She made eye contact with the healer on duty. "I'm looking for Bellica Anala," she said quietly, not wanting to search all the beds in the room.
He nodded, as if confirming something to himself. "That'd be her name, then. I'd thought so, but...well, she'd not be lookin' like what I heard tell about Anala." He pointed to a bed in the far corner and walked towards it. Ghia followed quickly as he chattered on. "Came in two days ago. Dinnae know who she was; dinnae know the man with 'er. Terrible wound, and there'd be some traces of strange drug in 'er system. Couldnae do more than what'd already been done, but 'e refused painkillers for 'er," and he pointed to the man sitting by Anala's side, brown hair back in a messy queue, bloodstained clothing adorning a defeated looking body. His eyes remained locked on Anala, his hands poised in a prayerful position. "Said she 'ad ta live, that tha pain would keep 'er from Muerta. Couldnae convince 'im otherwise, and he'd fly into a rage if'n we tried ta give 'er any, sa eventually we gave up. 'e's been at 'er side nonstop. 'asn't slept."
Ghia nodded and thanked the young healer, who disappeared. Slowly, she moved over to the bedside and knelt by Anala.
The bellica looked near death. If Ghia had been an ordinary healer she would have written off Anala as a lost case, doomed to a comfortable death. But I am no ordinary healer, she thought as she examined the bellica's prone body. I will not let Anala die. Even if it kills me, though I doubt it will. Nor do I wish to work myself to death -- Jules would be very mad indeed.
Allowing herself a small smile at the thought of the Chief Medical Officer, she lifted up the bandages on Anala's torso to see the extent of the wound. Through some miracle, the gaping wound in the bellica's side had not caused her to bleed out yet. Is it still a miracle if I know the source of it? Thank you, Rosa.
Not getting an answer and only half-expecting one, she turned to the man at Anala's bedside. He looked to be about Jules' age -- a very tired, overtaxed Jules. Carefully she laid an arm across Anala and touched his hand gently. Bloodshot eyes met hers and he seemed to notice her presence for the first time.
"Who are you?" he croaked.
"Ghia. I'm a friend of Anala's." he nodded and retreated back into himself. "And you?" she prompted, hoping to get him talking.
"Stout-Heart," he said automatically. "Lares Stout-Heart. I'm her paxman," he said as an afterthought.
That's new, she thought, but made no comment. "Well, Lares, can you tell me what made this wound?" Of course, I can read it in your mind -- but the words don't make much sense.
His eyes flickered to his belt, where Ghia saw a strange weapon, and suddenly realised what his jumbled thoughts meant. "Pistol shot. I was too late to stop it." His eyes closed once, briefly, painfully, and when they opened again there was fresh wetness on the orbs. "It's a very effective weapon."
"But you wrapped the wound very well," she said gently. It wasn't a question. The events of the past six days were etched on Lares' soul. Ghia didn't need to be a mind reader to understand what had happened. But it does fill in some useful details.
"Aye. For all the good it will do. They tell me she'll not live; there's naught anyone can do." He stopped as his voice caught in his throat, and when he continued it was in an anguished whisper. "Hope died for her and still...still I fail My Lady."
Lares' pain washed over Ghia and she nearly reeled from it. She wanted to comfort him somehow, to ease his pain, but needed more urgently to ease Anala's pain. Mayhap I can do both at once. "You have not failed, Lares. I'm here to save Anala."
Without waiting for a reply or giving further explanation, Ghia laid her hands on Anala's stomach and dove into the bellica's etheric body. Briefly she saw the empty healing store she'd left the bellica, the remains of her temporary glamour, and what Rosa had added before she was stopped by a strange presence. It appeared to her as a bird of orange flame, but with a beating heart of water in its chest. Before she could wonder how fire and water could blend like that, it spoke in a strange tongue that she nonetheless understood.
"Who dares intrude on my territory?"
"I come to heal. I am a friend," Ghia responded, surprised she could not only understand the language the bird spoke in but could speak it as well.
Grudgingly the bird subsided and Ghia moved onto Anala's injuries. She'd have to talk to Rosa about the bird and the strange sounding language later. Belatedly, she realised the bird must be the bellica's magi-self.
