Bird of a Nest - Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Pol'ar was not Ryraso. Eyeri had known that going in but he hadn't been sure what to expect in different methods of keeping a clinic. For one, Pol'ar's clients were nobles so the equipment was top of the line and often decorated with gems to make them look more impressive. Unless the warship where they had used whatever they would salvage or get Wiljam to make for them. Keeping the tools clean felt more like polishing cutlery than medical tools. It also meant it took longer, so Eyeri had worked longer hours than at the warship to keep everything in good condition.
The floors were still wooden but the sheets on the beds were expensive too. Eyeri had pulled up memories of being trained as a slave to get those cleaned to an acceptable level. Pol'ar had seemed surprised that Eyeri had even known how to do it right. Pol'ar seemed surprised by a lot of Eyeri's behaviour.
It was like the older man was expecting him to start complaining like a normal spoilt teenager. Not the war-hardened one he was. He had been protected on the ship but not spoilt. The men on the ship had no time for that. Eyeri had no time for tiptoeing around either. He had a job to do and that was that. So cleaning up an elderly k'nairi after he had soiled himself, Eyeri would do that with grace and kindness. Bandaging a child's leg after a nasty fall while Pol'ar was dealing with a more serious case, he would do that too with a smile.
Forgetting to eat was an unfortunate side effect of trying to keep everything as perfect as was expected. The others in the clinic all had their own jobs to do and Eyeri kept out of their way like the good slave he had meant to be. A good slave did their work without being noticed or getting in the way. A good slave predicted their master's needs and sorted them out before they became an issue. A good slave did not complain. It was rather remarkable how many skills transferred to being an assistant, as much as the others would be angry at him for remarking so.
A good slave did not have to worry about their older brothers kidnapping them for lunch, however. Or their fathers warning their masters about their problems. Meaning after a few days of Fetmar kidnapping him, the day before the final judgement about his fate was settled, Fetmar failed to show up leading Head Healer Pol'ar to take him to lunch instead.
Eyeri exhaled as he bit down onto his bread, trying not to let his nerves show. Pol'ar was looking at him. The look was almost predatory. Not too unusual. Plenty of the k'nairi looked at him like something to eat. Eyeri was starting to accept it as them sizing him up and falling short. That was fine, really. Better to be underestimated. Something Eyeri knew Pol'ar had done before seeing his work.
"You are a good medic," Pol'ar commented almost out of nowhere.
"Thank you, I was trained well," Eyrei said curtly, his shoulders tense and forced back so he didn't look scared. K'nairi didn't respect weaklings. Pol'ar was one of the few that it was better to let his strong side out around.
"You were. That was never in question," Pol'ar acknowledged.
"Yet, Da is still stuck in Dyn'ad's shadow instead of working," Eyeri challenged softly. "Though admittedly, he has been helping with first aid in the training ring. I think Captain Par'nast is enjoying having a healer hanging around almost as much as he is enjoying having people from his hometown he can boss around," Eyeri mused, tilting his head slightly. Hermyi has some interesting complaints.
"Yes," Pol'ar said unhappily through gritted teeth. "I am aware that Ryraso has been working despite being told to wait until he has been cleared. As long as it is only as a medic, I have no problems with that. He has also been proving his worth in the ring."
Eyeri laughed amused. "Well, that wasn't entirely his fault. Fetmer had been on a mission to get people treating the humans you have captured as a threat instead of pets," he said with a big smile. "It's good that people don't forget that Da can fight. I mean half his scars are from the Royals anyway. It would be pretty bad if they just spend four years hurting him. They were actual fights in battles that meant something." He flicked his hair slightly and played with some of the food on his plate. "Mind you, I wonder if that's partly because Tai'ray didn't want anyone else hurting Ryraso looking back," Eyeri frowned.
"Possible. Eat your vegetables," Pol'ar ordered. Eyeri grimaced but ate, looking at the plate unhappily. There was more left than he could stomach. Pol'ar watched him again. "It would not be a good idea to talk about how the Royal's gave Ryraso scars," the older man said carefully.
"It happened," Eyeri shrugged, not in the mood to play games.
"It did," Pol'ar acknowledged.
The rest of lunch went in a similarly uncomfortable fashion. As they walked back to the clinic. Pol'ar had his wings behind Eyeri herding him along. Eyeri could feel irritation building in his chest. The royals had the right to treat him like this. Pol'ar did not. Pol'ar was threatening to take everything Eyeri had ever worked for away for no reason. He had no right to treat him protectively. As they drew closer to the clinic, the noise from it grew.
There had been an accident. A foresting team had been cutting down dead trees to clear the land a little when one of the trees had fallen differently to planned, crushing several men and injuring many more.
Healers got healing and Eyeri went into full medic mode. This was not the time to be an assistant. This was the time to get the people who didn't need as much help fixed and out of the room as quickly as physically possible. It was the time to sort out the injuries that didn't need magic from the ones that desperately did. It was almost a familiar sensation as cold water went over him and he moved through the patients calmly as they panicked. Pol'ar and the other healers were in private rooms, leaving him and one other medic on the main room, leaving him over to bark in human tongue from time to time to get people to shut up.
