The Chronicles of Harold the Healer

The Chronicles of Harold the Healer, Chapter 7

Harold Moser was facing a minor dilemma. After helping to release the spirit of a dying cat at Turner's Veterinary Clinic, then setting up a whole-home cleaning spell for the house that will become the new Veterinary Magic Academy or whatever it would be called, then performing the Last Rites for Ed Morton, its former co-owner, he was drained and hungry. He had tapped into the energy of some thunderstorms that were on their way, but he needed sustenance. It was a common problem with Magic use because of the demands that it put on the body and brain as the caster worked to bend the energy to his/her desires. He also wanted to put his Order of the Kingdom and Golden Star of Carcosa medals into a bank safety deposit box for safekeeping, but a peek in the window showed a long line of impatient-looking people, indicating that it was also moving slowly, so he decided to feed his need first.

"Is there a diner or restaurant around here?" he inquired of a passing couple of retired men.

"The Dewdrop Inn is really nice," said the first man.

"I should have prefixed my request with 'affordable'," Harold corrected. "I have a few coins in my pocket and the bank service seems to be constipated."

"Macy's is in the next block," said the other man, snickering at Harold's crude analogy. "It's a bit of a greasy spoon, but Macy will give a great blowjob for a little extra."

"So says the man whose pants magically fall down at the slightest possibility of a blowjob," remarked the first one, expertly deflecting a swat. "Though lately, it's been getting rather more difficult to rise to such an occasion," he added sadly.

"You should look up Kim Blandford," said Harold smoothly, edging back slightly. "I hear that a crazy Mage gave her a very effective recipe to counter problems experienced by older gentlemen," he added with a conspiratorial wink. They both perked up.

"Gordon, my good man, I believe that we have a few moments to spare before lunch."

"George, my good fellow, I even remember where she lives. Tally ho!" They looked around. "Where did that man get to?" Harold had inserted himself into a small knot of passers-by who were ignoring the old gaffers and had quietly Sneaked away. He found Macy's easily enough, realizing that he had walked by it earlier on his way south to eventually wind up with Dana at Turner's Vet Clinic.

"I really should pay more attention to my surroundings," he muttered to himself as he walked in through the door that had been propped open by a brick. A counter made of thin slices of black and white polished granite ran from near the front of the diner to the back. At the front, it closed off the area behind it so that a patron could sit on one of the stools with his back to the window, and at the back it closed off access to the rear where the kitchen was, save for a half door that opened inwards. The stools were higher than chairs, made from a variety of woods, and had crossbars near the bottom on which one could rest one's feet. When he walked in, staff in his right hand, the three people in the shop stopped their conversation to look at him.

The woman behind the counter was casually leaning on it while facing the two women who were seated on stools with the remains of their meals in front of them. All three were dressed in loose-fitting, white, short-sleeved blouses and slacks that looked suited to warm weather, and Harold could see that the visitors were probably wearing military-style boots similar to those that had been confiscated by Pella yesterday (damn, I want my boots back, he thought) that were mostly hidden by their slacks. They had olive complexions, rather than the usual fair complexions of people from the Westlands, oval faces framed by more-salt-than-pepper hair cut in attractive styles, sharp aquiline noses, sensual lips, and intelligent dark brown eyes that seemed to size him up quickly. Most noticeable were the scar on the left cheek of the woman behind the counter, and a tattoo of a snake wrapped around a sword on the outside of the visitors' left arms that extended from elbow to under the sleeve, and that their hands looked like they'd seen a lifetime of hard work.

Most interesting was that they had been speaking in Argosian, the native language of the Argosy Federation that bordered the Kingdom to its south. Harold had always had an interest in languages and had done well in the Introduction to Argosian course that was part of the seventh-year requirements in Mage School, but had never had the chance to use it until after the fall of Carcosa when their military and aid had arrived about a week after the battle. Even though they were a few hundred miles closer by sea to Carcosa than the Kingdom, Argosy had been slow off the mark in putting together a force to deal with the piracy that had been plaguing them as well. It was the Kingdom that had done the heavy lifting in the City and, by mutual agreement, the Argosians who had done the equally bloody mopping-up in the countryside. Because the Carcosan culture was more male-dominated and the Argosian more female-dominated, as opposed to the Kingdom's egalitarian approach, there had been some friction, especially at first when tempers were short. On many occasions, Harold and the other Mages had had their diplomatic and language skills sorely taxed as they attempted to smooth ruffled feathers. If nothing else, it had motivated the Carcosans to get themselves back on their feet quickly so they could tell the outsiders to bugger off that much faster.

