Ilika awoke late the following morning clutching his head from the effects of the wine. A small table in the darkest corner of the common room welcomed him.
Sata quickly fetched his fruit juice, a truly welcome sight. After accepting the usual copper piece, she hesitated. “Sir?”
“Yes,
Sata?”
“How many of these would I have to save to make a small gold piece, like the one you might give me?”
Ilika forced his brain to work. “One thousand.”
“One . . . what? ”
“Do you know what a hundred is?”
“Yes! Ten tens.”
“A thousand is ten hundreds.”
With a look of happiness and awe, the girl pranced back to her chores.
Soon Mosa brought his porridge.
“I would like to talk to your husband about some special arrangements,”
Ilika said.
“He is upstairs, but will be down soon.”
As Ilika savored the nutty taste of the porridge, he looked over the common room with a new purpose in mind. It seemed right for the task, with no windows to the street. The little storeroom beside the fireplace might be useful.
He counted the stools — twenty at the two long tables, another sixteen at the four small tables.
The innkeeper sat down across from him.
“I want to rent your common room for an entire day. Is this possible?”
“Well . . . I guess we could serve other guests in their rooms for one day.”
“It will be six days from now. I also want you to serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner for about . . . thirty-five people.”
Doko’s eyes grew large. “We will have to stock extra supplies!”
“And I need curtains put up over the two doorways, and three seats out in the corridor for the guards . . .”
“Guards? Why guards?” Doko asked suspiciously.
“I will be testing thirty young slaves.”
“Um . . . we have never allowed slaves in the common room before.”
“There will be no other guests in the room, I am prepared to pay you well, and the guards will make sure there is no trouble. I will look elsewhere if you prefer.”
The innkeeper’s expression shifted several times. “Well . . . I think . . . it would cost about one great silver for the food . . . and another for the room and the preparations.”
Ilika smiled and nodded. “Also, I would like to look at your largest sleeping room.”
“It’s free now, has eight beds, but we could bring in more .”
The cold, overcast day created a sense of brooding throughout the city.
Ilika entered Cobble Town, spent two hours talking to seven different healers, and was told each time that they would not, under any circumstances, practice on slaves. He headed west across the marketplace.
NEBADOR Book One: The Test 51
As he wandered, he searched for any symbol a healer might use. The sign over a dentist’s office, a wooden tooth with twisted roots, caught his eye. Even as he was passing, a painful moan came from within.
During the next hour, Ilika visited five more healers, but did not hire any of them. In each case, after discussing what should be included in a general health exam, he was not convinced they knew any more about the human body than he did.
Growing more and more frustrated, he was somewhere deep in the southwestern corner of the city when he noticed a young mother step out of an unmarked doorway. She spoke reassuring words to the weak little girl she carried.
“Good woman, is there a healer within?”
She looked him over. “I . . . don’t know if this is the kind of healer you want. The witch who lives here will sit with you all night long while your only child fights with the Fever Demons, tossing magical herbs into hot water, or placing a drop of potion on the child’s tongue, until finally at morning light your little one returns from the gates of Death with sparkling eyes and is ready to eat and drink again. And when you have nothing to give but two potatoes, the witch takes only one and sends you home with the other to make a good meal for your child. I don’t think you are looking for this kind of healer.”
Having poured out her testimony, she bowed slightly and walked down the street, holding her precious little daughter close.
With tears threatening to roll down his cheeks, Ilika spoke to no one but
himself. “Yes, I think I am looking for this kind of healer.” He knocked on the unmarked door.
After a few moments, a man opened the little window.
“I was told there is a healer within, one of great skill.”
The man, still saying nothing, opened the door. Well-muscled and about forty, he wore a long tan robe with a belt of animal fur.
Upon entering, Ilika found himself in a simple, dark room made comfortable with old furniture, pillows, and hanging fabrics. The man gestured for the visitor to sit, then left through a heavy curtain.
The room was like a living being, fully intent on comforting anyone who might linger. A dancing candle drew the attention and the faint aroma of incense relaxed the mind. Symbols woven into the fabrics seemed to speak directly to the heart. Ilika’s eyes grew heavy.
He had no idea how long he rested, but slowly became aware that another person sat near, watching him. He opened his eyes. The black material draped about her slender frame shimmered with subtle streaks of color.
“You are a healer,” Ilika said with certainty.
“You
are
not a nobleman, even though you wear their clothes. You have had experiences far beyond your years. I have rarely seen a man, much less a young man, able to descend into trance as you did. There is something very, very unusual about you. You are far from home, or I am no witch.”
Ilika nodded. “I am looking for some special companions, and have discovered they can only be found among the slaves. The slave master will send me thirty young slaves six days from now, and I will test them in many ways, but I need a skillful healer to examine them. Might you be available for this work?”
She was silent for a moment. “I am Doti. I work with my man, Tibo, who is also a healer. He will examine the boys, I the girls.”
“I like that. They would be more comfortable that way. Can you write?”
She smiled. “Three languages, and all the old symbols.”
“Please, will you both examine me? I will pay you for your time, and be assured of your skills.”
“Come.”
They passed through a much larger room, illuminated by a window in the
west wall, where several tables and many shelves held books, instruments, and jars. Passing through another curtain, they entered a small room with a low examining table.
Ilika undressed, and the man probed his body with sensitive hands. The woman also examined him without touch, feeling for subtle energies only she could detect.
“You broke your left arm many years ago, and it was set by a skillful healer,” Tibo said. “You fear failing at what you must do. You are otherwise very healthy.”
“You keep most of your fear in your shoulders,” Doti said. “You ate something yesterday — meat and wine, I think — that your body didn’t like.
Otherwise, I agree, you are sound.”
Ilika nodded. “I am completely satisfied. Please, will you examine the thirty young slaves six days from now?”
“We
will.”
“What may I pay you for your time today?”
Doti laughed. “Our people seldom have a copper to spare.”
“Here is a small silver for your time, and another for the little girl who had a fever. Will a great gold piece be enough for the thirty examinations, with written notes?”
Doti smiled, and Tibo began to massage Ilika’s tight shoulder muscles.
Deep Learning Notes
What was Ilika looking for that, at first, seemed impossible to find?
A small map shows the extreme southwestern corner of the city where Doti lived.
Why would the young mother, and Doti herself, describe her as a “witch”?
Most of our modern concept of “witch” is derived from two sources: the Christian Inquisition, and Hollywood movie-making. If we peer beneath the
surface of these stereotypes, some historical truth remains. Although they varied greatly from culture to culture, a “witch” was most often someone who attempted to deal with the unseen forces that others in society could not.
During most of our history, illnesses and diseases fit into that category.
“Witches” were, therefore, one of the forerunners of medical doctors.
Doti’s examination technique is based on current practice. The electrical fields of the human body are known, and a few healers can sense them and attempt to interpret what they find, but the medical profession as a whole does not yet accept the process.
