirth to separate. That took longer than everything else. In good time she had also been closed up. She had had the worst of it.

Three hours later, Art had Amia back in Red City. He had had hardly any time to talk with her, and even when he had, she had felt too lousy to say anything. He had mostly held her hand and smiled at her. “You will feel bad for several days, take it very easy,” he reminded her as the hired carriage neared her parents’ house.

She hugged him weakly. “My miracle worker! I knew you could do it. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

He felt a surge of pride and hope and hugged her back.

He saw her to her parents’ door. “Amia is going to be feeling bad for a few days. It’s nothing I can help with, but there’s nothing to worry about. She’ll be fine soon.” He felt guilty deceiving them as it was their granddaughter he had moved earlier. He was taking advantage of the fact that they knew him as Art, the Willed healer, someone to be trusted. He smiled one last time at Amia and thought, “I wouldn’t change anything. Even if I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have done it differently.”

Art fy" had shad a tense time as Seringa came to see him weekly to check on her progress. She was doing well, and every time she left he breathed easier. The success of his procedure didn’t only make him happy; it made Anaxis happy and proud too. Something new and revolutionary had been done at his Temple and it was going well. He enthusiastically shared the news with the other Temples and gave Art a great deal of credit. It was, Art thought, funny that he was getting praised for something he had done for purely selfish reasons.

The cynic in him saw this as a life lesson. His “reward” for saving Ellary had been that he always had to go with her to carry the market-day shopping home. For doing something just for himself that had bailed him out of a tough situation with Amia, he was being feted. It was the other side of the same coin and reminded him that life was unfair and made little sense.

“Gim, come here,” Master Jangon called at him from across the yard. When Art had ambled over, he went on, “Ellary has been a lot happier since she was healed, and she has been a lot more outgoing. She has even been talking to you and the two of you hardly ever spoke to each other before.” He put down his carving tool on the bench. “Anything happen?”

Ever since “Gim” had saved her life, Master Jangon had taken a shine to him. “She says that I have learned manners,” Art said dryly.

“Har! I would say it’s she who’s learned the manners, wouldn’t you?” He gave Art a nudge. “It’s time for shopping now so off you go and look after her.” His big wide and somewhat odd smile followed Art’s back as he went to clean himself up.

“I have come to enjoy this walk,” Ellary told Art as they stepped out towards the market. “I can talk to you without worrying too much about what I say.”

“It’s much better than the walk back.” He stuck out his tongue.

“How goes the grand experiment?”

“It’s going well, so well that I’m starting to worry. Anaxis wants to try doing it himself, but there are not many women in the same position as Seringa.”

“Will your girl ever get to see her baby?”

“I expect so, but probably from a distance. I know I will. Seringa has asked that I be there for the delivery, and I suspect will also ask me to look out for the baby’s welfare. I’ll be able to tell Amia all about her.”

They reached the market, and it soon became obvious that a lot more gossiping than selling was being done there. It didn’t take long for them to put it all together. They only had to listen to the stallholders they bought from. The country had been invaded by The Argles. They had come through South Pass and nobody had noticed them until High Priestess Aravia had moved a full army of fifty thousand over the border.

“I guess that’s why she took out everyone in Dane’s Hamlet. There was no one left to see the army arrive.”

“We will have to raise an army. Gim, will you have to help?”

He put down his bags. “I expect I will, our army will need healers.”

“Didn’t you tell me that your healer training was also training in how to kill?”

He picked the bags up and strode off towards the next stall. “That too.”

Ellary was quiet until they were about half way back and then she posed, “How will they gow f, bet you to go without letting on that you have the Will.”

“If they want me to go, they’ll think of something. They have centuries of experience in being devious!”

When they got back, Art staggered into the kitchen with his load, and asked Mistress Salia where she wanted everything put. “Don’t worry about that, Gim. There is a man from the Temple talking to my husband. They wanted to see you as soon as you got back.”

“...as I was saying, there is going to be an army raised and they will need all sorts of people to travel with it. Your apprentice Gim is exactly the type of help we need. Not only has he the skills to repair broken wheels, but as a temple volunteer he can be invaluable to the healers as well.” It was Master Hanston speaking, who knew he was both Art and Gim. He broke off as Art and Ellary entered the room. They looked at each other and nodded knowingly. “Gim, I was telling your master that we could use your help. We need all sorts of volunteers to join the war effort. Both you and he will be fairly compensated if you do.”

Art approached him. “I will of course be happy to volunteer, Master Hanston, as long as my master, Master Jangon agrees.” He looked at Jangon.

“What do
you call “fair compensation”?

Art knew that Jangon would agree in the end. He simply couldn’t stop himself haggling. Art nodded to Ellary to follow him outside. “He’ll agree, and since we all know I have to go anyway, I’m sure he’ll do better than he expects. He won’t even bother to question his luck. He’ll think he was a smart negotiator.” Ellary was looking down at her feet, and had a rather morose expression. “There is good news. If I’m only borrowed that means I’ll be coming back!”

