The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 08

"The leer works every time," he grinned, also wincing, taking a swig from another canteen that he was offered. "I must admit that I don't remember you, for which I apologize. My colleagues and I had to treat a lot of casualties after the battles, and it all became one big, bloody blur." He scratched his head. "Are you going to be all right? I could Heal some of those cuts once I get myself back together."

"I'll be OK," Mara replied at Kelsey's questioning glance. "Believe it or not, it actually feels pretty good to get beaten up. Endorphins or something."

"I think that there are some people who could use a Healing touch," said Arthur, his voice a pleasing tenor, "provided that finding out that you went toe-to-toe with Mara doesn't scare them off." They all chuckled. "Do you heal animals?" he added hopefully.

"I've already told him about Carfax," Lydia interjected, appearing seemingly from thin air.

"I am a veterinarian too," Harold nodded, and the other three brightened noticeably. "I was one of the many people in Carcosa responsible for keeping all of the horses in good shape. I'm sure that I can help Carfax with his sore foot, once I've had a chance to rest and heal up a bit from my, uh, little workout. Bollocks! Speaking of lame, look what you did to my ankle!" The ankle had swollen up and was looking rather red. He closed his eyes, took two deep, slow breaths and the three others could feel something shift. He said some words and made a few gestures with his hands and his right hand began to glow faintly in forest green and turquoise. He bent down, traced a pattern with red, brown, light blue and dark blue lines on the swelling and said another word, and the swollen area glowed in the same colours, then began to subside. "You sure you don't want me to at least treat your cuts?" he offered to Mara.

"OK, sure," she replied. "This one on my right arm will make it harder to get work done until it heals." It was long, but superficial, along the outside of the forearm. He traced it with his glowing index finger, and it glowed briefly and then knitted itself together.

"Cleaned and Sterilized against infection and as good as new," he said cheerfully. "I hope that you feed your staff well," he added to Kelsey as he and she walked over to where his things were. Mara put on her bra, shirt, socks and boots, which were near the stairs to the ring, and he put on his socks and boots, then his neck protector and hat, shouldered his pack with a grunt of discomfort, and grabbed his staff. Kelsey excused herself to get back to the endless amount of work that she had to deal with.

"The Army Company's Mages would have eaten us out of house and home," Mara said as they walked rather slowly up the street, heading for the tent where the staff were served their meals. The crowd made way for them, giving both the Healer and Mara wide-eyed stares and congratulations.

"Manipulating Magic is a big strain on the brain and requires a lot of energy," he explained.

"And what goes in, must come out," added Mara darkly. "Filling our latrines with shit too!" They all laughed and winced as they passed a ring toss booth, where a girl of about eight with long, blonde hair managed to get a ring around a green bottle.

"And the girl wins a prize!" announced the booth's keeper, a wiry man with red hair fading to white, with a big smile. "What would you like?" He indicated a shelf with an array of stuffed toys.

"I would like the white rabbit, please," she said, pointing to one, and the man retrieved and handed it to her.

"Take good care of it and give it lots of love," he advised as her parents made to move on.

"Mister Bun needs a playmate," she said, holding up a rather grubby and ramshackle rabbit, which had clearly been the recipient of lots of loving.

"Mister Bun needs to be thrown in the trash," said her father. "The poor thing is falling apart."

"Maybe I can help," Harold offered, drawing their attention with some surprise. "May I have a look at Mister Bun, Miss?" he asked the girl, getting on one knee to bring his head to her level.

"OK, Mister," she said, after looking at her parents for permission, handing him the bunny.

"The love of a cherished Bunny will remain with you for the rest of your life," he said, somehow audible even over the noise of the fair. "But sometimes the Bunny needs a little help." He hit it with a combination of Clean and Sterilize, making a big cloud of dust and grime poof out and causing them all to cough. He then traced lines around the joins between the arms, legs, head, and tail of the rabbit to its body, and the ears to the head, making it whole again. After many emergency Repairs of broken axles and other things, fixing a Bunny was a piece of cake. "Here you go. He's all ready to be loved and to play with your new Bunny." The girl's eyes lit up as she held both of them tight.

