Halls Of Healing

Chapter 1:The Halls of Healing When you are born in a ghetto, everywhere is a better place. His sister had said she wanted to help people, so Jims had stopped running with the packs. Since his Da had disappeared, Jims thought most likely dead, long ago from too much drugs or liquor, he had been Steph’s protector. Jims was big and that helped. First, Jims stole. He was thirteen and taking care of a nine year old. He learned the word cliché years after his father’s disappearance. However since that part of his life’s story was similar to a great deal of others he knew in the ghetto, the reality of his clichéd existence was a very bad itch that no amount of scratching ever alleviated. The Peacers had to rough him up twice when he took to the streets, but they also gave him loose coin when they turfed him, cold meat pies and fruits, and one old ratty coat. He hadn’t forgotten the itch that left him with also. The Packs knew his face too, by then. Can’t be picked up by the Peacers and hope to go unnoticed. They notched him down a couple pegs for liberating from one of them respectables they had been protecting. Then they boxed him and button holed him into being a forcer for them. That coin let Steph and he stay in their one room on the fourth floor of a walk-up, with roaches and rats as their cohabitating tenants.

‘Help people. Like people should be helped,’ he thought. Steph was certainly the kind one of the two. Now she apprenticed to the Healers at St. Copernia’s Hospital. The biggest of New Roehm’s Hospitals. Jims had taken a job as orderly so he could watch over her. He still moonlighted a few times a month for Che and the pack. The Laundry Boys, were a mix of men, women, boys and girls that ran a six block portion of the rougher part of the ghetto centered where the women came to wash their clothes. St. Copernia’s was the closest of the New Roehm’s Hospitals to it, also the first, but very few who lived in the territory of the Laundry Boys would ever think to venture to a hospital. “Jims.” His supervisor was swarthy. But the man had his letters and numbers. The supe’s father had been a bricklayer, even worked on St. Copernia’s. Jims had last been in school when he was 10. “Room 301. Take the patient to the imagers.” 301, a room for an elite, or a Blood. Jims saw that only Wentil was the other orderly. Jims was never allowed near an elite or Blood. Wentil’s stutter and club foot would be too embarrassing for St. Copernia’s. “Chair or Roca?” He said as he stood up. He was a full hand higher than any other orderly, and much wider in the shoulders. The Peacer Sergeant, MacClay, was always after having him to enlist, or even go for a soldier.

Gutrie glanced at the paper, “Roca.” Jims’s first day, Gutrie told him wrong. When Jims had figured it out, he and Gutrie had come to an understanding. Gutrie’s black eye had healed after a week. Jims would be much quicker on the ramps with a chair instead of the wheeled cart. The rocas also were hard on the patients as they felt every bump in the stone floors. Imagers were in the basement. Had to do with the energies put out by the giant crystals that they squeezed the patients between. It was a magic that men were beginning to do, that made it novel. Jims knew that Steph was on comfort duty right by Second floor ramp. As he wheeled the empty chair up to the landing he looked to see her. No luck as he turned on the straight ignoring Maggs who wheeled a patient. Each shift at the hospital had six orderlies work four days, for half a day, and every other five day week, work all five days. Not much of a life. “Jims.” His arm was caught. “Steph,” he said as he turned, Looking at her, white starched uniform, purple hat to tie back her long black hair, you would not know that they had lived in the ghetto for almost their entire lives. Now they had a one bedroom. Steph in the bedroom, in Cheapton. It was next to the Ghetto, but it was not in the Slum. The streets were dirty, but they were paved and only the dogs left their filth spread about.

