Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,

The Economics of Healers: Farmers, part 2

Mirrored from Sythyry.

On the ride into Vheshrame, Ellie herself was putting as brave a face on it as a 12-year-old could be expected to. (And yes, they did ride. It would have been a ridiculous walk for an injured child, and zir parents didn’t think zie could stay on a horse. The mayor, Gorsen, did lend them her own carriage, and no questions asked. Remember that, at least, when you judge Gorsen.)

“We’ll get a healer to make it better,” promised Periwinkle.

“It’s all right, sather. It doesn’t hurt so very much,” said Ellie, and burst into tears.

And, again:

“You mustn’t blame Cayenne,” said a very ashamed Tansy. “He’s far too young to know better. I am the responsible one — I let him slip away from me, and of course I grabbed badly when you fell.”

“I don’t blame you, either, caunt Tansy,” said Ellie. “You were trying to save me. But I do wish you had let go. I don’t want to go around all lopsided and missing an antenna.” She knew what the quintet’s finances were like.

“Oh, poor child,” said Tansy, and burst into tears. This of course set Ellie off again, and that got Cayenne crying as well.

In all ways, it was probably the Worst Carriage Ride Ever, or at least the worst one in which nothing actually went wrong, as well as the Worst Birthday Party Ever.

In the Guild Hall

Estertherio oa Estropomp, the Summoner of the Healer’s Guild and herself a master-healer of the lowest rank, finally deigned to see Ellie as a patient. By “finally” we must admit that Ellie had been waiting for five hours, since mid-afternoon, and that a dozen patients had been seen before her. In Estertherio’s favor we must admit that Estertherio had chosen to see to the eight people injured in a flour explosion, most of whom were actively bleeding — if not actively showing off their private parts. In a way that titillated nobody, since those private parts were intestines, spleens, stomachs, and the like. We must also admit that Estertherio chose to dine before seeing Ellie rather than after, which may seem callous. And arguably she could tell at a glance that Ellie was in no immediate danger. Or arguably it was an act of selfishness, as Ellie and another half-dozen much-belated patients complained.

Estertherio granted Ellie a mere nine minutes of her time. “Well. You got a nasty knock on the head, but someone dumped enough crude healing spells on you so that you don’t really need any further magic for that. Then there’s that missing antenna. Do you have the severed antenna with you?”

“I do,” said Allam.

Estertherio picked it up out of Allam’s basket, and looked at it. “You would have been well-advised to preserve it. A simple meat preservation spell would have sufficed.”

“We’re village Herethroy, doctor,” said Allam. Meaning, of course, that they cannot and do not eat meat, and so unlikely to have meat preservation spells.

“Well. Should this ever happen again, be sure to look up a Cani, or an Orren, or even a Rassimel or Gormoror or Sleeth. If you had put a preservation spell on it even two hours after it was severed, it would be a great bit easier to reattach. As it is, it is a spell of complexity thirty to reattach it, and a second and stronger one to actually get it to work,” said the doctor.

“Can you do it?” asked Allam.

“What, I? Even if I had any cley left after that explosion, I don’t have the spell. It’s not that common. Can you pay for it? You must expect a hundred lozens to reattach it, and, if you are lucky, a thousand or two to restore function.”

“That’s a great deal of money for me,” said Allam. “Are there charities who might help us?”

“There are charities, to be sure, and there are healers who may be sympathetic and undercharge you. In all honesty, I doubt that they will help you,” said Estertherio. “This is little more than a cosmetic injury. Your cosi, having one antenna left, has lost some sensory acuity, and some attractiveness, and some expressiveness, but zie has not lost all. Zir life is hardly in danger, nor is zir ability to take care of herself. Charities and sympathies are largely reserved for more serious cases.”

“My poor cosi! … I suppose we must ask those healers who are capable, and see if any of them will help us,” said Allam.

“I wish you would not. They are our strongest healers, and, in full truth, they have better things to do than cosmetic surgery,” said Estertherio. She did not need to finish the phrase: on a poor and low-class farmer’s cosi. “Still: the healers who can do this are Moika Hastralan, who is on duty in this very hall; Dr. Tarnamme, and Dr. Vesputine, whose whereabouts I do not know but they might still be in their offices around town, and, on the odd chance that zie is around and you are transaffectionate, Dr. Sythyry.”

“We’ll go see Dr. Hastralan, then. Thank you for your time and your candor,” said Allam, rather devastated.

“Well, you certainly have my sympathies,” said Estertherio. “Be grateful that the situation is not too dreadful, and unlikely to get any worse.”

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