“If you come back!” Ellary ran back into the house. leaving Art to ponder his future alone.

23

It came as absolutely no surprise to Art that he was needed “as soon as possible.” He knew this meant, “You have five minutes to tidy up, get what you need and say goodbye, and then you are expected to be at the Temple.” He didn’t need anything. His better clothes were already stored at the Temple anyway, so he quickly put his room in order and came back to pay his respects before he left.

Master Hanston was waiting, and asked him, “Are you ready to go?”

“As soon as I’ve said goodbye.” This meant that he managed to mumble some meant-to-be-reassuring phrases about how he was not going to be doing any fighting and how he would be back in no time and this invasion was not something to be worried about anyway. This concoction was good enough to mollify everyone except Ellary who knew he was lying through his teeth. Watching and listening to the performance he was putting on for everyone else, she could tell that he was very good at it.

This was the only time that she felt any sympathy for Amia. Was someone who was a polished professional liar actually the sort of person you wanted for a boyfriend? The feeling passed swiftly as he cheerily said his last goodbyes and left with Master Hanston. As soon as they were out of sight, Art grabbed him and they reappeared in the Temple.

“Anaxis is waiting for me, right?” Art asked as he opened the door. Hanston nodded.

Anaxis was obviously busy. and wasow f,is i short with Art. “You can get a slightly better change of clothes from your closet.” He emphasized the word “slightly”. “Keep the set you have on, you’re going to need them. Once you have got them, our father, the Count, wants to see you in Red City.”

Five minutes later he was three hundred miles away and waiting outside his father’s study.
“It is happening again,”
he thought.
“As soon as I start to get comfortable my life gets turned upside down. I am used to it but it doesn’t exactly thrill me.”
He absently scratched his ear. The thought that his father had started the war simply to inconvenience him passed fleetingly through his mind. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, he was amused that he had even thought of it.

A few minutes later he was ushered in. “Art, good to see you. I don’t have long so I’ll make this quick. You are going to spend a few days with Arch, going wherever he goes. When he has time he will teach you what he can of the ways the Will can be used in a war. After that you will revert to being a wheelwright’s apprentice, living and traveling with the other craftsmen.”

“Why is that?” Art at last managed to interrupt his father’s monologue.

“That’s to hide you. One of the first things that happens in a war like this is that each side tries to identify the opponent’s Will adepts, as they are the primary targets. That’s one of the reasons for such a big army. For us it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. For them it will be easier. I am sure they have had agents sniffing around for months learning what they can. When we need you, we will send a message that the healers need some help. Now go off to Arch. He’s waiting for you.” It seemed that he had managed to say it all in one breath, dismissing Art at the end.

Art sighed, walked down to the room Arch usually occupied, knocked and walked in without waiting for a reply. Arch was lounging on a couch, apparently waiting for him. Art took the initiative and spoke first. “You can start teaching me either while I am down by the kitchens having something to eat, or you can lounge until I’m finished.”

Art held the door open, and Arch grunted, “I’m hungry too. Let’s go.”

They sat facing each other in a little alcove off one of the kitchens across a pair of piled plates. Art was already digging in. Arch lectured instead. “The magic I have to teach you is very individual, especially the defensive stuff. You have to imagine the sort of ways they might attack you and set up a counter.” He at last took a bite and chewed for a bit. When he could talk without spitting anything out he went on. “Remember that time in Hanpo with the bullet?” Art could only nod, as his mouth was too full. “That sort of thing works, but against another Will wielder you need more as they will most likely have another static spell running to divert anything that comes back at them.”

“So it’s a battle of wits?”

“It’s not just a battle of wits, or even a battle over guessing which are the best defensive spells to carry, but who can carry the most or make them work the best. Often it’s good to invent one or two of your own. That way, they can only react in a general manner.”

Art swallowed. “Let me get this right. I need to have spells set to defend me from things like arrows, swords, daggers, spears and the like. On top of that I have to carry spells to defend myself against Will wielders, and hopefully retaliate against them automatically.”

“You’re getting the idea. There is also a whole class of spells that work to hide you or others in different ways. That’ll be for tomorrow. Now hurry up and finish. I have a bit of time to show you some attacking stuff.”

Ten minutes later they were in a forest somewhere. The place was extremely odd-looking. Many of the trees had few branches, and there were a lot of stumps. It was as if a demented lumberjack had lost it and had been indiscriminately lopping off limbs and cutting trees down, but not at the sensible places for harvesting lumber.

“Come over here, Art. See that tree stump about the height of a tall man?”

“The one that looks like he had his arms cut off?”

“That’s the one. Remember how you cut a patient for surgery? See if you can do a cut all the way through the stump a couple of inches from the top.”

That would be like cutting through a man’s head a tiny bit above the eyes. Art relaxed. Raising the Will for healing was easy; the dread of having a patient die was always sufficient motivation. What sort of motivator could he use for this? It wasn’t as easy as it seemed. First he would have to imagine it was an enemy and then that the enemy wanted to kill him.