“Nurse Julia is letting me go early to study. I’m going to stop at the Library.” Jims meager income had paid the priests at St. Contantines to teach her. His size and fists to ensure she was not molested. “Who is going with you?” “Jims, I’m 19. I’ll be fine.” Her mouth was quirked, so he knew she was teasing him. “Steph?” His face showed her no emotion. He had intimidated too many people too long to soften that trait yet. “Very well, Rafe is probably outside…” “Yes, Ratter is outside. He will walk you to the library and then home.” Rat was fourteen, a child of the ghetto like them. No Family. Jims gave the boy some coin, cast off clothes, and let him sleep in the alcove they used to prepare food. Jims continued to the third floor after saying his goodbyes. There was a armsman in livery at the entrance to the elite rooms, and two more standing in front of the room. One had similar livery but clearly was another house. Jims knew some of the uniforms that various houses wore on sight. King’s livery was pretty well identifiable. As was any army uniform, or those of the Peacers. He heard that Peacers in other cities had different livery, just as the great houses had different livery. Solid stripe at the hem of each tunic followed by three rings meant that both men served dukes, or duchesses.

Jims had never met an elite higher than a baron, and that once when the fool had stumbled his drunken way into the ghetto looking for excitement. Jims had to throw the arrogant puppy back out to the quality side of New Roehm else someone would no doubt have given the man a few new breath holes. Jims had lifted the fools purse lighter by five heavy coins, but that was more than fair for the baron to keep his life. “Wait there, orderly.” The guard was almost as tall as Jims, and almost as wide. He had a brigantine armor under the tunic, leather cut and overlapped in countless shells. A mustache and beard, and a small ruby earring to proclaim some sort of rank or award of merit from his right ear. His tunic had a badge of a Lion chasing a Dragon in its right quadrant, and there diagonally divided was a background of pale blue. The other man also had a Dragon, but just a Dragon in his right quadrant, no earring, and also the diagonal was pale blue. The lower two thirds of the first was black, and the second man was red. The second man had golden rings at his hem, the first, the pale blue was repeated. The second man was much shorter than the first, but looked just as dangerous. Each had short swords and Jims could see three daggers. He expected there were more. In the orderly room, he had a few of his own set by. On his person, he had but one, for the hospital frowned on any weapon being carried around the walks by staff.

“You look like you should be in service,” The guard that was still outside the room spoke to him. “No grease.” The guard laughed. Private service required connections and often bribes paid to the various officers who wanted to be bribed so that they would take you. “Army will take you with or without.” Jims knew this, but he had to stay close to Steph. “Peacers might too.” “Not the Peacers, not ghetto-kin.” The guard nodded. The Peacers would take Jims, though, for he was the type that they would rather have working for them, rather than one they had to protect citizens against. The first armsman opened the door to the suite, and stepped forward. An elderly lady was behind him. The first one stood to hinder Jims should his intent be other than peaceful and the second nodded and made to march away. “Till DAYNAME NOT THIRD DAY sister,” the lady coming out said. A voice from within farewelled. “Thank you Hans,” She was tall, for a woman who must have reached her seventh decade or more. Her hair still lustrous black must have come from the fruit dyes that such women used, and the face paint made her look vibrant, though Jims did not look for more than fractions. Her face was long and thin, with a high brow, the nose angular, and a little overlarge. He must not look on such a highborn

unless invited. “Your grace,” the first armsman said and brought his feet together in attentive respect. Jims suspected if they were not in a hospital, those feet might have crashed together. “Walts, hold now. You, orderly,” She addressed him, and so Jims looked up from his gaze that had locked on the feet of the armiger Hans. “My sister is sick, you shall take most care with her?” “Yes, ma’am.” Jims said quickly nodding. He noted that her gown had the colors of gold and red, and pale predominate, with a sash that had the same golden rings on a red field, with the sole dragon upon it. “Your Grace,” Walts hissed from where he stood. “No, that is fine Walts. Yes, take care of my sister. We do not have much family left us now. You seem…” She paused and then shook her head. “Never mind,” she reached and patted Jims with a hand, then brought forth a coin and motioned to Jims to take it. “Your Grace,” Walts nodded as Jims spoke, “we are not to take tips.” “It is not a tip, and none shall say so. It is a present.” At that Jims smiled and held open his hand. It was full gold, the heaviest of heavy coin. He had seen such often enough, but that was 200 coppers. A few years before Jims was lucky to have one copper each third day for he and Steph to live. Now he earned 20 each five day, so ten five days