She moved through the wound quickly, repairing vessels and arteries and veins and capillaries so blood could flow again. No major internal organs were damaged, thanks be to Althea, and there seemed to be no remains of pistol shot, though how Ghia knew this, as she had never seen pistol shot before, she could not say. Blood flow restored, she then regrew muscle and sinews, forming a support for those same veins and arteries, and then replaced the skin. Scarring was inevitable -- even my powers are not that great -- but she didn't think Anala would mind overmuch.
Scanning the surrounding areas, she found no other injuries. Now Anala must eat something and work on restoring her strength, she thought as she slowly left Anala's body. A few days of proper nutrition would flush the remains of the drug from her system and restore her former capability. Coming to herself, Ghia lightly touched the bellica's mind, which drifted in nightmares, to let her know it was safe to wake up.
Opening her eyes, she looked into the stunned, terrified face of Lares. "What are you?" he asked in a small voice full of wonder.
Ghia shrugged. What could she say?
"She'd be a healer o' extraordinary power," came a voice rusty with disuse from the bed.
I could have said something like that, I suppose.
Lares looked at Anala in astonishment. "Anala. Alive. You're alive! And awake!"
"'Twould appear so," the bellica replied dryly, and Ghia let out a soft giggle. "Though I'd be a mite confused as to what in Tyvian is goin' on -- last I remember, we'd've been on Voco and you'd've been Exsil Vis's man," she said, frowning at Lares.
Ghia watched Lares swallow the obvious lump in his throat, and sensed that now would be a good time to leave. She rubbed Anala's arm gently and bid a silent farewell. As she walked away, she could hear Lares begin to explain with "Well, it's a long story, but...." and she had to smile. It's always a long story, isn't it?
Mara
Mara woke to a feather-light touch on her forehead.
Her eyelids fluttered open to see a woman with fiery red hair smiling down at her. "I was beginning to fear we'd lose you there. How do you feel?"
Mara knit her brows together and considered her dry mouth, aching head, and lack of any memory following Anala's being brought shipside. "I'd be feeling terrible. Who're ye? Where'd me sister be? Does she live? What happened? Why does me head hurt so?"
The woman laughed gently. "Easy, girl. One at a time. I'm Ghia. I'm a healer and friend of your sister's. Anala is in the upper ward -- she's alive and will be for quite some time. As for you," Ghia continued, smiling and shaking her head in wonderment, "you are a hero, young lady. Your uncle tells me it was you who rang the bell to warn Harbourtown of the attack, and that's why you've been in a coma for two days."
Mara frowned, unable to remember. "Attack? We'd'a been attacked? Who would attack...oh," she finished, as the memories came to the surface. "Tha' makes a mite o sense. Where'd me uncle be?" she said, suddenly consumed with a need to see Merry.
Ghia moved away and Uncle Merry's bushy countenance filled Mara's view. "Merry!" she said as he enveloped her in a hug.
"Mara, me girl! The Hero o' Harbourtown!" he growled affectionately, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
She shook her head. "Anala'd be the Hero o Harbourtown, Uncle."
"Not right now -- ye'd be the one who saved the town from total destruction. The Eorl's only been awake an hour or so and she'd already be saying ye're ta receive a medal o' honour -- just as yer sister 'as." He smiled at her and his eyes twinkled.
Mara smiled back at him as she rested on her bed. "A medal
'd be nice, but all I'd be wanting is Anala ta be okay."
"And that's what she'd be, me girl," Merry said.
Suddenly very tired, Mara closed her eyes. "Good then," she said happily, and then let sleep take her.
Merry
"Should she be sleeping, Healer?" Merry asked the young woman who had saved two of his nieces.
Ghia waved her hand. "It's fine. She won't slip away from us anymore. Courageous girl," she added as she leaned over to adjust Mara's pillows and blankets.
He nodded. "Aye. Mara'd be that. Like 'er sister."
"True." Ghia straightened and smoothed her clothes. "If you'll excuse me. I have other patients," she said, smiling graciously, but Merry didn't hear, as a glinting pendant around the healer's neck caught his eye. He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to take a closer look. "Captain Merry?" she said, looking at him perplexedly and with a bit of apprehension.
