CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

Gantalla held the door to the hospital open, allowing Nalyx to step inside, then followed him in. The entrance hall was wide, with a desk on one side of the room and a long row of chairs on the other. A number of other people sat on the chairs; a man with a bloody bandage around his leg; a woman with a swelling on the side of her face; a pregnant lady with two young children fidgeting restlessly in the chairs beside her.

Nalyx headed for the desk. “Bandage change,” he said simply, holding up his hands, and the nurse at the desk smiled at him. “Take a seat. I’ll put you on the list. It shouldn’t be more than half an hour until someone can see you.”

He nodded, then led Gantalla over to the row of chairs.

“Is this sort of thing common?” Gantalla asked Nalyx, as they both took a seat. “There was no hospital in my hometown. Okay, so it wasn’t a very large town,” she amended quickly. For all she knew, hospitals were commonplace in the human world, and she might well sound odd for not knowing that. But back in Ranaka, there had been no such place. Anyone who was injured went to see the local witch, or if the injury was severe, to one of the mages.

“Not really,” Nalyx said. “The bigger cities usually have one, but they’re nothing like as big or as fancy as this. This one’s mostly because we have the gate. A lot of warriors are injured on a regular basis and we need somewhere to treat them. And then, since it’s here, the rest of the townsfolk make use of it as they need it. Most towns just have a healer or a herbalist and make do the best they can with that. But we’ve got five doctors and twelve nurses. Palashran’s got a hospital, but it’s only got two doctors. We’re very lucky.”

“Have you been injured before?”

Nalyx shrugged, intending to brush the question aside… but then he reconsidered. Most of the townsfolk would look down on him if he admitted to getting himself injured, seeing it as a failing as a warrior, but he was rapidly learning that Gantalla had quite a different view of the world. “A few times,” he said. “Mostly just superficial cuts. But during one of my first cycles at the gate, I got stabbed. Green demon, small but quick. I spent a week in bed with a raging infection. Thought I was going to die at one point. But the herbalists here are pretty special. They got the infection under control, and somehow I managed to pull through.” He looked sideways at her. “What about you? Ever been badly injured?”

“No. Never. One of my brothers broke his arm as a child. He fell out of a tree. But it healed well.” Being the king, her father had sent for the town mage, and the man had spent three hours casting spells over the boy, finally reporting to her father that the arm was set, and then going on his way with a bag of gold for his efforts. But so far, Gantalla had neither seen nor heard any hint of magic in this human world, so she left out that part of the story.

“Most of the injuries here are pretty minor, if you don’t count the ones from the warriors. Someone burned themselves in a fire, or an axe slipped and cut their leg.” He nodded to where the pregnant woman was scolding her child. “They’ve got a birthing ward, as well. That’s a big thing for the women. A lot of women die in childbirth, but here, they manage to save at least half of the ones who run into trouble.”

Gantalla felt a flush of warmth at the knowledge. The humans weren’t all barbarians and savages, then. If they took the time to look after their women and children, perhaps that made up for some of the slaughter that happened at the gate? After all, the women who had carted away the dead bodies had said they believed the warriors kept them safe. How odd it all was, seeing the other side of the situation. But nonetheless, Gantalla felt uncomfortable about it. In Chalandros, most people believed the humans were brutal and unfeeling. And here, the humans believed her own people were demons. How different might their two worlds be if they ever managed to see things from another perspective?

Suddenly, the front door burst open and a frantic woman rushed inside. “Help me! My boy’s dying! Help me! Somebody, he’s choking!” She was carrying a small child in her arms, screaming hysterically. The nurse at the desk leapt up and ran over to her, and a moment later, two more nurses rushed in from down the hall. One of them took one look at the limp boy in the woman’s arms and immediately turned around.

“I’ll get a doctor,” she called, as she sprinted for the hallway.

“Easy. Let them do their job,” Nalyx said, planting an arm in front of Gantalla, and Gantalla realised she was on her feet, her heart pounding.

“Give him here,” the nurse from the desk said. She took the boy in her arms and tipped him forward, striking his back hard. “What’s he choking on?”

“We were eating over in the square,” the boy’s mother said, tears streaming down her face. “He was eating a grape, then he started choking.”

The nurse shoved her fingers into the boy’s mouth, but came up with nothing.

