"The Blood That Gives the Gift" Log Date: 3/13/00 Log Cast: Jason, Faanshi, Cailet (NPC emitted by Faanshi), Mary (NPC emitted by Faanshi), Mary's other children (NPCs emitted by Faanshi) Log Intro: Life is not exactly easy when you're a halfbreed shudra in Atesh-Gah -- but then again, even despite the repeated blows that Faanshi's life seems to want to deal her, ranging from the loss of her beloved heart-mother up through the evident betrayal of the old Varati arch-magus who had become her second teacher, life continues. And even when her spirit is weighted down with her inner burdens, Faanshi has committed herself to making certain that life does in fact continue, wherever she and her power can help it. And thus she has continued on her personal missions into Bordertown, seeking out any and all in that section of the city who might permit a humble halfbreed girl in Varati clothing to soothe their hurts and ills. There are many healers in Haven, she knows, but not too many who seem to want to bestir themselves to go to where the greatest need lies. Another maiden might be troubled by her relative solitude in her chosen quest -- but not Faanshi. Instead, her focus remains simply upon the healing. Today, though, she is about to discover that she does not have quite so much solitude in her forays of mercy into Bordertown as she thought she did... and that there is a healing power in Haven unlike any she has ever seen before.... *===========================< In Character Time >===========================* Time of day: Morning Date on Aether: Wednesday, March 1, 3906. Year on Earth: 1506 A.D. Phase of the Moon: Waning Gibbous Season: Early Spring Weather: Partly Cloudy Temperature: Cool *==========================================================================* Fairway and Border - Haven Here is the beginning of Bordertown, named for the street that marks the boundary between it and the rest of the Haven. To the east lies order--the streets are designed in a grid-like pattern, the homes and shops are well-cared for, and business and trade thrive. But to the west is a different story. Only the main streets are still recognizable: Fairway, Main, and Seaside. The rest are a tangle of alleyways, side streets, and narrow, twisting paths. Here is the real "haven," the sanctuary to outcasts, rogues, thieves, and ruffians. They make their homes within Bordertown, where even the city guard is reluctant to venture, and this city within a city might as well be a separate one entirely, for all the traffic there is between. Resembling a jungle metaphorically, Bordertown also contains a literal one: the town garden to the southwest. Perhaps once it was meant to beautify the city, but over time it was claimed by Bordertown; its neat, ordered paths and manicured lawns giving way to a dense growth of weeds and wilderness--its beauty grown wild. Obvious exits: Fox's Forge Rooming House A Moment in Thyme Streets The Rialto Town Garden Jason wanders in from the east along Fairway. Jason has arrived. A cool spring morning, and most of the inhabitants of Bordertown are out and about at their jobs. Not so for one small family. The father, a mason by trade, is desperately ill of fever. His wife and children are clustered in their home with him, a one room shack, waiting for him to die. Or a miracle. And with a soft knock upon their door, Jason arrives. He does not carry his Caducean's staff, looking for all the world like just another mongrel. Until one really looks at him, that is. There is too much power in his bearing for him to be just another of the trod upon masses. He enters the house and is within only for a few minutes, before stepping out through the door and back into the street. No fanfare or applause. Just a woman and her husband, exhausted though healed, weeping and watching him go. Jason There is an air around this man of one that has spent years fighting the pull of death; and yet, in this man, there is also the sense of his determination to succeed in that battle. He is dressed simply in the white robes and sandals of a common man, dust clinging to his feet from his travels. His eyes are the most magnetic of blue, the color of the bright sea in high summer and holding within them a sense of both his iron will and his compassion. Pale brown hair is strung with silver now that youth has passed him, and it is worn long to just above his shoulders. He carries himself with a powerful grace, moving with the precise sense of purpose that belies both his capability and his determination. No action is wasted. Strongly built along wiry lines, his skin is darkened by the kiss of sunlight and his hands are roughened ever-so-slightly from well-use. He often carries with him the staff of a Caducean, plain wood carved with the winged curves that is the order of healing's symbol. Dog! Dog dog dog dog dog dog dog! Kosha might not be able to talk, but his canine body language fairly shouts to the entire world what is going through his mind as he galumphs along on his enormous paws into the quarter of Haven called Bordertown. His size notwithstanding, this massive beast really _is_ a puppy at heart and that can be easily seen as he makes his way along, tail a-wag, eyes bright. Close on his heels is a maiden in red