Healers

by Laurence Dahners

  “How far can you feel things?”

  “Further than you, and Daussie can feel farther than I can.”

  “How much farther?”

  “About twice as far.”

  Eva felt a small twinge of jealousy that her talent was weaker than her children’s, yet pride in their strength. “Okay, you’d better head on back to the caravan. Let me know when you get here in the morning?”

  “Sure. Love you.”

  Eva almost felt like he’d shut something off when he turned and moved away. “Love you too…” she said, but he didn’t respond.

  Eva settled down to make an attempt at using her talent to listen.

  Reaching out with her ghost, she found the guard outside her door. For a moment, she was tempted to explore his body for illness. After all, for her entire life, that’s what she’d used her talent for. Stopping herself, instead she sent it outwards. There was the huddled person in the room next door. Most of the other neighboring rooms were empty, but five rooms down a couple was fornicating. They certainly didn’t seem to be making love. She kept focusing in different areas where her ghost reached in hopes of finding someone making conversation so she could try to listen. She did find two people all the way across the street who faced each other like they might be talking. She tried to listen to them without success. Since even the people themselves were faint she thought they were probably just too far away.

  Finally, with some distaste, she focused on the room where the people were having sex. Surely those two would be talking. She tried to grasp the air molecules in that room to sense their vibration like Tarc had said. A moment later, she realized she could hear them, though they weren’t talking, only grunting.

  Appalled, she dropped her ghost and went back to wondering what would happen tomorrow.

  ***

  Though the guards did find her a hunk of stale bread at their shift change, Eva woke very hungry in the morning. She got the guard to take her to the outhouse. When she returned, her ghost found someone leaning against the palace wall. Remembering what Tarc had said she reached up between her shoulder blades to scratch. Tarc’s voice immediately whispered in her ear, “Mom, are you okay?”

  “Uh-huh, just hungry. I can hear with my talent just like you said, but so far I haven’t learned anything of value.” Though she found it amusing, she wasn’t about to tell her son about the first sounds she’d heard with her talent.

  “Good. It might come in handy today when they’re ‘testing’ you. If they whisper amongst themselves, and you listen, maybe you can figure out what their goal is. Hopefully, you’ll know whether you should do your very best to heal because it’ll help you, or whether you should say you can’t do anything.”

  Eva frowned to herself, “I don’t know if I can refuse to heal someone just because it’s not the best thing for me. That’d violate all I’ve ever stood for.”

  She heard Tarc’s sigh. “Still, maybe you’ll be able to modify what you do based on knowing what they want.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Hopefully, they’ll do their testing near enough to the palace wall that I can observe with my ghost and know what’s going on, maybe help out.”

  “Oh! That would be great. What they said yesterday implies they’re going to cut someone and then have me sew them up! I keep telling myself they wouldn’t really do such a horrible thing, but worrying that they actually will. Anyway, if you’re close enough, maybe you can block the nerves of whomever they’re having me treat if they’re in pain. I know they’re looking for someone with an abscess for me to drain. If they find one, it would certainly be a kindness to that person for you to block the nerves before I lance the abscess.”

  “Um…” Tarc said sounding uncomfortable. “What if I don’t know which nerve to block?”

  “Tell me to wait. If I know the nerve, I’ll point to it. If I don’t, I’ll do some mumbo-jumbo while we’re both trying to figure it out by tracing our own nerves.”

  “Okay.”

  It was pretty late that morning before another guard came. He and the guard who’d been waiting outside Eva’s room marched her away across the palace.

  Tarc followed his mother across the palace grounds as best he could with his ghost while walking outside the walls to stay close to her as he could. A sudden conviction came over him that he should have climbed the wall last night, killed her guards, even though Eva’s imprisonment wasn’t their fault, and tried to get her back out over the wall.

  He reminded himself of the ramifications.

  He pictured his family trying to get away in their wagon before the palace roused itself and sent soldiers to search the caravan for them.