pay all at once. The high lady nodded and strode away, Walts quickly pushing forward. “Right, you now, lets go.” Hans said to him. His patient was not in a hospital gown, the yellow sleevless tunic that Healers insisted that all the patients wear. This old lady was in silk. He had seen pictures, for that was all you had in the low dives that the ghetto and its border neighborhoods boasted, of lounge wear. She had it. Black with the pale blue coloring in swirls of color throughout her over gown. Jims had bought an overgown for Steph two years before, he had bought it large and used, and she had grown into it fine. But already it had wear holes. Jims and Ratter used old blankets and extra layers when the chill was strong. It reminded him that Ratter needed new shoes again and that gold he had gotten was going to do well to help them there. “He has steel Hans, you are slipping.” Hans whirled after the old woman spoke and Jims saw the menace upon the armsmans face. He backed a quick step and held up his hand, palms forward. “Peace, friend” Jims said. “Top of my right boot, in case of things getting exciting, you know.” “Give it me.” Hans said, “Give it slow.” Hans right hand gripped the handle of his sword. His left had a dagger of his own drawn and pointed at Jims speak hole.

The lady waved her hand and muttered. “He means no harm. He is familiar.” She nodded then shook her head. She muttered again and then moved towards the two men brushing Hans aside, who hesitated before he moved. “What is your name, young man.” She seemed familiar also, though he could not say way. He had never met a woman rich enough to have armsmen. “Jims, your grace.” “Well, he knows manners.” He could see more now, and as she spoke to him, he could look upon her. She had the same face and body of the other old woman. The hair was cut different, and this one had gray all through, not vain enough to use dye. Under the over gown there was more of the silken lounge wear. Jims could only imagine the cost of getting the material. Only fine shops in the Uptown High Street would have such. He doubted the gold in his pocket could buy such garments. He saw the Dragon and Lion now, clear on the collars of both over gown, and lounge tunic. “Tell me what you wish to do. I have had student healers tasting my blood, and tapping my chest all morning.” She gripped her stomach and started to cough. It was long and both Jims and Hans reached out to steady her. She was closer to Jims and grabbed his forearm for that support. “I do know you. I must.” She said but shook her head after the spasm had passed. Jims remembered she had asked him a question.

“My lady, would you lie on the Roca?” At her look of confusion, “Er the rolling cart. I need to take you to the basement for the imagers.” “Ah yes, they want to look inside me. I can walk.” But then another spasm of coughing and this time she gripped Hans tightly. She clearly could not walk for more than a few feet. Jims knew after his time as an orderly how some patients fought what their healers told them, and some did not listen and waited to die no matter how hard the healers tried to save them. The lady was a fighter. “Did your healer say you should be lying down, your grace. With that cough, it sure sounds like you have a storm a brewing in your chest.” She chuckled, “Yes Jims, they told me to lie down. The damn Healer doesn’t know anything though. I was casting wound bindings when I was half her age. Women’s younger than my daughter, younger then my granddaughters.” She looked wistful, then shook her head. Jims knew that some of the women who could do fast healing magic, could never do the great healings, so he knew that the old lady might not have the same skills as the healers at the hospital. He also knew a difficult patient, and how to talk to them. “That as may be, your grace, but I’ll be in trouble if you don’t lie down here on the Roca. Its a long trip to the imagers, and if I get in trouble again, I’ll be out in the food lines, I will. It would be a great favor to me personally if you were