The door to the hallway opened and a man rushed through, with greying hair and a wrinkled face. “Let me see him,” he ordered, and the nurses parted. He took the boy and laid him out on the floor. He was a tiny thing, and Gantalla guessed he could only be about five years old. Her heart broke for the woman. To lose a child so young was horrendous.

The doctor held his hand above the boy’s mouth, feeling for breath, then bent down and pressed his ear to his chest. The boy’s mother, along with the nurses, waited for long seconds, expressions of horror frozen on all their faces.

Then the doctor sat back, his entire body sagging. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. “He’s gone to join the gods.”

“No!” the woman screamed. “He’s not dead. You have to save him! He’s my only boy! You have to save him!” She lashed out, battering the doctor about his shoulders, but he merely shook his head.

“I’m sorry. He’s not breathing. There’s nothing I can do.”

Before she’d even realised she was moving, Gantalla found herself marching across the room, and she actually shoved one of the nurses aside. “How long ago did he choke?” she asked the woman.

“Gantalla! Leave him be,” she heard Nalyx shout at her.

“Not two minutes ago. We were only across the street, in the town square.”

Though the nurse had already done so, Gantalla stuck her fingers in the boy’s mouth, finding nothing inside that might have choked him. She picked him up, turning him upside down, then, supporting his body with her knee, she struck him hard right between his shoulder blades, once, twice, three times.

A small, green object flew out of his mouth and landed on the floor. Gantalla had no idea what a ‘grape’ was, but this object looked just the right size and shape to choke a small child.

She set him back on the floor, lying on his back, and knelt down. Then she placed her hands over his heart and thrust downwards.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the doctor demanded.

Gantalla didn’t answer. She couldn’t use her full weight, she remembered, since this was only a child, but she set up a rapid rhythm, shoving her palms against his chest, right over where his heart would be. Once she’d counted to thirty, she paused, covering the boy’s mouth with her own and puffing a breath into his lungs. She was careful not to breathe too much air into him. His lungs would be a lot smaller than hers. Then she started pumping his chest again.

“Get the hell away from him,” the doctor ordered, but out of the corner of her eye, Gantalla saw Nalyx step between her and the doctor.

“Let her work,” he said, calm and commanding.

“What’s she trying to do?” the doctor asked, sounding aghast.

“I don’t know,” Nalyx said. “But she seems to know what she’s doing, so I suggest we let her do it.”

Praise the gods for his faith in her. Gantalla continued the rapid pulses, then gave the boy another two breaths. This was not magic, she’d learned years ago. Not even the mages could return the dead to life. But sometimes, if the spirit had not long left, it could be persuaded to return to the body.

The woman was muttering prayers, and Gantalla silently added her own to the mix, though she didn’t know if her own gods were the same ones who ruled the human world. Would Arix, the Life-bringer, see fit to heal a human boy? She was willing to ask, just in case.

Another minute dragged by, with the boy lying still and pale beneath her… and then that small body suddenly seized, a harsh cough dragged up from the boy’s lungs.

Quickly, she turned him onto his side, and she realised that tears were running down her face as the boy took in a shuddering breath. He coughed again, his little arms flailing weakly.

“Let him breathe,” she snapped, as the doctor tried to crowd her. She held the boy’s head in her hands, neck tilted back, and then he went limp. But he was breathing, small, harsh sounds filling the room.

Gantalla waited a moment longer, then moved aside to let the boy’s mother come to him.

“Steven? Steven, can you hear me?” The boy moaned. His mother took his hand, and he gripped her tightly.

“By the gods, he’s alive. He’s alive!” the woman cried, a fresh flood of tears streaming down her face. “Praise the gods. And praise you, too,” she said, gaping up at Gantalla. “You saved my boy.”

“By the gods, I’ve never seen anything like it,” the doctor said. He was standing to the side, looking pale and distraught. He looked Gantalla over. “What did you do?”

“If the body can’t breathe, the heart stops,” Gantalla recited, just as she’d been taught years ago. “I pressed his heart, to make it beat for him, and put air in his lungs. And sometimes, that makes the body start working again.” She felt a thread of fear. Would the humans understand? Would they see this as some forbidden magic?

“That’s absolutely genius,” the doctor said. “I’d never have thought of it. Great gods, it’s pure genius!”

“We should get him into the ward,” one of the nurses prompted him, and the doctor shook himself, as if waking from a dream.