and gold and blue. It is a similar mission of mercy that draws the shudra girl and her ever-loyal hound into Bordertown, this spring morning -- for her self-appointed quest to heal Mongrels in Bordertown, aside from the comfort and allure of a particular bard of her acquaintance, is one of the few things that can lift Faanshi's spirits these days. This morning, though, something stops her as she proceeds along the street with her canine friend. Something that lifts the hair on the back of her dainty neck, making her pause and glance to this house and that, green eyes uncertain over the top of her veil. Magic. Healing magic. And not hers... somewhere near? But then it fades, and the girl rubs her hand across her eyes, wondering if she imagined it. There it is again; a surge in power, brief, but stunning for all its brevity. And Jason continues to walk up the street, having brushed a woman in passing who would have died of a cancerous growth in a few months. No one even glances at him, though the woman straightens and absently rubs at her side, where her persistant 'heartburn' had vanished. The healer's motives in coming to Bordertown are, as always, shadowy and difficult to discern. Perhaps it is out of some nostalgia for his youth, or simply a desire to help. Regardless, he continues on his way, pausing to buy an apple from a small boy selling them on the corner and chewing it idly as he goes. The boy blinks and looks down at his leg, which had previously been distorted by a club foot; now, it was gently straightened. A look of wide-eyed awe is directed at the mongrel man in a robe as he walks away, apple in hand, but the boy does not say anything. Just stares. When the tickle of power washes across her again, Faanshi catches her breath in shock. Healing magic, she realizes -- but like none she has ever felt before. It doesn't feel like FallingStar. And it doesn't feel like... her other, former teacher. She has met one or two of the healers who don't disdain the notion of working in Bordertown, but this doesn't feel like either of them. If these other mages of her acquaintance would be torches, whoever claims this power would be a blazing hearthfire. The depth and warmth of that magic very nearly brings tears to her eyes, and before she really is aware of what she's doing, the maiden breaks into a near-run to try to catch up with the strange man in white. At her side, Kosha lets out a bemused yurf and then starts loping along after her -- is this a new game, perhaps, that his mistress wants to play? The little boy gets up from his seat and stomps his foot a few times, testing it out, before picking up his apples to run home to his mother. Run. For the first time in his life. Jason continues to munch, savoring the sweet juice of the fruit. It can be pleasant to escape the Citadel now and then, he has found. If he is aware of Faanshi, he shows no sign of it. Instead he pauses to look over a woodworker's display set up just outside his shop, crouching to examine the dovetailing and grain-work of a rather nice little table. Crunch. The apple continues to disappear. "I-Imphadi?" The gentle voice sounds from somewhere just behind, the accents Varati, falling liquidly and just a trifle breathlessly upon the ear. Not daring to come any closer than a few paces' distance from the man in white, Faanshi keeps her gaze upon the ground even as she steadies her basket of herbs upon her arm. Kosha skids to a halt next to her, sniffing inquiringly about. Man-scent. Apple-scent. Sniff sniff sniff. Distracted from what her dog is doing, the shudra adds humbly, "Please... forgive my intrusion, imphadi, but... if I may have a moment of your time...?" Blue eyes turn away from furniture to regard the young shudra woman behind him. There is a moment of silence as Jason watches Faanshi, quiet and with those eyes so blue it almost hurts to look at them keeping track of her every movement. And then he smiles, and it's a very gentle thing, the kind of smile that makes children climb in his lap and ask him to play. "Of course. Is there something I can do for you?" His voice is cultured, educated. Unlike many of the mongrel voices around him. She has no idea what actually convinces to her to look up; certainly it's not through any force of habit. But look up the halfbreed girl does, and all that she can think for a moment is _Ushas!_ as she finds herself practically drowning in blue. Inexplicably comforted by that gaze, that smile, and the way those words are uttered, the young woman blurts out guilelessly, "You are a healer--" It is not a question, though there is awe in those soft tones of hers. "I thought... perhaps if you do not have others to whom you must attend... there is a child, Imphadi, she fell off a roof two days ago a-and I could not finish helping her yesterday... if you could...?" The healer does not confirm or deny Faanshi's statement, instead smiling once more and saying in those same tones, quiet and gentle, "Take me to her, and I shall see what can be done." Jason straightens a bit and offers his hand to Kosha, glancing down at the dog with that same smile. It is a very curious thing, for he is almost assuredly a mongrel. His features are too coarse for Empyrean, and he has no wings; he is too