He grabbed the pendant and carefully examined both sides. 's as I thought. "Why'd ye be wearing the Exsil Vis crest, girl?" he asked her pointedly. Related to Anala and the rest of them? He narrowed his eyes and took in the healer's countenance. Come to think of it, her face bore a striking resemblance to Charity's -- he'd just not noticed it before, because their hair was so different.
"Excuse me?" Ghia said, taken aback. "You must be mistaken. That can't be the Exsil Vis crest," she said assuredly, but Merry saw a doubt in her eyes.
He released her and stood back. "Nay. It'd be the Exsil Vis crest -- it'd be one I know verra well indeed, and there'd be no mistaking it'd be on yer pendant there."
Ghia shook her head violently. "No. This pendant was on me when I was found on the streets of Atherton by my foster parents. There is no way it can be from the Exsil Vis family. It's impossible."
He shrugged, a roll of one massive shoulder. "Suit yerself, if'n that'd be what ye'd want ta believe. But I'd know fer a fact that a member o' the Exsil Vis family headed east over twenty years ago, when she'd'a been o' childbearing age. And I'd know for a fact she'd'a worn a pendant liken the one ye wear now -- without that other crest on it, o' course."
Ghia's hand floated up to stroke the pendant absentmindedly. "This woman...what was her name?" she said in a whisper, looking rather upset.
"Charity," he said, and saw realisation dawn on Ghia's face. "She'd a been tha sister o' the late Lady Exsil Vis."
Numbly, the healer nodded as her hand dropped from the pendant. "If you'll excuse me, Captain. I have patients," she said again, and quietly turned to go, a frightening blankness in her eyes.
With a sigh, Merry sat down to keep vigil by Mara's bed -- for all that Ghia said Mara was in the clear now, he was not going to leave the girl's side. Maybe it'd be that I made a mistake with that piece o' information, he thought as he watched Ghia's retreating back. The damage was done. He could not take his words back -- he could only make sure Ghia survived the new information.
Ghia
It was well past noon when Ghia was able to take a break. All the patients who had needed moving had been moved, all those whose lives could be salvaged had been saved, and standard healing procedures had been applied to the less serious cases. There was still work to do, of course -- A healer's work is never done -- but she figured she could take a break for an hour or so before being needed again.
Among those she'd ministered to personally had been Eorl Gray, who had sustained several serious injuries in the defense of her province. On a younger woman, standard healing practices probably would have done the job. Eorl Gray was no longer a young woman, and her healing had needed Ghia's special touch. Harbourtown wouldn't stop needing its Eorl just because the battle was over; so Ghia made the woman a priority.
Upon the former bellica's waking, Ghia instantly liked the woman although she was quite intimidating. Her eyes had snapped open the second Ghia had healed her, and when she saw she was in the clinic -- in bed and resting! -- she'd been furious.
"Dammit, why am I in bed? The city needs defending! Timothy! My sword and armor!"
Hurriedly Ghia tried to calm the lady. "Your Ladyship, the battle is over. You defended your city well and all is safe."
Gray narrowed her eyes at Ghia and frowned. "Who are you? How do I know you're not some Vocan trying to trick me?"
Ghia smiled. "If I were the enemy I wouldn't bother healing you, would I? I'm Helene Donacella-Voto's daughter."
Gray's face cleared instantly. "Ah. I've heard of you -- young Ghia, was it?" Ghia nodded, surprised at her renown. "Yes. Saw you at the Midwinter banquet, before you disappeared into the hallway with that young man," Gray continued, winking at Ghia conspiratorially. Ghia felt her face flame in embarrassment, and Gray chuckled. "Nothing to be ashamed of, girl. He's quite attractive, young Jules is. And a good officer, I hear, though no doubt not so good a healer as you are -- the reason you're Head Healer and he's not."
"You mean aside from being my mother's heir?" she asked, a bit more tartly than intended, but she didn't like to hear any ill said of Jules.
Gray let out a bark of laughter. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm wrong. Still, better to have you here now. Emily's absolute shite in a crisis. A good healer as long as things are slow. Tell me, Ghia, did we get the bastards? Are they all dead?" she said, changing the subject so abruptly it took Ghia a moment to realise the Eorl referred to the attacking Vocan force.
