"Oh, Healer Helene," he began, but Ghia cut him off testily.
"Quit grovelling and get up. Get us some chairs, girl!" she shouted at her wake-up call. "And get me some damned tea!" she added at the girl's retreating back. She turned to the young man. "I'm listening. And it's Ghia, not Helene."
The man got to his feet, looking perplexed. "I asked for the Head Healer," he started uncertainly.
"You've found her. Helene is with the fever; I'm her heir." She managed to keep her voice from betraying her worry, but it pained her. Head Healer. She was now, ready or not. "Now," she continued, accepting tea and chairs from her walking alarm clock, "What can I help you with?" And you better hope it was worth disturbing my sleep over, her look told him.
He swallowed nervously and took his seat, looking like some small, terrified animal. Ghia managed not to roll her eyes.
"Well," he began again, clearing his throat, "I come from the clinic, and we're having a bit of a crisis."
Ghia frowned. "The clinic is fine. I was there myself yesterday. Things have been busy but the emergency has passed."
He was protesting before she was done speaking. "Not the main clinic. There's another one in the slums. The main clinic has been sending its surplus patients to us, and we can't handle it! Three of our healers have died in the past six days, and now our head healer has fallen ill. I'm his heir; I was the only one well enough to come plead for aid. We're getting more patients all the time!" His words tumbled out, tripping over one another to land in a heap at Ghia's stunned feet.
"There's a clinic in the slums?" she asked slowly.
He nodded. "Between the Tracks and Perimeter Road. It's central to that quarter of the city."
"And the main clinic knew about it." He nodded again. "And no one told me about it." He nodded again, slowly. "And the main clinic has offered you no help."
"Refused, actually," he mumbled, and a red haze settled over Ghia's sight.
"Refused you help," she whispered, her voice deadly as nightshade. He nodded again, eyes searching the room for an exit. "And three healers have died," she said, and he nodded one last time, fear gluing him to the spot.
Instantly Ghia fell into action. She burst out of her chair and flew into the hospitalis, tea cup smashing on the floor. She rushed to the healers' barracks and grabbed the alarm bell's rope by the entrance and pulled it till it waked every healer within earshot, and some other castle denizens as well. They came stumbling out, rubbing blearily at their eyes, trying to stand at attention.
"Emergency!" shouted Ghia unnecessarily. The word did get their attention. She started pointing randomly and giving out orders. "Ajax! Get a transport ready from the stables, something for over a hundred healers plus supplies -- and don't let them question you." The boy scampered away. "Giselle! Go and grab all the healers from the medicorps, second and third regiments, plus Chief Medical Officers -- I want them at the stables in five minutes, not a second later. Yeia! Grab all the bedding and supplies we can spare -- there's fresh swiftshock powder; I need all of it packed up." They were all wide awake now. The ones she hadn't sent off stood at attention, waiting for further instructions. She lowered her voice to a normal speaking level and continued her orders. "I'll be taking the medicorps of the Second and Third regiments to the clinic in the slums --" She saw surprise on many faces that there was such a clinic, which eased her mind of any suspicion that her team had hidden anything from her. "Anyone who's had enough rest. If you feel you're rested enough to come along, please volunteer -- we have a medical emergency and help will be appreciated. Otherwise, stay here -- I'm leaving Chief Medical Officer Jules in charge; Jera is his second. You are to obey him without question. If I hear of any counts of insolence...." She let her healer's glare take in everyone. "I shouldn't have to finish that sentence. Dismissed. If you're coming, get your stuff together and move out -- chop chop, come on! Jules, I need a word," she added, beckoning the stunned man over.
"Ghia, are you out of your mind?" he hissed at her when they were out of earshot of the rest of the healers, grabbing her elbow in his hand.
"What, to give aid to the city in time of need? Why, yes, I must be crazy," she retorted fiercely, lacing her tone with vicious sarcasm. How dare he question her! He might be in charge while she was gone but she still outranked him, by Althea.