small and fair to be Varati. No gills or pointed ears mark him as lacking Sylvan or Atlantean heritage. And yet...power courses through him like the flooding tide. Yrf? Kosha sniffs uncertainly at those proffered fingers, his nose not quite able to make sense of the scent of them, but after a moment the big hound apparently decides that this isn't a problem, for he licks Jason's hand enthusiastically. The maiden, in the meantime, breathes in unmistakable gratitude, sketching a deep bow with her hands clasped at her breast, "Thank you, imphadi, thank you...! Her home is this way... come...!" And with that, Faanshi gestures off across the way, somewhat towards the west, already starting to hasten in that direction. Somewhere in the back of her mind the man's decidedly Mongrel-ish appearance pings curiously at her thoughts, but most of her attention is upon the power she sensed within him. If he has that kind of power, she tells herself, perhaps he can help Cailet, and better than she could herself. Memory of the shattered bones she'd touched yesterday lends speed to the maiden's steps as she goes. The healer follows along behind Faanshi, matching each step for step with an apparent lack of effort. No sissy this healer, despite his middle age. Though there is a hint of bemusement to his expression, there is more a calm compassion. What is lacking is too much worry for the young child. He is confident, and that confidence is almost soothing. There is the sense when one is around him that everything will be all right. It doesn't take long. The place this girl in sari and veil seems to have in mind is a Mongrel hovel like many others within Bordertown, and after minutes of swift walking, Faanshi gestures her newfound companion towards the front door of the little ramshackle house. There, the maiden steps up to the door, squares her shoulders, and knocks. A plump Mongrel woman with haggard eyes and streaks of gray hair escaping from a bun at the back of her neck answers the door, and relief floods her pale, exhausted face at the sight of the girl on her doorstep. "Miss Faanshi," she breathes, "'tis glad it is I be to see ye... Cai, she hain't awoken since yesterda', but we burned th' herbs in th' water like ye said... who's this, then?" And those tired dark eyes lift to take in Jason, behind the halfbreed girl. The question seems to take Faanshi aback, as she turns to peer unsurely at the man she's brought, realizing she's neglected to ask his name. "He... can help," she murmurs then. "He is a healer, like me, Imphada Mary." For some reason, the healer's expression flickers as he looks to the mongrel woman before him. After a moment's pause, he speaks in the most gentle and calm voices, and in it there is a note of real caring. "I can help your daughter, if you would allow me." That is all he says; no mention of his name or the like. Just a simple offer. The flicker of strange expression that the initial introduction brought is quickly gone, replaced by his healer's professionalism. He glances at Faanshi briefly, noting the name given to her, and he asks quietly, "What herbs did you give her?" The Mongrel mother snorts aloud, but without any real rancor, at being addressed as 'Imphada'. "Well, if th' lass says ye can heal, man," she tells Jason, looking him up and down dubiously, "I'll take 'er word on it, for it's dem near worn down to th' nub she made herself yesterda' for me wee Cai. Come in, then, th' both of ye!" And she gestures the pair on her door, along with the curious-eyed, tail-wagging dog, into the little house. "Chamomile and lavender, imphadi," Faanshi murmurs shyly to Jason, "to try to give her calm sleep... and johnswort, for she is still hurt inside... I-I'd hoped it would keep her till I returned today!" "Good, good." Jason smiles approvingly at Faanshi as he follows the mongrel woman into her home, glancing at the room only briefly before his eyes seek out the patient he is to attend to. His hands, still smelling of apple from his lunch, rest lightly at his side until he is shown to the injured girl. "Tell me what happened?" A quiet prompting, directed at either of the two women. The house has but two rooms in it, and one is presumably where everyone sleeps; the front room, perhaps, is what passes for a chamber in which to entertain what pass for guests in Bordertown. A trio of grubby dark-eyed Mongrel children, sitting in the midst of a pile of old and much-used toys in the middle of the front room, study the pair of healers as they come in; under pain of a sound spanking, perhaps, none of them are making any noise, and they look about as tired and worried as their mother does. The presence of the dog appears to perk them up some, however, and they scamper to Kosha to start lavishing him with pettings and pattings, which is quite all right with the dog. In the back room might be found the hurt child, a waif possibly no older than five, lying limp upon a sleeping pallet. Her hair is dark, and perhaps her skin would be naturally olive-hued if she were not so unnaturally pale. At a casual inspection it might be difficult to tell that she breathes, but to a healer's senses there is yet life within that tiny frame... and more tellingly, more obviously, the mother does not appear