To his surprise, Harold recognized them from Carcosa, and seeing that they hadn't recognized him yet, he decided to have a little fun. He offered Polite Bow #2, and a request to the woman behind the counter, in Argosian.

"Good morning. What do you have on the menu today?" Their response was total astonishment, as if the last thing that they'd expected was to hear one of the locals speaking their language. He grinned cheekily and added, "You look like a Malintan who was just told she is beautiful." Malinta was one of the thirty States in the Federation, whose natives were unfairly (and incorrectly) maligned for a lack of beauty. A significant fraction of their Federal government's efforts were devoted to its original purpose, namely keeping the peace between the States, whose overall geographical size and economy were close to those of the Kingdom, but whose internal cohesiveness was much less. They were even more astonished, then started laughing loudly as Harold placed himself on a stool near the door, a relatively safe distance away from the visitors.

"A Kingdom man who speaks Argosian, with a not too dreadful accent," said the woman behind the counter. "Welcome to my diner. I haven't seen you before, but you look familiar for some reason," she continued in Kingdom Standard with the trademark Argosian accent of rolled r's and odd syllabic stress patterns. "What would you like?"

"A cup of coffee and a chicken pot pie, which is a Tanan specialty, if I recall correctly."

"How the hell would you know that?" she asked in surprise, looking at him sharply. The woman farthest from Harold suddenly snapped her fingers.

"That staff! You're Harold Moser, one of the Kingdom Healers who was in Carcosa, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," he replied as Macy looked on, memory dawning on her face. "You probably aren't a sergeant any more, are you Giuliana?"

"No, I eventually made Sergeant-Major of the Quartermaster Battalion," she replied, getting off the stool, snapping to attention, and saluting with her right hand at eyebrow level.

"Oh, respect is due," he replied, also standing, transferring his staff to his left hand, snapping to attention, and saluting with his clenched right fist over his heart, thumb and curled forefinger against his chest, then adding Polite Bow #4. "That gave you the opportunity to terrorize more people," he added with a wink. She snorted half-heartedly as the other woman stood up. "Malia, I have no doubt that you also expanded your shouting audience," he added, almost straight-faced.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Malia Campanella, at your service," she replied with a more friendly smile and they exchanged salutes. Macy had returned by this point with a cup of coffee that she plunked on the counter in front of Harold. "I'll bet that you never got beyond Lieutenant."

"Of course not," Harold replied with a grin, resuming his seat and leaning his staff against the counter. "Aside from Connie, who was career Army, we had all been drafted and they decided to make us Lieutenants for lack of anything better. They never even bothered to decommission me afterwards."

"Yet somehow you wound up with the Order of the Kingdom, the Golden Star of Carcosa, and the hand of Healer Leila, all in one night," said Macy, delivering a substantial-looking pot pie that had Harold almost drooling at the sight. "I apologize for not recognizing you earlier. I was distracted by those two jokers boasting about how big a cock they were going to get in their pussies tonight."

"I thought that you'd still be in Nursing," Harold replied after devouring a big bite of the food and washing it down with some coffee.

"I left the Army as a Staff Sergeant, and after many adventures I wound up here about five years ago. I'm a nurse part-time at the Hospital and my husband runs this place for extra cash on the side."

"Did he ever demonstrate his therapeutic massages on you?" Malia snickered as Macy turned a shade of pink. "Best damned masseur I've ever had. And the happy ending totally ruined me." The heat in her stare left no doubt that she'd be all over him if given half a chance.

"And life saver," Giuliana added soberly, getting nods from the other two. Harold blushed modestly as he continued his attack on the pot pie.

"You told me about getting caught up in a barroom brawl that turned nasty," said Macy, eyeing the Mage speculatively.