"Thank you very much, uh, sir," said her mother. "This means more to her than you know." Her eyes, and those of her husband, were shining with barely-suppressed tears.

"Enjoy your time at the fair!" said Arthur as the family waved and moved into the crowd. Harold grunted as he stood up, leaned on his staff, and looked in the direction where the family had disappeared.

"There's a story there, isn't there?" he asked as they resumed their trip to the mess tent. "That bunny is a substitute for someone."

"Traveling fairs move in circuits around a set of towns, and ours is no exception," said Lydia as they approached a rope that was tied to a set of waist-high poles that marked the perimeter of the area that was supposed to be off-limits to visitors. They stepped over it, with Harold using his staff to maintain his balance due to his pack, and they carried on, weaving between tents and their ropes and buckets of dirt and water, kept handy for fire control. "She had an older brother who died two years ago of some weird brain cancer. There's a Healer in town, and she did what she could, but it was one of those ones like an octopus that got everywhere. She won her Mister Bun when we came here after the death, and has apparently taken him everywhere ever since, even to school."

"Nobody makes fun of her for it," Arthur added soberly as the large pavilion that was the mess tent came into sight. "It still hurts, even now." It was half an hour before dinner, and several tables were occupied, but there was a good one relatively close to the kitchen that they occupied. The Healer's backpack hit the ground with a thump, followed by his bottom hitting the seat of a well-worn wooden chair with another. He leaned his staff against the edge of the table to his right and rubbed his eyes.

"My older sister Vera was twelve and I was ten when she died of leukemia," he said softly, his eyes lost in memory and his expression as bleak as a midwinter's day. "We had a village Healer, but he was old and didn't have the strength to cast the spells to get rid of it completely, though the Goddess knows that he tried. My parents and I loaned him strength, but it was one of the most pernicious of the cancers and needed more than we could offer to kill it. So, it eventually killed her, and nearly killed us emotionally. I made a point of learning how to treat leukemia and its loathsome cousins, and every cure I've made has been dedicated to her." A waitress emerged from the kitchen area and approached their table.

"Hi, Wendy," Mara said, dabbing her eyes with a shirt sleeve. "What's on the menu today?" Wendy was five-foot-ten, solidly built like most of the Northlanders but with curves in all the right places, had a round face with a cheerful expression and dark blue eyes that seemed to assess Harold in a glance.

"Lots of roast beef, some chicken, some locally-grown cabbage, plus the usual carrots-potato-turnip-beet mash," she replied in a strong voice, clearly accustomed to making herself heard in noisy environments. "We even have a couple of chocolate cakes that a local bakery sold us."

"Coffee, too?" Harold added hopefully. "Preferably black," he added with a wink. Wendy nodded.

"Don't let him charm you," Lydia warned, ignoring a glower from the Mage. The two exchanged a look and Wendy nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I watched you two going at it in the ring," Wendy replied with a grin. "I'm surprised that you even made it this far after what you were doing to each other." Arthur and Lydia ordered the beef dinner, while Harold and Mara ordered chicken. All needed coffee and water. "Coming right up." Harold yawned, stretched, and pretended to not check out her gently swaying ass as she returned to the kitchen.

"Ah, those wandering eyes," Mara snickered and the others joined in at his look of innocence. Lydia's hot stare at him made him twitch slightly as he realized that wandering eyes might lead to a wandering fist directed at a part of his anatomy where fists should not be wandering.

"Yes, dear," he said meekly, getting more laughs and Lydia reddened.

"I guess that I'm not a subtle as I thought," she mused to herself as Wendy arrived and efficiently delivered the water and coffee.

"They're just pulling some things out of the ovens," she said cheerfully. "I'll be back in a few minutes." She looked down and said, "Well, hello there." They looked down or peered across the table to see a medium-sized, medium-haired dog of definitely mixed heritage. Its fur was black, white, and tan in patches of various sizes, and looked well-fed and friendly. It put its right paw on Harold's left thigh and stared adoringly at him.

"I don't have any food and he's already giving me the sad puppy eyes," said the Mage, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. The dog moaned as he found the Spot That Must Be Scratched and leaned into his hand.

"This is Mooch," said Arthur dryly. "And as you can tell by his svelte figure, he's a pro." Harold had to stop to drink some coffee and water and give his fingers, still aching a bit from the fight, a rest.