to lie down.” The elite giving favor to the peasantry was something that stories said they always did. He doubted it, for he figured they would rather take then give, else why would there be a ghetto. She nodded, “Perhaps you are right. I would not want you to be troubled from my actions.” The two men helped her to lie on the cart, and when they exited the suite, the other guard who had stood in front joined their little procession. Jims was forced to proceed slowly and he saw that his patient used the respite of lying down to rest her eyes. Her mouth, she still used. “Tell me of yourself, Jims the orderly. I may have pains in my body, but my mind works wondrous well.” Jims thought to say too well, as they approached the ramp to the second level. Jims saw two more armsmen that he had not seen before. Easily as dangerous looking as the first two, and they also joined the ladies coterie. Since he had grown up with tough men, he was not intimidated by any one of them, two though would give him trouble, four and he was assured that in a fight he would not be upstanding at its end. “Your grace not be wanting much of me. I’m just your simple orderly.” She chuckled but stopped herself short so as not to have another spasm of the coughs. “That I doubt. A simple orderly here would not be carrying a dagger in their boot, which you still have not given to Hans.”

That one turned to look back at Jims with a glare that said they had business over it. “If your grace would like, I can be doing so. Don’t think he needs more iron, no ma’am. He looks like he has enough.” She smiled which Jims found humorous. Here he be looking all a kilter at the patients as he wheeled them on the roca. They only found a person looking this odd way but once this short time. “No I expect you are right, Hans is quite well trained. His grandfathers, grandfather commanded my mothers armigers when I was a child, now he commands mine.” “I expect the lady is important.” He knew she was an elite, and one only called the highest ‘grace.’ That was King or Queen, and he had seen pictures and knew she wasn’t no queen, sides there would have been more armsmen and they’d be royal soldiers too. Princess old enough to be an aunt, or great aunt of the King, again not in any picture of the royals and the armsmen still weren’t royal soldiers. A Duchess, or one of the Senior High Priests, of which the country had four, all men. So she was one of the Duchesses, and as all Duchesses she was a Blood. Some men could use magic, but only the basic spells, the best reaching the second form of magic, but women, only they could ascend to the highest proficiency, the fourth form, he knew, just as all

senior healers at the hospital were women. So too were the Sorceress Duchesses. In Jims world, you knew that there were such elites. Legends mostly, but the four armsmen told that there was truth to them. Jims was now in the presence of one. He had never thought to even see one such high Blood. “Well, I would not be the one to say if I am important or not. But you tell me about yourself, it will take my mind off my pains.” Gutrie would not like it, which would be reason enough to talk to the Blood. Jims also knew that she spoke true. Enough patients he had seen in pain, that getting them thinking of something else was as good as any other medicine the healers gave out. They had begun the gentle glide to the second level. “Not much to say. Work here as orderly near the whole five day, have half day every other five day. Good though on day shift, though quieter the nights.” “I think I understand you to say that you work every day but half of one in two five days? And that you prefer the days, but if you worked the nights it is less busy.” “Here on the wards, yes ma’am, your grace.” Hans had tensed but relaxed when Jims remembered the honorific. Che used to be mad like that at first till Jims had gotten used to serring him every other word.

“But in the New Pains room, it is always busy.” “Hah, I remember working the New Pains room when the hospital was first built. Just had my first child and it was thought good training for what was to come later.” St. Copernias was over fifty years already, least ways Jims had enough learning to be figuring numbers and knew something of it. He wondered how old the lady was, but if she was a sorceress as she was talking like, and if a Duchess, then a Blood she had to be, then she could be more than 100, for talk was that they lived longer than that. They now were close to the ramp to the first floor. Half way to the Imagers. “So you work and that is all to your life? Though I am curious how the hospital works you so many days.” “All orderlies work like this.” The lady grimaced and he rambled about it being fine with him, for the pay was decent, and he allowed that it was well enough, though he expected Gutrie held back more than was right figuring Jims would never make sense of it. Jims however knew how much leverage it was worth him to work the same hours as Steph. “No, I am a governor of the hospital. We wanted all to have a day off each five day, and another half day besides.” “The healers and their assistant nurses do. Just the orderlies work, but we are fine with it.”