to be grieving. "Cailet fell off a roof, she did," Mary announces. "Broke her wee back an' her head, too, says Miss Faanshi, an' she an' her yon great hound come just about in time!" It would seem this Mongrel woman's cornering the market on conversation, for the halfbreed girl merely goes straight to the unconscious child's side, kneeling down and stroking her brow with her slender sungolden fingers. The healer nods as the woman speaks, listening intently for all that his gaze is upon the child. When the explanation is finished, Jason says quietly, "Do not despair. All will be well." And then he kneels next to the pallet, work-roughened hands lifting and settling ever-so gently upon the child. And that is all he does. There is no great concentration, or effort, or any external fireworks. No, the only person in the room besides the wounded child who would feel anything of what happens is Faanshi. The magic that slips from Jason is as effortless as breathing to him; it is like a star bursting into light when he touches the girl. Skill directs the magic along the channels of injury, speeding along the girl's veins and mending all that it touches. And then the light fades, and the child is asleep, complexion blossoming with new life even as the healer draws his hands away. Her breathing becomes steady, rich, the sounds of a child in deep rest but not in pain. It is as he said -- all is well. The concern of the healer maiden and the mother is not unfounded -- for within that small body are... or, rather, _were_... a number of badly shattered bones as well as damage within her brain. Tiny ribs still resonate with the feel of a lesser magic, and tiny lungs were functioning because of the touch of the shudra girl. Now, though, as that incandescent magic wells up and bathes the waif in its radiance, Faanshi catches her breath sharply. Oh, yes, she can feel it, and tears of joy spring up impulsively within the halfbreed's eyes. Only Mary is left to wonder exactly what is going on, and she demands anxiously, "well, she gonna be okay, then, man? Can ye heal 'er, or what?" From where she kneels, Faanshi shoots a wet, awe-filled gaze up at the Mongrel mother. Her veil is hiding the smile that has blossomed unconsciously across her features. "He has, imphada," she breathes, "he _has_!" And she shoots to her feet again, reaching for the woman's arm and guiding her forward to get a better look at the prone child. And with that, Mary lets out a startled oath. She is no mage... but she knows health and life in her daughter's face when she sees it, and joy bursts out across her haggard countenance. He has done this many times in his life, and yet it never loses that sense of satisfaction. Jason looks down at the girl and smiles, lightly touching the girl's shoulder. "She will be fine, Mary. Let her rest today, but when she awakens, see that she eats. She will be quite hungry, I imagine, after missing so many meals." And then he gets to his feet, still agile despite his age, and dusts his hands lightly against his robe more out of habit than need. It seems quite like he is about to leave, actually. "Ach... I will! I'll make 'er her very favorite stew, see if I won't... what can I do to repay ye, man?" Beaming broadly, crying without shame, Mary appears about ready to throw her ample arms around Jason and embrace him. She has just enough decorum to keep from doing so, however. Instead, she hugs Faanshi, practically crushing the slender shudra in her arms. "Thankee! Thankee both, praise the gods, thankee both!" "Keep the rest of the herbs, imphada," Faanshi gasps, in the midst of that embrace. The sudden commotion draws the attention of the other children, and the three of them appear at the door. Three sets of eyes are wide with curiosity and hope, and the biggest child pipes up, "Is Cai gonna be okay, Momma?" Jason chuckles softly and glances at the other children, "Your sister will be fine, little ones. Though you should let her sleep today, she will be playing with you tomorrow." He turns to Mary and says quietly enough, "You've no need to repay me. Were it in their power, I am sure anyone would do the same." And that is that; there is the sense that he would not accept recompense for his healings, no matter what the situation. Smiles break out across the faces of the children, and as they start to excitedly babble questions, their mother bustles over to shoo them back out into the front room. "Ye heard th' nice man, now, git ye out an' let Cai get her rest!" Kosha barks once, on the children's other side, and Faanshi murmurs a hasty 'excuse me', slipping past Mary and trying to shoo her dog away along with the younglings. Mary forestalls her, though, clasping her dainty shoulder and addressing both the healers with a weary, happy tone, "Funny, that's about what this skinny slip of a girl told me, too! Well, I'll tell ye both -- ye get hungry in Bordertown, or ye need a place to come in fra' th' cold, ye come to Mary, ye hear now?" And Faanshi sketches that respectful bow of hers, murmuring, "I shall remember, Imphada Mary, I pledge it in the name of Ushas." "Hah! Ye hear that, the gel callin' me 'imphada'." Mary laughs out loud, with just a slight hint of hysteria, but it's a good tone nevertheless -- the