"I'll give you a little something that's better than food," he said. He closed his eyes, summoned his Magic, and gave Mooch a shot of Clean and Flea Buster, which poofed his fur out and sent a few small sparks shooting away, leaving small smoke trails.

"He's about twelve years old, we think," Mara offered. "He came around one day in another town as a half-grown, very hungry pup and we just couldn't say no to those eyes."

"Hmm, I see he's starting to get cataracts," he replied, seeing the tell-tale hint of milkiness in his eyes. "I can fix that too." He said some more words in a strange language, made some motions with his hands, then held his glowing index fingers in front of the dog's eyes. Two sparks jumped from the finger tips and Mooch shook his head, whuffed, and opened his eyes, which were now clear. He looked around in amazement at the world that was suddenly much clearer. He barked loudly, making them all jump, then tore off at top speed, charging between tents and ropes, barking and wagging his tail. "Another satisfied customer," concluded the Mage, having another drink of coffee.

"OK, you seem to have established your veterinary credentials," said Arthur dryly as Wendy emerged from the kitchen area holding a very promising platter, "while at the same time getting Mooch and his sad puppy eyes away from our table."

"He'll be back," Lydia replied, shaking her head. "You have made a Friend for Life."

"Animals make better patients than many humans," Harold stated with an impish twinkle in his eyes as he cleared space for his plate that Wendy placed in front of him. "They don't try to lure me into their beds." This was an oft-repeated line, but always to a new audience each time, and it was always good for a few chuckles. He pretended to ignore Lydia's stare.

"You'd better not be flirting with me, bub," Wendy remarked, hands on her attractively curved hips and a mock scowl on her face.

"Nah, too much competition from the other suitors." That got laughs from the others and made her turn a bit pink.

"Enjoy your dinner," she said dryly, going to check on another table.

"A silver-tongued rascal, too," Mara commented as they started eating.

"It usually gets me into more trouble than it gets me out of," he replied, washing his food down with some water. "And it's more fun that the usual cheesy lines, like 'I must be an astronomer because I'm seeing a heavenly body'." That got some muffled snickers.

"My favourite is 'You're so hot, I need oven mitts'," said Arthur around a mouthful of roast beef. The two women shook their heads and rolled their eyes. "It works every time."

"Like when you just have to get yourself a black eye?" asked Lydia, waving a not insignificantly-sized fist at him, getting laughs from the others. It only took them ten minutes to clean their plates and empty their mugs and glasses. At Harold's request, they stacked them in the middle of the table and he Cleaned them, making a loud clatter that made them all jump, including him. Mooch had reappeared halfway through dinner and Harold had offered him a piece of chicken that he explained had a spell called Worm Buster.

"I've earned many a night's stay at an inn with the Clean spell," he said as Wendy came over to see what was going on, and her eyes widened at the gleaming items. "My compliments to the cooks," he continued as she transferred their things to her tray. "That was the best dinner I've had in a long time."

"If you come back here after dinner and work your Magic on the dishes, the kitchen team will give you a blow job you'll never forget." The Healer turned a shade of red while the others laughed.

"After a waddle to the privy, we should go look after your horse." The privies were located near the centre of the area in which the tents were pitched and consisted of two long wooden structures that each had six doors.

"I have work to do," said Mara, once they had reassembled. "Arthur is the chief horse wrangler and is far better qualified to show you around than we are."

"I'll come with you, if you don't mind," said Lydia. "I want to see you work your Magic, Harold, and Carfax will be happy to see me."

"Let's ask the kitchen crew if they can spare a carrot for a bribe for the horse," Harold suggested. "A little snack always goes a long way when introducing yourself." The others nodded.

