Date: 3-10-164

  Though it is hard to find the time, I try to write in this journal at least once every two days. For the most part, I have succeeded in this, though it has now been six days since my last entry. Both Nadine and Jacque have high expectations of me, and the few free moments I have are now dedicated to absorbing their lessons. This leaves little time to write to you, but know that you are always in my heart.

  (Back home, all of their lessons would have simply been imprinted onto my mind, and then it would just be a matter of practice. I still don’t understand how Panzeans can live this way!)

  Until today, Nadine has not asked me to aid in any actual spellwork. I’ve studied anatomy, learned a variety of Theramancy spells, and observed a handful of physical examinations, but Nadine hasn’t wanted me to perform any practical magic until I have a more thorough foundation. The fact that she allowed me to help her today speaks either to the efficacy of my Theramantic Recall spell, or to her desperation to use me against her competition.

  Jacque has also met with me every day to teach me the mechanics of Panzean language. It seems that much of the contents of our lessons is new to him, as well, and watching realization dawn in his eyes whenever he discovers some novel facet of his own language has added a touch of excitement to our tutoring sessions. It is my hope that, with the aid of these lessons, my language spell will be rigorous enough that I can pass as fluent when we have our audience with the Lord Governor.

  This constant study has kept me confined to the Seaborne Estate for the past week. I even skipped church, much to Olrick’s disappointment. (Though, once again, I sensed that Nadine was pleased to have an excuse to stay home.)

  Before breakfast, Nadine presented me with a uniform and informed me that we would be going to “clinic.” She typically sees patients either in her office at the estate or at their home, but it seems she also volunteers at a medical ward in the neighborhoods of the lower city, where the lower classes live. This is to be my first official experience using healing magic as her apprentice.

  On the one hand, I worry that using our patients as test subjects for my magic somewhat undercuts the altruism of the work. But, on the other, I must admit that I am eager to feel the sensation of Theramantically-attuned aether once more.

  We shared a light breakfast and were soon on our way.

  ***

  I’d never been this distant from the wealthier districts before, and we were far enough inland that we could no longer see the ocean. The houses and buildings were just as colorful as the estates on the hill, and much taller, though they were packed together in tight rows.

  Valhold architecture seems to be, as a rule, composed of solid lines and squared-off angles. As you climb up towards the palace, the landscape around the estates grows more and more lush. It looks almost as if someone had planted stone and metal cubes in a forest, and those cubes had grown up alongside the wilderness, sometimes coexisting with and sometimes encasing the natural world.

  Down here, the stout, cubic structures pressed in, making the world feel small and claustrophobic. But, in spite of this, life spilled out onto the streets—throngs of people going about their days, chatting and flirting and arguing and haggling. In some ways, it felt like the boulevards struggled to contain them, and at any moment the surrounding walls might burst.

  A flight of fancy. No doubt the other neighborhoods were just as overcrowded as this one. As I contemplated this contrast between orderly city planning and the chaos of actual life, we arrived at our destination. The clinic was a squat white building crowned with a large sign featuring two jade-green semicircles surrounding a smaller circle—the symbol of Illithia, the Panzean ancestor who they called “the Mother of Theramancy.”

  Our carriage driver, a sprightly young man with a red face and curious eyes, hopped from his perch and held out a hand to help us down from the passenger’s compartment. Nadine and I stood out from the crowd, she in her brilliant platinum overcoat and me in a golden coat of similar make. Passersby parted for us, most of them wearing simple tunics, trousers, and dresses in more muted tones. (It should be noted that, while their outfits were relatively dull, the clothing of the peasants had a sheen comparable to the finest silks of Guntao.)

  Nadine quickly paid the driver and then led me inside, her head held high. The double doors at the front of the building led to a large waiting area; the rows of seats along the side walls were all filled, and patients stood in clusters here and there. A thick miasma permeated the air, and I had to cover my mouth with my sleeve to stop myself from gagging. (It should also be noted that Panzean fabric does not filter noxious odors very effectively.)

  It didn’t seem to bother Nadine. She led me to a reception desk, behind which sat an older woman with a face the color of bronze with gray-streaked hair that fell in waves. She wore the same style of overcoat as Nadine and I, though hers was a pale blue.

  “Doctor Seaborne,” the woman said, jotting something down with her stylus. She gave me a curious glance. “This your apprentice?”

  “Why Shollin,” I said.

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “Why Shuhl…?”

  “Please call me Why.”