His first effort was a flop. Fortunately only he knew it when absolutely nothing happened. He tried again this time imagining one of the helmeted raiders that had destroyed Dane’s Hamlet. Nothing happened again. “Try standing closer!” Arch shouted at him. He halved the distance and imagined how disgusted Arch would be if he stumbled again. A neat two inch slice flew off the top and landed at Arch’s feet. “Trying to learn control, are you? Being clever and trying to take out one opponent with a piece of the other’s skull?” Arch was making fun of him.

Art skimmed another slice to land by the first one. “I have all the control I need.”

Arch ignored it. “Now go back to where you were, and have another go.” So went the next half an hour with Art reshaping the forest from up to about a hundred yards away. It was tiring work. Arch was happy after that so he simply said goodbye and told Art to stay and practice a bit more.

Art found that being alone in the forest was soothing. He had really got quite tired from his pruning and felling, so he decided to take a break. He nonchalantly carved a chair from one of the stumps and sat. This was almost the first time that he had to think about ways for him to use the Will. There must be alternatives to using it as an elongated sword, he mused.

There were a few pebbles at his feet. He picked one up and wondered, “What would happen if I tried to place this directly in someone’s head?” The nearest equivalent was a stump about twenty yards away. He picked his spot, imagining it was just behind an enemy’s eye, and exerted his Will. Nothing happened. He needed more motivation. Holding the stone in his hand he imagined that the stump was wearing an elaborately horned and painted helmet and was about to rape and murder Amia. The stump exploded in spectacular fashion throwing splinters everywhere, including one which buried itself in his calf. He looked down ruefully at it and then back at what was left of the stump. Either his imagery was very powerful or the technique was more useful than he had imagined.

He pulled out the splinter and absently healed himself.

“That was impressive!” A girl strode out of the forest. She was wearing comfortable clothes in forest greens and browns, with a pains,e forer of good leather boots. She was carrying a small backpack and a water skin. She was breathtakingly beautiful. “Practicing our Will, I see.”

There was a very loud “crack” from behind him, which he recognized as the sound of a bullet. Art didn’t look back but exerted his will to cut off the blood flow to the brain of the girl in front of him. As a nonlethal measure it worked wonderfully. The girl folded up like a rag doll and fell down, unconscious. Now he could look behind him. There on the ground was a slightly older woman with a neat hole in the middle of her forehead. A couple of feet away from her hands was a gun. Art picked it up and pocketed it. Leaving the dead woman where she was, he hefted the girl and vanished back to Red City.

“Arch and Beech will look after her when she wakes up,” his father told him after the limp girl had been taken away. “They are very good at that sort of thing. Even if she has the Will, they can get what we need from her. There are some interesting drugs we can use. What exactly happened?” His father asked.

“It was much too obvious, wasn’t it? Here was this girl, this gorgeous girl, right out in the middle of nowhere, in a place you can only sensibly reach using the Will. She couldn’t be alone and she was totally distracting. I just banged up as many defenses as I could think of, and they shot a gun at me. I guess that they thought that I would never have seen a gun, being so young and there being no guns here. That made an attack with a gun the best option for them. It should have been virtually guaranteed to work. Happily it didn’t.” His father nodded and Art continued, “I imagine the girl was the Will adept as the shooter couldn’t divert the returning bullet.”

Art leaned back in his chair and looked directly at his father. “I remembered the point you so forcefully made that healing skills are also killing skills, so I spent quite a bit if time thinking of ways to merely knock someone out fast. You know I don’t like killing.” Art caught his father looking at him rather oddly. “What do you expect?” Art answered the look. “You’re the one who made me learn healing and therefore regard for life!” He glared back at his father. “I simply squeezed the arteries into her brain closed. It worked like a charm. I felt you might want to question her.”

His father, the Count, said nothing for a time, mulling over what his son had said. Eventually he exhaled loudly. “You were lucky. If it hadn’t worked you’d be dead. Being lucky is important but it’s best not to rely on it. Remember that. Now go on, have some fun with that pretty girl of yours. You may not have another chance for a while.”

“How did you know I have a girl here in Red City?”

“I know everything. I have been watching you very closely ever since you came to me. You are my son, after all.”

“You have lots of other children.”

“True, but you are much more interesting than the others right now.”

After Art left, Arch and Beech came in from the next room. They had been listening. “What do you think?” the Count asked. “He is sharp, lucky, a very quick thinker and his Will is well controlled.”

“He gets high praise from both Grammon and Anaxis. They see him as both caring and dedicated to healing. He has been innovative and has done exceptionally.” This coming from Beech as he crossed over to a comfortable chair and flopped down.

Arch added, “He is starting to show signs of wanting to take the lead rathethertar than being led.”

“Then it’s all going according to plan, isn’t it?”

“Do you think he could be up to it?” Arch posed to the Count.

“If he lives long enough, he just might.”