"I was just about to suggest that," Arthur replied as Mara turned and limped stiffly away and they made their way to the kitchen. Because it was a warm day, all of the sides were rolled up so that any stray breezes could blow through. A half-dozen stoves in a style made for easy transportation were arranged in a line and their chimneys were smoking as large pots bubbled and steamed on top of them. A large, permanent hearth had beef roasting on it and pieces had already been cut off, presumably to serve to the folks who had already eaten. The spit was being turned by a puffing contraption whose steam was being generated from pipes that were in the bottom and sides of the hearth. An array of tables behind the stoves held cutting boards and knives of various shapes and sizes and were being manned by a team of four women and two men who appeared to be moving in a well-choreographed routine. "Hey, Millie," he addressed the nearest woman, who was busily chopping a carrot. She looked up at the two men, who were standing a respectful distance away from the kitchen crew. She had blonde hair carefully tied back behind her head and, like the others, wore a lightweight hat to keep stray hairs out of the food. "Please give me a carrot. Harold here is going to have a look at Carfax and he needs a bribe."

"Sure thing, Arthur," she replied, as she and the others gave the Mage, who was wearing his pack and holding his staff in his left hand, a good look. Arthur watched as the two of them got strange expressions on their faces as they looked at each other. She got a carrot from a basket and handed it to him.

"Why do I feel your presence somehow?" she asked Harold in a surprisingly clear voice. "I can see you, but I'm sensing something like... power. A lot of it." She looked confused. Despite the strength of his power, it wasn't intimidating at all. It felt warm and comforting, like the hearth on a cold day.

"It's because you're a Mage," he responded, looking astonished. "You aren't very strong with the Magic, but you definitely have it. How old are you, if you'll pardon my asking?"

"I'm nineteen. I started getting these odd sensations, like knowing what the weather was going to be and what the phase of the moon is, about two years ago."

"That's very interesting," Harold replied thoughtfully, rubbing his stubbled chin. "Mages come into their powers on average at about fifteen, with the stronger ones a bit earlier and the less strong a little later. I won't keep you from your duties, but after you're done, we should have a talk. I'm Harold Moser, Healer at Large, by the way." He offered a fist bump and, after a pause, she accepted it. "I have a horse to Heal, but I'll be around."

"Thank you, Healer Harold. I feel better already," she said, looking and sounding relieved. "I'm not a freak after all?"

"Oh, heavens, no," he replied with a grin. "We're perfectly normal, most of the time." He crossed his eyes, made a silly face, then did his best impression of a drooling hunchback, dragging his left foot behind him and saying "Aaarrgh!" Millie and the others, including Arthur, laughed at his antics.

"You could give our clown a few lessons," chuckled Arthur, bopping him on the head with his carrot and pulling him away. "Leave them to their work."

"Yes, Master. Igor obey Master!" he exclaimed as the kitchen staff continued to laugh as they left. Millie watched them leave before returning to her chopping. She felt like she was almost floating on air and her smile lit up the kitchen.

"I had a look around before I came to the wrestling ring," said the Healer, returning to normal as they made their way to the paddock. "This place looks like a permanent location."

"It is," Lydia replied. "All of the towns around here have fairgrounds on their outskirts. They serve as farmers' markets, playing fields, race tracks, and so on, when we aren't here, which is most of the time." Harold nodded as the paddock came into view.

"That makes sense. An operation like this must have a high overhead, and having a place to come to would be a help. If nothing else, you wouldn't have to re-dig the privies each time."

"Horses are expensive, especially the draft horses like this fellow that we need to pull the wagons with all our stuff in them. Food, firewood, and necessities for us and the horses, and maintenance and repairs for our gear also add up, not to mention the need to pay our staff," Arthur commented.

"Don't worry about paying me for anything," Harold reassured him as they stood on the other side of the fence in front of Carfax the horse, who was a chestnut brown on top with a white belly and lower legs. He was clearly favouring his right front foot and looking unhappy. "I work for food and board. The Kingdom pays me every so often to keep me solvent." He extended his hand for Carfax to sniff and then stroked his muzzle gently. "Here's a little something for you," he continued, offering the carrot, on which he had cast Worm Buster, which was greedily accepted. The two men got over the fence after Harold removed his pack and leaned his staff against it, while Lydia remained to pat the horse, who was clearly enjoying the attention. "OK, big fella, we're going to get a look at your sore foot," he continued soothingly as they positioned themselves by the fence on his right side.

"We were coming into the fairground yesterday afternoon when something happened. I think he must have stepped on a rock or something, because he stumbled and then was suddenly lame. We had to unhitch him from the wagon he was pulling and get him in here," said Lydia sadly.