Mark Anthony - Tower of Doom

A minute later the petty lord was regarding Mika from the opposite bench, an abhorrent expression on his features. "I think you've broken it," he whined pitifully, rubbing his hand.

"No, it is only a bruise, not a break," Mika replied crisply. "However, I would be happy to demonstrate the difference to you, if you'd like."

The nobleman's powdered face blanched even further. Nervously, he breathed more glowing smoke from the snuffbox. Then, taking a cue from the merchant, he pretended to fall asleep so as to retreat from conversation. Mika was not exactly devastated.

Turning away from her traveling companions, she gazed once more out the window. For a moment she caught a reflection of herself in the glass. She was a pretty woman. Her cheekbones were high and slender beneath eyes that were the pale purple of wild larkspur. Despite her beauty, there was a hardness about her-in the firm set of her jaw, in the dark severity of her simple woolen dress, and in the manner in which her thick golden hair was pulled tightly back from her forehead. Mika downplayed her pretti- ness. Skillful hands, not beauty, healed the sick. She had learned that lesson five years earlier when she had watched a man with kindly eyes and a girl with hair as golden as her own being laid in the cold earth. The Crimson Death had stolen into countless homes, rich and poor alike, in II Aluk that winter. Why Geordin and Lia had succumbed and she had survived she would never know. They had left the world, and she lived on. That was all. It was cruel, and lonely, and true.

"I miss you, my loves," she whispered softly, reaching up to grip a gold locket that hung about her throat. If only she had been a doctor then… But it was only after she had lost both husband and child that, ignoring the disapproval of others, she had entered the university in II Aluk and began her studies to become a doctor. It was too late to save Geordin and Lia, but there were many others whom she might yet heal.

The wagon shuddered to a halt, jolting Mika out of her reverie. The coach's door opened, and the ruddy face of the coachman poked through.

"This is your stop, milady. The village of Nartok. The Black Boar is just to your left. You can find lodging there."

"Thank you," she murmured, climbing out of the coach.

Her traveling companions shot her looks of good riddance and hastily pulled the door shut. The coachman had already set her luggage on the muddy street-one modest satchel of personal items and the black leather bag that carried her doctor's tools. He climbed back up to the driver's bench and clucked to the four swaybacked horses. The coach rattled away, leaving her alone.

Mika picked up her bags and drew a deep breath. The village's half-timbered buildings might have looked quaint, except they were grimy with soot and sagged wearily along the sludge-filled open sewer that passed for a thoroughfare. Grim-faced villagers clad in dull gray clothes hurried by without giving her so much as a glance. Nearby, hanging before a dilapidated three-story building, she saw a peeling wooden sign that might have had a piglike shape if she squinted just right. She supposed that was the Black Boar.

"Well," Mika said briskly to herself. "Here I am."

With a sigh, she began picking her way through the muck toward the inn.

That evening, when she asked the proprietor of the Black Boar if she might set up her practice at the inn, he adamantly refused. "I'll not have a crowd of sick peasants filling up my common room and keeping away customers!" he snapped.

Glancing around, Mika imagined there was little chance of that. The dingy common room was empty save for a single old man who hunkered in a corner, nursing the same mug of watered-down ale he had been drinking for hours.

She regarded the innkeeper. Everything about the middle-aged man suggested a miserly nature, from his threadbare clothes to the emaciated frame on which they hung, as on a scarecrow. Mika decided to try a gambit. "As you wish," she said with a sigh. "It truly is a shame, though." She-looked about longingly. "This is such an ideal place."

The innkeeper's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How so?"

"Sometimes patients must wait to see me," Mika explained nonchalantly. "When they do, they often grow so very thirsty and hungry. It would have been nice if they could tarry at an inn, where they might purchase refreshments." She shook her head firmly, as if resigned to his answer. "But no, I'll bother you no more about it. I'll begin searching for-"

With sudden animation, the innkeeper interrupted her. "I'll not hear of it, milady! I've been terribly thoughtless. You must set up your practice here. I insist. You can use the private dining chamber behind the common room." He began leading her away by the elbow. "After all," he fawned, "it's for the good of the village."

She could almost see him counting the stacks of coins in his mind. "Of course," she murmured softly. "For the good of the village."

The next day, neatly lettered notices had appeared around the village, proclaiming that a traveling physician was now in residence at the Black Boar. While this announcement was remarkable enough, curiosity was heightened as rumors spread that this was no ordinary doctor but in fact a lady from the city. No one could imagine why such a lady would want to journey all the way to a provincial barony like Nartok, stranger still, by herself. By midmorning the common room of the Black Boar was crowded with curious villagers, all hoping to steal a look this most unusual character. in the cramped dining chamber, Mika made certain all her things were in order. Her doctor's tools lay neatly arranged on a white cloth. There was a tin cone for listening to heartbeats, a small silver hammer for testing reflexes, and other mysterious objects. She had scrubbed every surface in the room as best she could, wiping away the dust and mold, and she had polished the grime off the lone window to let in as much daylight as possible. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her white apron and opened the door. A sea of eyes filled the common room, staring at her. A small gasp escaped her lips. She had not expected so many to be waiting. She reminded herself that this was just what she had journeyed here for, then stepped forward, donning her best smile.

"I'm glad you all could come," she began, wincing at the faint trembling in her voice. She tried to ignore it, and pressed forward. "My name is Mika. I am the new doctor." Silence. She cleared her throat nervously. "Well then. Who… who is to be first?"

No one moved. The crowd continued to stare at her, as if they expected her to suddenly transform herself into a toad, or vanish in a puff of smoke.

"Come now," she said gently, realizing that most of these people had probably never laid eyes on a doctor before. "Surely there must be someone who needs my care today, someone with an aching joint, or a fever, or the gout. Really, I don't bite."

The crowd parted as an ancient woman shuffled forward. Her back was bent beneath her dark shawl, and her skin looked as tough as leather. She led a child by the hand, a thin QVA of seven от eight years with golden hair and large blue eyes.

Mika sighed with relief. "What can I help you with today?"

" 'Tisn't me, milady," the old woman said in a cracked voice. " 'Tis my grandchild here. She's simple, she is. Her head isn't all there. Do you think you can help her, milady?"

Mika knelt to study the girl's face. The child continued to stare raptly. "Hello," Mika said. "What's your name?"

"Oh, she won't answer you," the old woman said sadly. "Kaila has never spoken a word in her life, I fear."

"Is that so?" A thought occurred to Mika. She stood and walked behind.the girl, then clapped her hands together loudly. The old woman jumped, but the girl did not shift her intense, blank gaze. This was not the first time Mika had seen a situation such as this. She turned to the old woman.