"Damn it, Ghia, that's not what I meant and you know it!" He ran a hand through his hair in irritation, and it stuck up at odd angles. She suppressed a snort of laughter. "Let someone else go. I know how much rest you've had these past few days. You need your sleep."
Goddess! Impossible Jules strikes again! "And whom would you suggest I send, Chief Medical Officer Jules?"
"Me," he said, spreading his arms in a "that's obvious" gesture.
Ghia scoffed. "With how much rest you've had? I don't think so, Jules," she said, with an air of finishing the matter.
"Regardless, I've slept more than you. You'll kill yourself on this run, Ghia!" His voice was ragged and he had shadows under his eyes. Ghia looked at him, giving him a frank assessment. No. No, I won't, but you might.
"You forget my back-ups," was all she said, and he deflated, realising he couldn't argue with her Magi-powers. Satisfied, Ghia nodded briskly and went on. "I need you to make more doses of swiftshock powder. Do you know how to harvest it?" He rolled his eyes at her. "Don't get snotty. I don't want you getting shocked, you impossible man. I need as many packets made as there are flowers, and I need more planted." She was almost ready to leave; she'd been packing while she spoke. "Oh, and train up some more people in the harvesting and planting. Jera can help you there," she added, closing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She raised her hand in farewell and turned to leave, but he held her fast.
"Ghia. Take care of yourself, okay?" he said, with all the concern of a friend.
She gave him a lighthearted smile she didn't feel. "Don't I always?"
He snorted. "No. And take Suki -- she'll take care of you," he added.
"Fine, Jules," she said, hoping to shut him up so she could go. "And you take care of my hospitalis, you hear?"
He smiled. "I will." She nodded and moved to go, but Jules still had her hand. Slowly she raised her hand to his lips and pressed them against her skin, gently. Their eyes met and they stood, staring at each other intensely, neither able to break the contact. Ghia's throat was dry and her heart flipflopped in her chest; shivers ran up her arm and down her spine.
Oh, no. Have my shields failed me?
Hastily she broke the eye contact and did a quick scan of her body. No, all in working order. Just some fatigue, but that was to be expected.
Jules released her hand and it fell to her side. They stood, silent and a little awkward.
She cleared her throat. "Jules? Get some sleep while I'm gone. That's an order," she added sternly, turning to leave.
He curtsied low, but the movement didn't hide his smile. "Yes, Ma'am."
She rolled her eyes and headed to the doors of the hospitalis. "Healers, move out!" she shouted, last call for volunteers.
The healer from the slums still stood in the anteroom, shock on his pale face.
"You," she said, pointing at him, "Come on. We're leaving; you're leading. I don't know where your clinic is," she said, and maneuvered him to the door and out, heading to the stables.
~
She saw with pleasure that her orders had been carried out. Healers were getting into transports--large carriages reserved for emergencies, with huge dray horses to pull them--in an orderly fashion, and full carriages waited patiently for directions.
She ordered a castle horse for the healer from the slums -- Gaston, his name was -- and Suki for her to be saddled up and made ready. The groom gave her a look that said "You're not Jules," and Ghia snarled at him: "Would you like to find Jules to ask his permission and delay us in time of crisis?" He shook his head fearfully and hurried to do her bidding. She knew he would ask Jules later, anyway -- let him feel stupid then.
Taking another look at the healers assembled, she saw there were fewer than there should be. Frowning, she grabbed Giselle's arm. "There's a regiment missing. Where's Fanchone and his medics?"
"I gave him your orders, but he said he could not go without the leave of his superior officer." The woman looked at her steadily, no fear in her eyes, and Ghia was once again grateful for Giselle's steady-mindedness.
She frowned. "Why would Major Aro not give them leave?" It made no sense.
Giselle shrugged. "I know not. All Chief Medical Officer Fanchone said was that his major was indisposed, and unable to give leave. He sends his apologies, but he dare not go without permission." The expression on her face showed exactly how she felt about Fanchone's stance on obedience versus civic duty. Ghia agreed whole-heartedly, but she had no time to bemoan Fanchone's spinelessness.