"They had knives and we didn't have time to draw ours," Malia replied grimly. "Our hero here was throwing Sleep spells around to try to get it under control until the Kingdom soldiers showed up to bash heads and haul everyone away, then he had to Heal some bad stab wounds on us and others afterwards. After that the High Command granted carte blanche for self-protection weapons, after which time attacks on us quickly declined."

"I went to the Joint Field Hospital afterwards," Harold said to the two visitors, having made his food and coffee disappear in record time. "Some of the Carcosan so-called Patriots tried attacking it shortly after I'd arrived. They hadn't counted on Connie's being there."

"I never told you what happened next," said Macy, her grim tone adding to that of the others. "Harold, the big blonde Engineer Mage..."

"Dana," Harold added. "And Melanie, another Healer."

"They held them off until Connie got powered up. I have never seen Fireballs and Lightning Bolts in action before, let alone at close quarters, and I never want to again."

"Good times, good times," said Harold ironically, ensuring that every last drop of his coffee had been consumed and placing the mug back on the counter. "I must admit to being pleased to see you again, just as I am surprised to find you here, of all places."

"I hope that you thanked him properly," said Giuliana with a pointed stare at Macy. The lack of subtlety in not answering the question was not lost on either her or Harold. Their eyes locked and they remembered.

"Yes and no," Macy hedged, her eyes getting a far-away look and blushing a bit.

"You have a story there, don't you?" demanded Malia, making her blush more. "Out with it!"

"How much do I owe you?" Harold interrupted, standing up and Cleaning his mug, fork, and plate with a clatter, making the others jump. "Three doubloons should be more than sufficient," he continued, standing up, digging in his pockets, and coming up with the coins, which he plunked on the counter. "Gotta run, places to go, things to do." He grabbed his staff with his right hand and turned to make his escape, but it was too late, as Dana's substantial form was blocking the doorway. "Dana!" he exclaimed, the Picture of Delight at Seeing Someone. "Some interesting people from our deep, dark past are here for you to visit!" He grabbed her left hand with his left hand and placed his left foot directly in front of hers, so that when he pulled her in, her foot couldn't move to compensate, she lost her balance and all but fell into the diner. Before she could recover, he was out the door and running north.

Dana had sensed his presence as she had been walking back from the movers, some group named Webber Transportation, which was located only two blocks east of Main Street and one down from here. She had dropped off the horse and wagon with instructions to get some folks to the Morton house as soon as practical, and declined a ride back with thanks, saying that she needed the exercise, which was true enough. She felt that she'd gotten a bit soft over the years, despite her husband Stan's lecherous insistence that it was "in all the right places". She had noticed the diner and figured that Harold would go to the nearest food source. As she had gotten closer, she had picked up on his increasing level of agitation. She couldn't tell if it was in response to her presence and his desire to escape or some situation that he'd found himself in, but if he was in trouble, she wanted to be there to back him up. She had been surprised to see three Argosian women, one behind the long counter and two in stools well inside, and even more surprised at Harold's maneuver and his escape out the door. He'd even managed to not hit her with his staff as he'd slipped by.

"I keep forgetting how fast that man can be," she said ruefully in fluent Argosian, surprising the women for the second time that morning. The one behind the counter seemed familiar for some reason, but the other two were strangers. "I presume that you've met Healer Harold before."

"You must be Dana," said the woman behind the counter. "We had just been talking about the fight in the Joint Field Hospital in Carcosa when you appeared." Recognition dawned on Dana.

"You were one of the Nurses, weren't you? I recall that some of you joined in the fray until Connie got her ball rolling, and you guys have some pretty smooth unarmed combat moves that I never got the chance to ask about."

"I'm Macy Struli, the owner of this diner, and yes, that was me. Your skills with the quarterstaff impressed us. It's not a weapon that our military spends much time teaching or dealing with."

"I'm Sergeant-Major Giuliana Vella and she is Lieutenant-Colonel Melia Campanella, both retired," said Giuliana, and both rose from their seats. Handshakes were exchanged all around. "I'd figured that you had us pegged as military." Dana nodded and they all sat down, with Macy bringing four coffees for them, asking for a stool for herself, which Melia passed over the counter, and sitting as well.