“Of course. Right this way.” He picked up the boy and hurried away, the nurses and the boy’s mother scurrying along behind.

Once they were gone, Gantalla took a deep breath, wiping the tears from her face. She looked up to see Nalyx staring down at her, awe written all over his face. “Where on earth did you learn to do that?” he asked.

“I had a nanny when I was a young girl,” Gantalla said. She stood up, though her legs felt unsteady and her hands were shaking. “She taught me. One of the girls from the town drowned in the river. My nanny did the same thing and made her heart start beating again. And then my father decreed that she should teach everyone in the pala… the estate how to do it as well.”

Nalyx’s face broke into a wide grin. “You’re absolutely incredible.”

Gantalla blushed, feeling a smile tug at her lips. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

◊          ◊          ◊

Half an hour later, Nalyx sat in one of the consulting rooms, trying not to flinch as a nurse carefully rewrapped his hands. Gantalla had disappeared off somewhere a while ago, and then his name had been called, and he’d followed this nurse to a treatment room. She was a cantankerous old woman by the name of Gosta. He’d run into her a couple of times in the past, and due to her poor temperament, he generally tried to avoid her.

But with the drama about the choking boy, he wasn’t likely to be given a choice as to which nurse saw him today, so he resolved to make the best of it.

“How’s the pain?” Gosta was saying. She was a short, plump woman with salt-and-pepper grey hair pulled back into a tight bun. “On a scale of one to ten?”

Nalyx considered his answer. “About a four,” he said. Perhaps pride should have made him say a two, but he decided to opt for honesty. In the end, he needed full use of his hands again, and being unable to fight would be a far worse blow to his pride than admitting that the burns still hurt.

“Not bad,” Gosta said, securing the last bandage with a small clip. “You’re lucky, in a way. I’ve seen a fair few burns from unicorns over the years. Oddly enough, the flames aren’t that hot. Nothing like the sort of injury you’d get from grabbing a poker from a fire, for example. Your burns were fairly superficial, which means we should be able to leave the wrapping off after another two or three days.”

Nalyx bristled under her condescending sympathy. Not that hot? Fuck her, he thought blackly. He’d fought a demon horse spat straight from the bowels of hell. Who the fuck was she to say it wasn’t a big deal?

“But continue keeping them dry, and make sure you don’t do anything that could abrade the skin,” Gosta went on. “It’s healing underneath, but it’s going to be fragile for a while yet.”

“I’ll be fine,” Nalyx said, hopping off the stool.

“Do you need any more pain relief?”

“No,” Nalyx said, though his shoulder was throbbing again. “It’s all good.”

“If you find the pain gets worse, try some willow bark tea. I don’t think it’s bad enough to need more opium, but the hospital’s open until nine o’clock tonight, if you need to come back.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said again.

“Fair enough. Wait here, and I’ll see where your escort got to. Rumour has it she’s become quite the celebrity around here.” Gosta disappeared out the door, leaving Nalyx snarling in her wake. He was the warrior here. He was the one who killed demons and risked his life to keep the city safe. He should be the celebrity.

But despite his irritation, he couldn’t manage to muster much in the way of anger for Gantalla’s role today. Gods above, she’d actually brought a little boy back from the dead. He’d never seen anything like that before in his life.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, and Gantalla stepped through. She smiled as she saw him, and he noted she was looking tired, but excited. “Hey. How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Great. Looking forward to getting back to the festival tonight. I suppose you’ll be on your way now?” Did he sound bitter? He didn’t mean to.

“Actually, I need to stay here for a while,” she said. “The doctors want me to teach them how to do what I did for that boy. They’re calling it the heart restarter. They want all the nurses to learn it, too.” She looked bashfully pleased about the idea.

“Looks like we’ve messed up your plans to leave town, then.”

Gantalla blushed. “Yes, well… It’s all for a good cause, I suppose.”

He felt the urge to snarl at her, but managed to bite it back. “Right. Well, then…”

“I’ll come back to the festival tonight,” she said, though she sounded hesitant about it. “I mean, if you want me to…”

Fuck. Gantalla had done nothing wrong, and there was no reason to be taking his irritation out on her. “Sorry,” he said, feeling like an ass. “I’m just frustrated. Not being able to use my hands.” He held up his new bandages, grateful for the excuse to explain his bad mood.

Gantalla nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure she bought his excuse. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tonight.”