"Gah. I need those medics -- I'll go talk to Major Aro myself!" She glanced at the assembled group, waiting to leave. The horses danced impatiently. "Head to the clinic -- Gaston will lead you," she told her friend. "I'll get the second regiment medicorps and catch you up." Giselle nodded briskly and headed to do her job; Ghia tossed her bag onto a carriage top and then sped off through the castle.
Damn Fanchone anyway -- he and Aro were useless without Anala!
~
Ghia stared at the scene before her eyes in disbelief. "Crisis" was the understatement of the year. What she saw before her in the clinic was better described as the end of the world.
Chaos. Wreckage. Disorder. Debris. There was little telling who was a healer and who was a patient, save the small blue karykai on the healers' lapels. Every bed was occupied, some by more than one person. The rest of the sick crowded in corners or lay on the floor. The floor itself was less than clean, being covered in human excretions. Where was the janitorial staff? The few healers who remained to make the rounds were deathly pale, coughing and sneezing into their sleeves and puking into the corners.
Still people crowded the entrance. Still more patients moved in. Half of Atherton had to be here and there were still more coming.
An overwhelming hopelessness descended on Ghia. She felt like crying. How on Althea's green earth was she to do anything here? The situation was past critical. It was past catastrophic. It was past the point of no return.
She wanted to run back to the castle and climb into her mother's bed and bury herself under the blankets, hiding from the world. But I can't do that.
She looked at Gaston, who registered no surprise at the scene before him, only resignation and a brief trace of hope.
Suddenly Ghia felt the anger flood back. The main clinic knew about this. They knew and they had said nothing, done nothing except help escalate the situation. What in Tyvian was wrong with them?
She'd deal with them later. Now she had to fix things here. She held onto that anger and let it fill her with energy. There'd be no sleep for her for a while.
She whirled to face her team and began barking out orders and snapping up shields around them all. She would fix things here. She had to.
She was the only one who could.
Jourd'Muerta, 38th Decima
Ghia sighed and sank down into a chair gratefully.
Five days. She'd been at the clinic for nearly five days. Only now were things starting to calm down.
The floors were clean and clear of bodies. Those in non-critical condition had been sent home with a few doses of medication each; the highly critical ones she could save were here at the clinic. The ones who wouldn't live--again, that impossible choice forced on her--she'd sent to her aunt's tavern, where they could die in peace. The tavern had been closed down for the duration, devoting itself to hospice work. Any others had been sent to the castle for Jules to deal with.
They'd lost another two healers. The clinic was down to Gaston, two lower-ranking ones, and the head healer, still bedridden with the fever. None of Ghia's team had come down sick, but many had collapsed from exhaustion. She'd started sending tired healers to sleep, taking on more shifts herself, until she was on every shift for five days straight. It was a good thing there was a tea supplier just down the road, only too happy to provide caffeine for the clinic -- she supposed it had to do with the fact that she'd saved his six-year-old daughter's life. An unlimited supply of tea was much appreciated.
So, caffeine-driven and sleep-deprived, Ghia had not stopped since she'd arrived. She'd not even sat down until now. The other healers and medics had looked at her with an awe they'd not shown even Helene. Fanchone himself, whose entire corps was on janitorial duty, could not begrudge her a certain admiration.
Ghia snorted in disgust. Fanchone -- he could have asked Major Aro for leave and gotten it, or just come along of his own accord, but instead he'd left the dirty work to Ghia.
She'd stormed down to the barracks to talk some sense into him, but he'd not been persuaded.
"It's as I told Giselle -- I follow orders from Aro and Anala, and without their leave, my hands are tied," he'd said, though Ghia didn't believe his contrite tone for a second.
"Well," she spat at him, grabbing his arm and maneuvering him into the hallway, "let's see what we can do about untying those hands of yours, shall we?"
She stormed down the hall, dragging the protesting Fanchone to Aro's door. She pounded on the wood fiercely. "Aro! I need to speak to you!"
Silence. Then, a soft mumble, unintelligible.