"Those tattoos of yours were a giveaway."

"Healer Harold was wondering why we were here just before you showed up. It's not the sort of thing that men need to know," said Melia condescendingly.

"That attitude will get you nothing but trouble, if it hasn't already," replied the Engineer rather sharply, getting shapely raised eyebrows and rather glum nods from the visitors. "I don't know how the Kingdom managed to avoid the burden of sexism, but we have. You also may have noticed that it gives us an advantage because smart, capable people aren't forced into some profession where they can't be at their best."

"Your soldiers, both male and female, were professional and very competent in Carcosa and have been so elsewhere, including in a few unfortunate border, uh, misunderstandings that gave our Army's reputation a bloody nose," snickered Guiliana. At Dana's raised eyebrow of inquiry, she continued. "Not that we didn't have it coming to us. The commanders of your border posts knew how pig-headed their counterparts were and had their male soldiers polish and paint their armour and mince around like pretty boys in full view of our watch towers and spies while the female soldiers pretended to treat them like we treat ours."

"Not well, in other words," said Melia, shaking her head. "So when Janna Guraldi thought that she could rob a food train for your post, she and her cronies got a very nasty surprise when the pretty boys who were guarding it turned out to have very sharp teeth. And she wasn't the only one in that time span to lose her command like that."

"My little Nursing grapevine spread the word about that incident, despite efforts to hush it up," said Macy thoughtfully. "It was a remarkable coincidence that there just happened to be a wandering Healer in the area at the time who saved the lives of five of our soldiers and three of yours. A tall man with a hat, a large pack, and very dangerous quarterstaff skills." They all looked at Dana.

"It wouldn't surprise me if that was Harold. I had no contact with him at all after I left Carcosa until yesterday, but the due diligence research into the character of a recipient required for the Order of the Kingdom dug up very interesting reports from all over the place over a span of many years."

"I apologize for my comment," said Melia, clearly uncomfortable at having to do so.

"I had to learn the hard way," said Macy dryly. "It took a couple of months and several shouting matches with both women and men before I was finally able to learn. We stick out like sore thumbs here as it is due to our gorgeous appearance," she added, striking a pose that got laughs from them all, "but that's the main lesson that I was trying to get across to you two before Healer Harold showed up."

"Why are you here, anyway?" asked Dana curiously, looking sadly at the bottom of her empty mug. "My knowledge of Argosy is rather lacking, but I can't see why Magwitch would be of interest to your leadership."

"Two months ago, one of our local Gods had a Foretelling," said Giuliana. "I don't know how things work with Deities here in the Kingdom, but in Argosy they usually keep out of sight, tweaking and pulling strings from the background to keep things running smoothly."

"That sounds about right," said Dana. "I think that most, if not all, Mages encounter them from time to time. They like to keep an eye on us to make sure we walk the straight and narrow."

"This God decided that it was necessary to show himself to the City Council of Sidone, one of our major ports," Melia added at Dana's questioning look. "For some reason, for the past few weeks, ghosts have been accumulating in the city. He barged into a meeting of the Council and informed them that the Wild Hunt would be coming to Magwitch, in the Westlands of the Kingdom, and that they must charter a ship, get some Mages to herd as many of the ghosts as possible onto it, and to take them here. The Councillors laughed at him and told him to get lost, until he revealed himself by teleporting all of their clothes into a big pile in the middle of the floor in front of him."

"We have learned, from experience as well as in class, that when a Deity asks if you can do something, the correct answer is 'Yes'," said Dana dryly.

"There just happened to be a slightly derelict troop transport in the Naval Harbour that had been brought in the previous week for scrapping," snickered Giulia. "Another interesting 'coincidence'. We had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, namely a Dockside tavern not too far from the ship. It was the God himself who walked in, saw us, marched over and drafted us for the project because we could speak Kingdom Standard and had had experience with their people. And your assessment is absolutely correct," she added to Dana. "No was not the correct answer, as was made chillingly clear." They momentarily had strained expressions on their faces before she continued.