Then he heard something. Someone screaming in a language he had failed to forget. He breathed slowly, looking over at the k'nairi who was crying for mercy in Meyashian. The other medic was trying to calm him down but the man was still crying out in the desert tongue. A familiar scar on his face.
Eyeri's hearing left. Every once of his being focusing on the cries as he finished his current patient. A woman whose leg was broken. The bone had been healed already, leaving Eyeri plastering it to keep it stable while her bodies natural healing did the rest. Leaving her without another word, he helped wrestle the k'nairi back onto the bed.
"Masters are never happy when people hurt the medics," Eyeri found himself saying in Meyashian. His tongue tripping up slightly on the words but got them out. K'nairi weren't often slaves. If this one was speaking in the slave tongue, that meant he was having a flashback to a very dark time indeed. Eyeri needed the man to calm down before he caused more of an issue than he already had. "You need to calm yourself. We need to find out what is wrong before they come."
The k'nairi looked at him, eyes glazed over with fear and the past. Talons suddenly gripped onto him, ripping through his sleeves and digging into his arms. "Don't tell them, please. My Master doesn't heal broken slaves. I don't want to be thrown away," the man pleaded, tears rolling down his face. "I don't want to be thrown away."
"Then let us help and your master will never know," Eyeri offered softly, speaking in soothing tones. "But you have to let us help you," he added, looking over to the other medic with a look in his eyes. He couldn't ignore the pain coming from his arms forever. Now the k'nairi was clinging onto him, the medic was trying to get a sedative together. Eyeri was relieved when he saw this, repeating gentle reassurances as the man sobbed and shook. Being thrown away was a good fear to have. In the desert sands, they were baptised into their new lives. In the desert sands, they were removed from this world once they were no longer useful to their owners.
As the needle pushed into the man's neck, he struggled again but Eyeri held him, repeating promises that he was safe and his master would not know. It was hard to keep him still but the man had been hurt by the accident so Eyeri was strong enough miraculously. Slowly the man fell unconscious as the medicine took effect and the other medic helped Eyeri shift the stranger to the bed.
"You know the language of the Red Barrens," the man said through narrowed eyes.
"You couldn't subdue a panicking patient," Eyeri shot back, with his own narrowed eyes. "I would be more concerned about that."
"Eyeri," Pol'ar's voice called from behind him, sharply. Eyeri looked over him and was suddenly aware he was shaking. Pol'ar looked tired and distinctly dishevelled. He looked Eyeri up and down with that look of sizing him up. "Are you bleeding?" he asked almost gently. Eyeri shook his head, refusing to look at his sleeves. The stranger's talons had likely spliced through the material and had definitely injured him. Eyeri could feel blood rolling down his arms.
His healing had already kicked in and stopped anymore bleeding. That would stop his arms looking bloodied though. "Not anymore," Eyeri said calmly. His voice was like ice and his body was still trembling slightly. He squared his shoulders and tensed his legs like he was about to get into a fight.
The look on Pol'ar's face was unreadable. "Go wash your arms, and put on a fresh top," he ordered, gesturing over to where the bathroom was tucked away.
Eyeri moved, as quickly as he dared, to the bathroom and shut the door. He turned stiffly and looked in the mirror. His eyes looked wild and his skin was deathly pale. His sleeves were indeed ruined and covered in blood. Hands shaking, he turned on the tap. Like the warship, Navat had plumbing. Someone had mentioned not everywhere did. There weren't showers but sinks existed among toilets etc.
The water was quick to turn red as the blood left his skin. He was numb inside, he quickly realised. That wasn't good. He couldn't go in shock now. He was so close to proving he was a good enough healer. Unless he had already blown it. He washed his arms furiously, biting his lip to keep from sobbing out loud as he tried to reign in his emotions. He couldn't break down now. Later, when it was safe but not now. Not at this moment. Pulling the ruined top off, Eyeri dried his face on it and did some breathing exercises.
"Eyeri," a voice called, knocking on the door. "I have a top for you. It will be a little big but,"
"I'm sure it will be fine," Eyeri said, his voice soft again. Not so angry or dismissive but more his normal tone of calmness. He could do this. He'd done his once, he could do it again.
The door opened and there was a sharp inhale. Eyeri glanced over. The other medic had a look of horrified surprise on his face. Eyeri glanced down at his scarred torso, the ice inside of this chest suddenly making itself known again. Normally he was ashamed. Normally he was embarrassed and wanted to hide in a ball somewhere. Today? Today he was angry. "What? You already heard me speak the language, are you really that surprised by these?" Eyeri challenged, gesturing at them. The look on the man's face could best be described as hopeless, clearly uncertain as to what to say next.
He was not going to let his past as a slave pick his future.