She pounded again, harder. "Aro! Open up this door immediately!"
Silence, again. Then, slowly, the sound of something dragging, then a click of a latch being released. The door swung slowly inward, revealing....
Nothing. It was totally dark inside. Ghia let her eyes adjust and could make out fuzzy lumps -- bed lump, clothing lump, and Major lump, on the floor and reeking of brandy.
"Oh, Goddess," Ghia muttered, moving into the room to get some lights on. No go. She couldn't find a flint and tinder anywhere and using her powers in front of Fanchone seemed a bad idea. Besides, she wasn't even sure she could generate flame.
In exasperation she reached down and grabbed what she hoped was Aro's hair and pulled up. He cried in pain and the smell of brandy intensified, wafting over Ghia's nose.
"What...why..." he started, but she cut him off.
"Sweet Juno, Aro, knock it off! I need your leave for Fanchone. There's a crisis in the city."
He stared at her blankly. "Crisis? Wha?"
She growled in frustration and gave him a shake. "Aro! Wake. Up. I need you to give Fanchone leave. Now. Not later."
He tried to shake his head, but Ghia still gripped his hair. He settled for belching instead. "Why should I listen to you?" he slurred, trying to focus his eyes on her face.
Oh, that did it. She used her other hand and grabbed his collar, pulling him close until he couldn't avoid her gaze. She glared into his eyes with the anger of a thousand mothers. "Because if you don't," she said, in a cold, angry whisper, "I will tell Anala exactly how you have behaved in her absence. And she won't like what I have to say...one. Little. Bit. Do I make myself clear?" She shook him, once, and his eyes cleared of the boozy haze they possessed for a moment.
"Fanchone, you have leave indefinitely," he said, still slurring.
Satisfied, Ghia dropped him to the floor. "I really hope you're sober by the time I return, Aro," she said, grabbing Fanchone and heading out. "For your sake," she added, closing the door behind her.
She'd then had to deal with Fanchone's protestations of how she'd mistreated his commanding officer and how leave granted while under the influence wasn't leave, not really, until she'd stopped him with a well-placed threat.
"Fine, Fanchone, if you're such a cowardly lout that you won't help the city in time of need, then stay here!" He'd stopped gesticulating, pleased she was seeing things his way. She glared then and he shrank away. "But don't think you won't get a formal write-up from me, because you will -- and not only Anala will see it, but Empress and Empreena too. And we both know what tha
t can lead to," she said menacingly, letting the words court martial go unspoken. To judge by the look on his face, he heard them loud and clear. "So stay, if you want. But don't expect to escape the consequences," she finished, and strode off, absolutely done with weak men.
He sputtered and chased after her. "I don't know what you're thinking, Ghia. Head Healer Helene would never threaten a Chief Medical Officer like that!"
"I'm not Helene," was all she said as she continued her steady walk to the stables.
In the end Fanchone had come. He was too much of a coward to bear Anala's displeasure, and a possible end to his career. Ghia had banked on it.
She'd still given him the worst job. It was more than the spineless coward deserved. She felt a twinge of remorse for those medics who served under him, but suppressed it angrily. The job needed to be done, and none of them had demonstrated a willingness to help when Fanchone had balked at leaving his comfy barracks. Let them suffer for their cowardice, and maybe next time they wouldn't be so quick to cross her.
A sudden cramp grabbed her stomach and she doubled over in pain, clutching her arms around her midsection. Dizziness made her vision blurry, and she felt like retching. She closed her eyes and willed the feeling away, letting the spell pass.
It was the latest of several such spells she'd had over the past few days. She had no idea what was causing it. Her shield still held, and she had no other sicknesses. She'd chalked it up to fatigue, for she could see no other cause. Whatever it was, it was irritating. And painful.
Dammit, girl, you need sleep, she told herself, finally willing to listen to reason. The crisis had passed. Her healers would handle the rest.
She waited for the cramping to ease up, and then slowly got to her feet and headed over to the healers' quarters. She signalled Giselle to tell the woman she was heading for a nap.
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