  She gave me a small, unamused frown, and then went back to her writing. Without looking up, she continued: “Doctor Seaborne, Apprentice Why, I have you in room seven today. I’ll give you a minute to settle in before I send you your first patient.”

  Nadine thanked her and led me to a small room down a hallway off the waiting room. It was like Nadine’s office at the estate, but compressed: an examination table, a small desk with chairs, cabinets lining one wall. Nadine took some papers from the small carrying case she’d brought as she discussed our plans with me.

  “The people who come here can’t afford regular care,” she told me. “Clinics like this are the only opportunity they have to see a doctor at all, and often they don’t come in until they’ve developed acute symptoms.”

  I nodded. I nearly told her that it was much the same for the commoners of Guntao, but I managed to stop myself—how easy it would be to spoil everything with a slip-up like that!

  “We also need to get through as many patients as possible. Our responsibility is to balance speed against quality of care.” She lowered her paperwork and looked at me. “Do you think you can handle that?”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Yes, doctor!” I said firmly.

  She laughed lightly, then went back to her papers. “I may ask you to diagnose some of our patients today. Do you feel up to casting any spells on your own?”

  “No, not yet.” I drew out my words so as to sound doubtful, like it was simply a matter of inexperience and not a hard limit of my magic. Eventually I would need to come up with an excuse to explain why I couldn’t initiate any Theramancy spells by myself. “But we can cast it together, no?”

  Her lips pressed together into something like a frown. After a moment’s thought, she replied, “That should be just fine.” She finished organizing things, then straightened up and regarded me. “It’s unusual for an apprentice to do any hands-on work like this after just one week, but, then again, you are an unusual one.”

  “Eccentric,” I corrected.

  She laughed again. “Yes, eccentric. Now come along. I’ll show you how to call our first patient in, and then you’ll be in charge of calling in the next.”

  ***

  “And what brings you to us today?”

  The man sniffed at Nadine’s question, but his eyes remained fixed on me. His face was covered in orange freckles that grew thick and mottled as they climbed up his bulbous forehead to his bald pate. He had disrobed to his smallclothes, and his wiry frame seemed at odds with his rounded belly. “Got a pain in my foot,” he said in a voice like gravel.

  “I see,” Nadine said softly. “Apprentice Why, how would you diagnose this?”

  I crouched down so that I could get a closer look at his feet, which dangled over the side of the examination table. I would not consider myself an expert on the subject of feet, but it seemed to me that this particular pair was well used, poorly cared for, and infrequently washed; for a second time, I had to suppress my gag reflex.

  One of his toes were swollen. “Pain is there?” I asked.

  “Why do I gotta talk to your ‘prentice?” the man grumbled, but he was quickly silenced with a stern look from Nadine. “Er, yeah, that’s the spot.”

  “For how long?”

  He scratched the back of his head. “Four or five days, I reckon. I tried to tough it out, but I gotta stand all day for my job, see, and…”

  “Diet?” I asked, cutting him off. It was perhaps not the greatest bedside manner, but Nadine had emphasized speed.

  “You want me to… Oh, sure.” He grumbled under his breath, his face scrunched up in concentration. “[A lot of?] fish, I [suppose]. Stewed, grilled, salted, you name it.”

  “And many cups of beers?”

  “Yeah, I mean, who doesn’t—”

  I rose and looked to Nadine. “I think, the gout.”

  “It does seem likely.” She looked at the man and asked, “Is this your first [case?]?”

  He shuffled uncomfortably where he sat. “Err, no.”

  “Apprentice Why,” Nadine said, “prepare to aid me with this spell. I will guide it like before.” The man scrunched his face a little, but she continued before he could speak up. “Sir, I’d like you to try [having less?] beer and salty foods, or this will only get worse. But this time, at least, we should be able to get rid of that pain for you. Does that sound all right?”

  “[Hell], the last time you doctors made me take a whole [matrons(???)-damned] week off,” the man said. “Don’t know ‘bout the beer thing, but I appreciate it.”

  ***

  “Next patient, please!”

  The woman behind the front desk was startled the first time she heard me call, but this was our sixth patient of the morning and by now she’d grown accustomed to my voice. She waved over a patient from the waiting area. They came up to where I stood at the entryway to the hall, and I detected an almost apologetic cast to the receptionist’s eyes.

  “You and Doctor Nadine are doing impressive work this morning,” she said with a hint of warmth that hadn’t been there before. “I hope you don’t mind if I give you a more challenging case.”