  As their wagon surely couldn’t outrun their pursuit, he imagined trying to fight off an entire troop of soldiers sent after them on horseback.

  Alternatively, he imagined his family leaving their wagon and its precious cargo to flee across the countryside on foot. They’d have to pray someone in the Nortons would take care of their wagon for them.

  Despite a feeling of impending doom, Tarc took a deep breath to calm himself and resolved once again to see if they could work their way out of this problem without hurting anyone. Perhaps the king or one of his relatives had an illness and he just wanted to see if Eva was any good before having her treat them?

  Tarc felt like fortune had smiled on them when Eva and the guards stopped in a small courtyard right next to the wall on the west side of the palace grounds. An obese man sat at a small table, apparently eating. Two women attended him and several guards stood nearby. More guards surrounded a few men who were right beside the palace wall.

  Tarc assumed the fat man must be the king. Someone stood talking to him, so Eva and her guards simply waited off to one side of the courtyard. Tarc reached out with his ghost and listened to them for a moment, hoping they were talking about his mother, but they were discussing some kind of building project. Tarc turned his attention on his mother and projected his voice to her ear in a whisper, “I assume the fat guy’s the king?”

  She nodded, but said nothing.

  “They’re discussing something unrelated to you. Fortunately, the high wall just west of you is an outer palace wall, so I’m really close if you need my help.”

  Eva nodded again, presumably choosing not to waste words that weren’t needed, but might bring suspicion.

  After what felt like a long time to Tarc, the other man left and the king barked some orders. Tarc didn’t have his ghost extended to listen, so he didn’t really know what the king said, but the guards holding the prisoners by the wall started moving closer to the king. Tarc sent out his ghost so he could hear what would be said.

  The king said, “Wait, hold them there in the light.” The king got up and walked out to them. After inspecting them for a moment, he said, “That’s gross. How long’s it been that way?”

  One of the guards spoke up. “He fell at the garbage dump a few days ago, Sir King. Some kind of stick punctured his leg there and it’s festered since then.”

  The king waved Eva over. As she approached, Tarc used his ghost to investigate the man’s leg. He found a large, hot swelling on the back of the man’s calf. Sending his ghost inside, he found a large collection of thick fluid, presumably pus. He turned his attention back to his mother and the king so he wouldn’t miss anything they said.

  The king said, “Well, there’s a challenge for you. Treat it.” He folded his arms in front of him to wait.

  Eva turned to her patient, saying, “What happened?”

  The king grunted, “I didn’t tell you to have a chat! Just make him better.”

  Eva turned to eye the king, “I’ll have no idea which treatment to embark on if I don’t know what’s wrong!”

  The king barked a laugh, “Well, aren’t you the sassy one?” He waved a negligent hand, “Go ahead. Talk to him. But don’t waste my time.”

  Eva got the story of the stick puncturing the man’s calf four days earlier. At first it just hu
rt, but then yesterday his calf began to swell and turn red. Overnight the entire leg had begun to swell and he’d started having fevers. Walking over to the palace this morning had been excruciating. Knowing the infection was going to kill him, his only wish was to see his family one last time.

  Eva had the man lie down and then she hunkered down next to him. Tarc assumed she’d sent her ghost in. He sent his back in and realized this time that he could feel something hard in the middle of the abscess. Probably a piece of the stick had broken off inside the man. If it didn’t come out, there was no chance the infection would resolve. With the man about eighteen feet away, Tarc’s ghost couldn’t push very hard. It would probably take more than the couple of ounces he could exert to move the stick out.

  Tarc sent his ghost to gather a few molecules inside Eva’s ear canal and said, “You’ll need to make a pretty big incision for me to push out that stick. It’ll be a lot better if you can get them to move him closer to the wall here.”

  Eva stood up. Using the take charge attitude she always had when dealing with sick patients, she turned to the guards, “Put him on the table over by the wall there,” she said pointing, “I’m going to get my equipment.” She turned and walked to where her materials had been stacked on a small table.