shakiness of sudden relief and relaxation of worry and tension, and from the look of her she'll rally her spirits soon enough now that little Cailet is whole. "If ye willnae let me pay ye or feed ye, then I'm guessin' I'll just hafta send ye both off wi' good wishes, for I'm guessin' ye've more healin' t' be doin', aye?" "Always, madam. Thank you for your offer of hospitality. I shall remember it." Jason smiles and moves towards the door, lightly touching the woman's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance, before glancing at Faanshi and her dog. "Might I have a word with you outside, Faanshi?" There is a simplicity about the fellow. He does not use titles, or only rarely; he seems at ease in the house of a poor mongrel woman. He is quite a contradiction, a walking puzzle. Not that it seems to impair his ability to knit the wounds of a very hurt little girl. Faanshi peeks up from trying to surreptitiously dab at her eyes with a bit of her sleeve, and then hastily bobs her head. "Yes, Imphadi! Kosha, come, come..." The dog, in the midst of having his fur playfully tugged by two of Cailet's siblings, whines... but trots over anyway as he is summoned. The children whine, too, but Faanshi takes enough time to lean over and gently hug each of the small ones, murmuring a promise to bring the dog again for play. At last, after bidding a farewell to the relieved Mongrel mother, the shudra steps out into the morning. The morning air comes as something of a relief to the healer, it seems, for he is quiet for the time it takes to inhale and let out a soft sigh. Having gathered his thoughts, Jason speaks. "You have a great talent, Faanshi. I felt the touch of your magic when I healed the little one. It is strong, for one so young." He glances aside at the young shudra woman, hazarding a guess, "You are of mixed blood, are you not?" There is no hint of suspicion or anger or even dislike in the question. It is merely offered in that same gentle voice, perhaps with a touch more sympathy than usual. Kosha parks himself on his haunches at Faanshi's feet, scratching himself vigorously with one hind paw, while the maiden pauses. Something of her joy at feeling this massive, incredible power from this strange man dims down at his question, and her gaze drops downward again. Reflex, perhaps... or embarrassment. "Yes, Imphadi," she shyly replies. "I see. It is a gift we bear, and a difficulty, to be given power to help others...And yet regarded poorly for the blood that grants us that gift." Jason looks up at the sky, watching the clouds skip across the heavens with a gaze that seems to bear the weight of a long life. "You should not be ashamed of it. Your gift is your blessing, and would not be possible if not for your parentage. We are given good with the bad, to make it easier to bear. Much as you or I might give a child his medicine in honey, so that it is not so bitter. Take heart. Some day you will be a very great healer indeed, and able to help any who have need of it." "I..." Slowly, timidly, the green gaze peeks up again. Faanshi is not exactly at ease... and these words are not exactly unfamiliar. But for once, they seem to resonate for her in a way they haven't for a very long time, ever since the passing away of her beloved heart-mother. And with a slightly brither voice she ventures earnestly, "I can bear it...! I just want to help them... but I do not think I could have healed Cailet all by myself." The awe begins to come back, as she finishes, "Thank you, imphadi...!" He smiles and lightly pats the young shudra on the shoulder. "Everything takes time, child. If you continue as you are, and continue to care about those you help, I am sure that your skill will grow. You are very young yet. Give yourself room to grow into your gift." Jason bends a bit to skritch Kosha's head, before straightening. "Now, I must be off. Take care of yourself, and do not let the sorrows of the world stop you from being as good a healer as you know you can be." Easier said than done. But still... "I will try, imphadi," the maiden promises. Again those dainty hands of hers clasp at her breast, and again she bows in deference. But this time, the deference is for that wondrous power she has felt, and it is her choice to pay it homage -- rather than the choice of those whose stations are greater than hers. "Namaste'! The blessings of Ushas be upon you!" Only a smile and a light bow are Jason's reply, an offer of respect from one healer to another. And then he has turned and is walking away, robe fluttering faintly behind him as he returns to wherever it is he came from. How very... extraordinary. Though she does it with her head ostensibly bowed, Faanshi watches the strange nameless healer go, her young heart marvelling. Such power. And, it seems to her, a noble heart to go along with it. Today, because this man is walking the streets of Bordertown, the Mongrels of Haven will be healthier than they would be otherwise -- than they would be if she alone were attending to their care. _Thank you, Dawn-mother,_ she whispers to herself, in prayer to the mother of Khalid Atar, _thank you!_ And with her spirit lifted, the halfbreed girl sets off on her own way, looking for the next Mongrel to heal. [End log.]