“Very well Jims, do you have family, parents, siblings, a wife, a special girl.” Jims laughed, she was nosy, this one was, he thought. “Parents be gone, and no time for a girl. Take care of my sister, and have an orphan boy I be looking after.” They were now on the ramp to the ground floor. Soon the Imagers suite would be at hand and he could be free of her questioning for half of the hour. The lady, and he realized he did not know her name, started to cough again. He slowed the cart and was very gentle as she tried to recover. He knew to watch for blood, and he could see that she brought none up. That was good. Her ribs though, she could be breaking, and that was not good. “Did the healer give you any medicine for the coughing. Bones don’t do well with the constant pressure.” He said when he knew she could hear him again, and the coughing had stopped. “Yes, yes she did, and I’ve a spell to protect my ribs and lungs. That I knew to do for myself.” Jims had seen many older people cough their way to death since he had started. In winter it was worse and more likely to be setting upon the older ones, though it was the beginning of spring now. One last ramp, and he could take some break, but then he would have to take her back to her suite. Though often, after imaging, patients were too tired for much of anything and blessed sleep was all

they wanted. “No parents, you said. What trade was your father in, was he a laborer?” Son followed father in most of life amongst the less educated. The priests gave the teachings of reading and writing and skills with additions. Those who had promise, and how they knew was a mystery that Jims had yet to understand, were taught sciences and arts, those who lacked were sent to their parents with the direction of being taught what work the family did. In many cases that was all that the family desired, their heirs learning the trade and ensuring that it continued to thrive. Jims’ father had little trade, some luck with plantings if he remembered aright, though that was years before they ended in the Ghetto. Jims expected his parents had been farm-kin and had come to the city for a better life, but it became worse. Not a story that was his alone, many a family shared it. “Aye, my lady, he earned his coins by hard work, when there was work.” And Jims recalled how seldom that was. Certainly less work once his mother was gone. More drunkenness. In his thoughts of those long ago days, Jims pretended to himself that his father and mother were quite happy before her death, and his father provided well for them. Jims was sure that liquor was only used for celebration, not for drowning sorrows while his mother lived.

But now they were at the Imagers rooms and the armsmen went and checked it before he rolled her in. Jims assured her that he was to wait with the Roca until she was finished and he helped with Hans to transfer her gently to the table the Imagers used. He often thought that he could keep his patients on the Roca, and just swap with the table in the suite if they only used wheels on it. It was the same height, but the bosses of the hospital seemed to know better. No time, was what Jims thought to call the moments when he waited for something to do but officially had nothing to do while he waited. This was not as efficient as it could be either, but the bosses knew best. When he ran with the Packs, Che told him he needed to cultivate patience, anticipation in those he squeezed coins from often meant that force was not necessary. To Jims it was just wasting the same time for different reasons. Two armsmen stayed in the hall with Jims, the other two stayed with the high-born and the Imagers. As far as Jims could tell, he knew that all five Imagers were attending the Blood, something he had not heard of before, and three senior healers came to the suite also. Nurse Julia, one of Steph’s mentors, nodded to him as she went in to the suite. Too many healers and staff, so either it wasn’t good for the lady, the bosses wanted her to be made extra well, or somewhere in between. Nurse Julia left and she was smiling, as much as Nurse Julia

smiled. Usually that face was burrowed in frowns, for her wards were mostly troublesome. Even Steph he was sure caused Julia concern of a nature that a good spanking would cure. Steph had never had a hand raised to her since their father went. Jims had been lax, and he should have punished her when she needed it. But that was not what he was about. “Duchess Keren is ready, orderly.” The Imager had opened the door and summoned him. She knew his name, but as he was a mere orderly and she a healer, though of the lessor branch, she acted superior. She was a Blood, though, and that earned its own respect. But she was also not attractive to Jims, so he did not let it bother him. If she had been pretty, then he might spend time flirting with her to convince her to change her mind. He brought his roca into the suite and could see the duchess was tired. “Well Jims, it seems you must wheel me back up to my room now.” “Yes my lady.” “Senior Healer Melanie,” The high born called to the hospitals most important boss. “Yes your grace?” “This young man has been very good. I should think that he might be my permanent orderly while I am your guest.”