  Tarc assumed the guards had looked questioningly at the king because the king waved dismissively toward the wall and said, “Go ahead, wherever she wants.”

  Tarc sent his ghost over to Eva as she sorted through her cloth wrapped packages with their sterile instruments. “I should block the sciatic nerve, right?”

  Eva nodded and Tarc sent his ghost back to the man with the abscess. He was being helped up onto the table as Eva had directed. Tarc sent his ghost in and found the big nerve in the back of the man’s thigh. He didn’t do anything yet.

  Eva walked across the small courtyard to the man with the abscess, now lying face down on the table. She set down a bottle of moonshine and a bottle of saline, then went back for the knife she used to lance things. It was a knife from the ancients, completely made of stainless steel so she could boil it to sterilize it without it rusting. She kept its edge honed to as high a degree of sharpness as she could possibly achieve.

  Speaking to the patient as calmly and reassuringly as she could, she said, “You’ve got a piece of wood broken off inside your calf. A big collection of pus has formed around it and, just like you think, that infection’ll kill you unless it’s drained.” She put her hand on the back of his thigh over the sciatic nerve and pressed. “I’m going to have to cut the back of your calf open to let the pus and the chunk of wood out. Right now I’m putting pressure on the nerve to that area so it won’t hurt so badly.”

  The man said tremulously, “What’s a nerve?”

  “It’s how you feel pain. Don’t worry about it, but in a few minutes your leg’s going to feel all tingly like it’s asleep. If it’s tingly it won’t hurt as bad when I lance your abscess.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I can feel it. Like happens when I sit the same way for a long time!”

  “Okay. I’m going to wash your leg with some moonshine to kill the germs,” she said, pouring some moonshine on a rag and washing her hands first, then painting moonshine all over the back of his calf.

  “What’re germs?”

  “Tiny animals that cause infection. They’re what’s making your leg so red and hot.”

  “Oh,” the man said. “My leg’s starting to feel really funny.”

  “Good,” Eva said, unwrapping the knife. Carefully touching only the handle, she lifted it then turned to one of the guards, “Lift his leg by the foot so we can put this cloth underneath his calf.”

  The guard stared at the wicked looking knife in Eva’s hand for a moment, then as he stepped towards the table, said, “If you try to stick me with that knife, my partner’s gonna run you through with his sword.” He lifted the man’s leg by the foot as instructed.

  Eva slid the cloth under the patient’s calf and said, “Lay his leg back down.”

  The soldier laid the patient’s leg down. Eva gently poked the patient’s leg near the wound from the stick, “Does that hurt?”

  “Does what hurt?”

  Lining the knife up with the piece of wood in the man’s leg, Eva plunged the knife in and sawed it back out to make a wound several inches long right down to the stick. Pus fountained out of the wound. Having lanced many abscesses in her life, with patients screaming from the pain, she was just as surprised as the wide-eyed soldiers when her patient only moaned a little. He said, “Let me know before you do it, okay?” After a moment’s pause, he continued, “What’s that horrible smell?”

  “Too late for that,” Eva said maneuvering the knife to cut a strand of muscle that looked like it might still block the piece of wood from coming out of his leg. “I already opened your wound. That smell’s the pus that’s coming out.” The pus did stink atrociously; she wanted to step back and take a deep breath. Taking the knife out of the wound she set it down on the clean part of the cloth. “Hold still.”

  Eva stepped back and took a deep breath, noticing the soldiers who’d been guarding her had stepped back several paces. One held his nose; the other bent over and retched. She stepped back to her patient. Picking up the knife, she said, “I need you to turn over on your back.”

  Saying, “You really cut me already?! Oh! My leg’s really asleep!” The man started to turn, then said “I can hardly control my knee!”

  “Just do the best you can,” Eva said.

  The man flopped over the rest of the way then sat up a little to stare down at his leg. “I can hardly tell where my foot is! Is it going to be this way forever?!”