  The new patient hugged her midsection, though I think it was from embarrassment rather than any pain. She was tall—at least a head taller than me—and wore a thick, padded tunic. She brushed a wisp of yellow hair out of her eyes and mumbled something like an apology.

  “Right this way,” I said, ushering the muscular woman into the examination room.

  Nadine was writing notes on a form at her desk as we entered. She glanced up and let out a little “Oh!” as the woman entered.

  “I know you don’t usually take folks like me,” the woman said to her feet. I closed the door behind her, but she lingered next to it as though she might change her mind and leave. “But I was hoping you might, you know, make an exception…”

  “Of course.” Nadine rose and gestured to the examination table. “Let’s take a look at you.”

  The woman raised both hands, palms out. “I already got a, what’s it, diagnosis. It’s consumption.” She swallowed. “It’s a small thing for you, I guess, but for me it’s a…a death sentence, right?”

  “Have a seat,” Nadine said firmly, pursing her lips. “What have you tried?”

  Not bothering to disrobe, she sat heavily on the examination table, shoulders hunched forward. Her feet nearly touched the floor.

  “Well, I tried one of our doctors first, of course,” she said quietly. Nadine and I had to lean in to hear her. “Nothing they can do about consumption, though. So I saved everything I could for half a year to see a proper Theramancer, but he said he couldn’t help me, neither. Seems I’m as Heartless as they come. His healing spells just bounced right off me.” She shook her head. “He gave me my money back, but said I’d need ten times that to pay for the good Theramancy, like you got up the hill. And even that’s [unlikely to be effective?].”

  She lowered her face, fists clenched on her thighs. A tear splashed the back of her hand.

  “I work [soldiering/as a mercenary?]. Every day, there’s a chance I get careless and it’s all over. But this, there’s nothing I can do. I got a kid at home. How do I tell him I…?”

  “Why.” Nadine’s voice was low and steady. “This won’t be a long procedure, but I will need a lot of aether for this. About twice what we used for Jacque. Can you manage that?”

  I slipped my overcoat off and rolled the sleeves of my tunic up to my elbows. “Yes, doctor!”

  Twenty minutes later, I was slumped over in a nearby chair, ears ringing.

  I wonder if Nadine lacks the experience to judge precisely how much aether is needed when operating at this level. Healing Jacque’s leg took nearly an entire day of sustained effort; by contrast, curing the Heartless woman’s consumption was a relatively quick affair. But, this time, the amount of aether Nadine needed for her spells had approached my utmost limit. I must have looked like one of those shrine priests back home, dancing this way and that, lashing my arms about as if I was possessed.

  To her credit, Nadine pretended not to notice.

  Afterwards, she helped me into the chair and left me to recover. I was vaguely aware of other physicians coming in, pressing metal cones to the Heartless woman’s chest to listen to her breathing, poking and prodding her with the myriad metal instruments of Panzean Theramancy.

  It was quite a lot of commotion, actually. I wish I could have listened in on the conversations, but the effort left me far too fatigued to cast my language spell. Even if I did, I doubt I could have followed a thread of conversation. Suffice it to say, we must have performed some medical marvel, and the act had drawn no small measure of attention from the other attending physicians.

  Nadine called a carriage for me and sent me back to the estate for my midday meal. She asked me to take the afternoon off—that much I could understand, at least—and I did just that.

  It is now evening and she still hasn’t returned. Over dinner, Olrick explained that she’d sent word that she would be late. I decided to take this time to update my journal to you—it is long overdue, as I mentioned at the start of this entry—and to organize my thoughts.

  We did a good thing today. Because of our efforts, a mother will live. At the same time, there is an element of all this that does not sit well with me.

  This arrangement between us absolutely plays to Nadine’s advantage. It’s clear to me by now that there is a significant gap between us in terms of magical prowess, and she is using me as a battery to power spells that she could never manage on her own. But why does this bother me? As Nadine’s star rises, so does mine, and I take one more step towards retrieving your body. Do I think it’s dishonest somehow to use her patients as a way to increase her own prestige? Am I envious that she’s receiving the accolades for my spellwork, even though drawing attention to myself is the last thing I should be doing? Honestly, I don’t understand my own thinking at times like this.

  In any event, such concerns are for the philosophers. I have always considered myself a practical academic and a student of applied magics, and that is where my focus must remain. For now, I shall apply myself to getting a good night’s rest and dreaming of you.