The Senior Healer did not look pleased. She usually looked less pleased than even Nurse Julia. “Of course your grace. Young man, you are excused other duties and assigned to her grace while she remains with us. I will have someone tell Supervisor Gutrie.” Jims nodded, not much else he could do. He knew that when there were elites, the hospital changed its way to make them comforted, not only for their healing, but for their status and the coin they could spend. Just as Che wanted to be treated like a king, king of the Laundry Boys, so too did high born want that deference. Didn’t matter much to Jims so long as it didn’t interfere with his watching out for Steph. Even with Ratter, he still needed to see to his sisters’ safety. “Good, now back to the room, where I think a nap would do nicely. Imagers looked at so many things you would think an old lady would have no secrets left to her.” Hans and the other armsmen gave a short laugh, but Jims saw that his charge was in pain. He was gentle but he was brisk in getting the lady back to her room, where he helped her to her bed. “My thanks Jims. I expect to hear more of you when I awaken.” Jims nodded but felt that he had to tell her of the change of shifts. “Of course your grace, but my shift comes to an end just past suns end. The telling may have to wait until the new day.” “Quite right, then I shall see you on the morrow. You look after an

orphan and your sister, you said. Here, Hans give Jims a token, no I insist. You take it. One day you’ll have a girl and you can use it to impress her. Hans,” She had to swallow a yawn, “You know what to say.” She waved them out, and Hans gripped Jims’ hand when they were out of the room. “This is more than you deserve. Tell me your full name, and what the Peacers know of you. If I find out anything wrong, then we won’t see you any longer, but if all is as you say, then you may wear your dagger tomorrow. You understand.” Hans did not have to explain it more. Jims knew that if the Peacers could speak well of him, Hans would trust him a little more, and if they had harsh things to say, then Hans would gut him rather then see him anywhere near the Duchess. “Jims, son of Henry the Carter of Bellers Court.” Hans eyes went up. “Bellers Court, do you know where that is?” “Aye, it is Ghetto. Father said he named it himself.” “I suppose it is Ghetto now. I had heard that. But originally it is country.” Hans looked at the one other armsman. “Michael here will go with you to the Peacers, they know you?” “Yes, I am known to them.” Hans nodded and the interview was finished. Jims knew without looking that he had another gold in his

hand. Jims left Michael talking to the Captain of the Peacers who knew Jims well enough. Sgt. MacClay was there also and he had been roped into vouch for Jims character. It was good that they did not know all that he had to do for Che. It was good that Che did not know all that he didn’t do but intimated that he had done for him. Che wanted more broken bones and bodies then Jims produced, instead producing the money in its stead. Captain Reyn though did know that when Jims was muscle for Che, less broken men had come out of the Laundry Boys territory. When he reached home, Steph was asleep in her room and Ratter was curled up by the kitchen fire. The boy had worked on two lines of his letters, which Steph spent every night teaching him. He showed progress and certainly would master writing within a ten month. Ratter had picked up reading the last ten month, and had simple figuring right enough. Jims had gotten a meal after leaving the Peacer station, and then had sent a street rascal with a message to Che. Jims could not be working for the Laundry Boys boss until the matter with the Blood had finished. Too much complication, and too much mess should each cross the other. The rank of things was always someone higher and someone

lower. Jims had heard the word equal he thought as he shifted his pillow and prepared for sleep. He knew there were some who thought in such terms, for in the eyes of Senior Healer Melanie, Jims and Wentil were equals, but in the orderly room, Wentil was last and Jims was treated as next to last. In the world all praised the King as first, but the Sorceress ladies, one heard praised him that way only as long as their convenience was well suited. The same they held of the four Senior High Priests, who also were said to be equals though three of them deferred to the Senior of New Roehm. And they in turn called the king first but often not, and called the Primate of Old Canter first, though he too was but a Senior High Priest.