"Yes, Your Ladyship. You and your bellicas routed them well. Some were caught for questioning, and await your mercy in the jail. But thanks to your expert leadership, Harbourtown has been saved," and she smiled beatifically at the Eorl. She couldn't help it -- the joy of victory was contagious and prevalent, despite the massive damage caused.
The Eorl snorted. "Flattery will get you nowhere, but I thank you all the same. Now, where is that scoundrel Merry? I need to kill him for bringing trouble to my province."
Hiding her laughter behind her hand, Ghia moved aside for Captain Merry to speak to his superior and turned to attend to her other priority patients. Next had come Mara Tanner and the revelation that had shattered Ghia; following that she'd numbly attended to Dagon the sailor, apparently Anala's Honour Guard, and various other people deemed to be priority according to her intuition or to information from those who were not so close to death. She could not think or feel coherently after what Merry had told her. I suppose I am 'some Vocan', though I doubt I've tried to trick anyone recently. And I was not born on Voco, I know. Small comforts count not much, but it is something.
To discover she was of Exsil Vis blood? She shuddered as disgust gripped her. "Doesn't get much worse than that," she whispered to herself as she stepped outside for some fresh air.
In the daylight the destruction of the town was much more apparent. The regiments might have been busy cleaning and repairing all day but signs of the battle were still all around. Several oceanside buildings had been destroyed or damaged severely, no doubt from the 'cannons' on Vocan ships she'd heard about from patients in the clinic.
Vocan weaponry was terrifying to her. Between personal weapons that could kill with one shot and the arsenal on the boats that could demolish hardy stone and deathtree buildings, there was a lot to fear.
Lares had one of those weapons with him. At least one, she amended, thinking of the vision of the sea battle she'd picked from his distraught mind. Later, after he'd gone to nap, Ghia had watched the past sevenday's events from his perspective more carefully, wanting details of what had happened on Voco and the ship.
She'd gotten more than she'd bargained for.
What a tangled web of relationships! Lares, a Vocan farm boy-turned-courtier, was servant to Hope Exsil Vis, whom he loved, and acting servant to Lord Exsil Vis, whom he despised. Ghia had never met the bastard but how one could not loathe the man was beyond her comprehension. In essence, Lares' role was that of a double agent for a married couple who despised...or maybe loved...but hated...but loved each other. Then, Anala was the eldest daughter of Hope and Lord Exsil Vis, making her Vocan royalty, and Charity
-- ostensibly Ghia's mother, though she had no proof as of yet -- was Hope's sister. Making me Anala's cousin.
Every cloud has a...she thought, and then stopped. Wait. How could she be of Exsil Vis blood if Charity was Hope's sister? Hope married into that family, didn't she? Unless.... Oh Goddess. Do they marry within their own line?
Suddenly gripped with this new horror, Ghia leaned over in the street and retched, throwing up what little breakfast she'd had. Great. Child of the incestuous Exsil Vis line -- though why I'm surprised, I don't know. Nothing Exsil Vis could do should surprise me.
"Ghia! Are you okay?" a hand rested on her back gently, and she straightened to see a worried-looking Aro. She flushed. He must have seen her upchuck her morning meal.
She nodded, ducking her head to hide her blush and any mess that may have remained on her face. "Just tired," she said, surreptitiously wiping her face with the back of her hand. "Sorry I made a mess on your newly-cleaned street."
He shook his head and shrugged. "I'm sure no one will begrudge you that. Will you rest now?"
"No. I only have a short break, and then I'm back on shift." She let out a small sigh -- technically everything was done, but she didn't feel right abandoning her post just yet.
Rest is not abandonment.
It can be -- what if there's a new crisis?
She gestured to the clinic door. "Anala's in the upper ward. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you."
Aro grabbed Ghia's shoulder and squeezed it gratefully. "How bad was it?"
Ghia shrugged one shoulder, loathe to sound a braggart, but wanting to be honest. "It's a good thing I got here when I did," was what she settled on.
Aro cleared his throat, a sudden moisture in his eyes, and got down on one knee, making the oath sign with his hands. "For your service to my bellica, Head Healer Ghia, I pledge myself to you, come war or sickness -- I will follow you and keep you well. Call me and I shall come."
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