  “No, the feeling will come back in a little bit. Then it’ll hurt. So the longer it feels asleep, the better you’ll like it.” She stepped forward and put her hands on both sides of his calf, “Now I’m going to try to get that piece of wood to fall out of your wound.”

  Eva sent her ghost in and as she’d hoped, the fragment of the stick was wiggling, presumably under Tarc’s influence. She pretended to be doing something herself by pressing back and forth on the man’s calf. A couple of minutes passed but the big splinter didn’t seem to be coming out. She wondered if she was going to have to get one of her instruments and reach in to pull it out.

  Tarc’s voice whispered in her ear, “I can’t seem to push hard enough to get it out.”

  To the patient, Eva said, “OK, turn back on your stomach.”

  “Okay,” the man said clumsily turning back over. “Did you get it out?”

  “Not yet.” Eva went back to her table of supplies and picked up a cloth wrapped package labelled “forceps.”

  She unwrapped the forceps and then washed her hands with moonshine again. “Is your leg still asleep?” she asked her patient.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Eva maneuvered the forceps into the wound. It was difficult even with her ghost telling her where the fragment was and whether her forceps had grasped it. The forceps didn’t want to open wide enough to go around the huge splinter of wood so she had to pull them open. She wondered how someone who didn’t have a ghost to tell them where things were could even do it. They’d probably have to make a much bigger incision so they could actually see.

  Finally she got a good grip on the piece of wood and pulled.

  “There, it’s out,” Eva said as something gave way and the stick came out. She sent her ghost back through the wound, worried some smaller splinters might remain, but she didn’t find any.

  Eva picked up her bottle of sterile saline and poured some of it into the wound. As she had hoped, it began swirling around in the wound under Tarc’s influence. She squeezed the wound to get most of the water out, then poured more in again. It swirled. She did this a couple more times, then said, “Okay, stay still for a minute while I get you a bandage.”

  Eva washed her hands with moonshine again, then went over to the table with her supplies. She picked out a soft sterile cloth to put
on the wound and a long strip to wrap around the man’s calf.

  Turning back to tend to him, Eva stopped.

  The king had stepped up to the table and picked up the piece of wood that had come out of the patient’s leg. He frowned and turned to the guards, “You saw this come out of his leg?”

  One of them nodded.

  Eva said, “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, Sir King. It’s covered with germs.”

  “Germs?”

  “Like I told this man, Sir King, they’re the little animals that cause infection. His leg was full of them. We’ve drained and washed them out, but they’re still all over that stick. You don’t want them all over you!”

  The king frowned doubtfully at her, dropping the stick on the ground. “How do I get rid of them?”

  “Wash your hands, Sir King.”

  The king rolled his eyes, “My mother was always telling me ‘the ancients said to wash my hands!’ She’s dead now and I don’t wash my hands anymore. Know what?” he said smugly, “I haven’t gotten sick.”

  Eva shrugged her shoulders, “Suit yourself, Sir King.”

  The King narrowed his eyes and stared at her for a moment, then stepped back and walked away. Eva noticed he carefully didn’t touch himself with his soiled fingers as he walked back to the table he’d had breakfast at. After he sat down, he carefully picked up his napkin and wiped his fingers clean while speaking to one of his men.

  Eva turned back to her patient. She unwrapped the sterile cloth and placed it against the man’s wound. Telling him to lift his leg in the air so it wouldn’t come up against the disgusting discharge on the cloth covering the table, she wrapped the bandage in place. “Eat as much meat and as many vegetables as you can. Your body needs the protein and vitamins to fight off this infection.

  The man gave her an astonished but hopeless look, “In the prison?! They don’t feed us those kinds of food.”

  While she thought, Eva rolled up the cloth containing the pus and used the end of it to wipe the table. She soaked the wrapper the forceps had come in with moonshine and used it to wipe her hands, then the table. She looked the patient in the eye and said, “Wait here, I’ll see what I can do.”