A Little Knowledge

When Martel woke on Malday, he did not feel better. Even though he had both slept yesterday afternoon and now through the night, he still felt tired. And despite the mild weather of late summer, he was cold the moment he pushed his blankets away. He really wished he could simply lie back into his bed, but he had breakfast duty and needed to report to the kitchen. He dragged himself there only for the matron in charge to cast one look at him and command him to leave, lest he got everyone sick. In a haze, Martel did not respond or think much, but simply turned around. Yet despite this reprieve, moving around had woken him up, and he could not return to slumber. So when second bell rang, he got out of bed to attend his healing class. Perhaps something in the apothecary could liven him up as well.

Once he arrived with the other novices, they gave him a few glances and stepped away. "Martel? What's the matter with you, boy?" asked Sister Grace.

"I don't feel well." As if to underline this, Martel had to cough. "I could use some tea or something."

She turned her eyes upwards. "You're supposed to learn the signs of illness by working here, you daft boy. Tea won't help. Come along, let's get you into bed," she fussed.

Moments later, Martel found himself lying down again. This time, he managed to drift in and out of a feverish sleep, no longer aware of what took place around him.

~

A hand shook Martel awake. He blinked, confused about his surroundings. His room was not this big, nor did it contain all these people. He had also suffered from strange dreams, leaving him further bewildered.

"Boy? Do you know who I am?"

Martel turned his head towards the speaker. He found a blue robe to his right, and as his eyes travelled upwards, they reached the face of a man who looked vaguely familiar. He strained his mind to overcome its feverish haze until it finally gave him the answer. "Master Kelsos," he croaked.

"Yes. Your symptoms seem to be a fever and fatigue. The nurses tell me that you cough up blood. Any other symptoms?"

Martel looked at the small table next to his bed, on which lay a rag with red stains. He did not even remember that. "I'm not sure."

"Appetite? When did you last eat?"

Martel did his best to recall. "Yesterday. Breakfast, I think."

The healer frowned briefly. "Those symptoms suggest consumption. Certainly something in your lungs."

Even through his delirious state, Martel knew this was a dangerous disease. His own town had always been spared, but he had heard tales of other places where it killed with impunity. He wanted to ask for help, for medicine, but he could not form the words.

"Well, we can't have you infecting others." Abruptly, Master Kelsos placed his hand on Martel's sweaty forehead. A blue glow appeared around the healer's fingers.

To Martel, it felt like being lowered into a warm bath. The ache and weariness faded away, as did the feverish sensation of being too hot and too cold at the same time. The haze left his mind, and he could breathe freely again.

"There we are." Master Kelsos' hand shook slightly as he withdrew it. "Don't get infected again." And with that, as if they had finished a simple conversation about the weather, the healer walked away, looking only slightly strained.

~

The nurses insisted that Martel remained in bed, even if he felt fine and saw no reason for it. He was mindful that Mistress Rana did not accept excuses for missing his work in the apothecary. While being sick with consumption might have proved an exception, he was no longer sick. He waited until the nurses were occupied with other patients and made his escape, quickly getting into the workshop.

"It has already been a while since the bell rang." The Mistress of Alchemy stood in the apothecary, going through cupboards. "Did you come from a distant part of the castle?"

"No, mistress. Today, I assist in the infirmary, so it is a short walk. But the nurses would not let me leave before now."

"I did not realise that the assistance of novices was so integral to the running of the infirmary." His teacher straightened up and sent him a sharp look.

The door between the sick ward and the apothecary burst open, and Sister Grace barged in. "Martel, you return right now – forgive me, Mistress Rana."

The stern alchemist looked at the nurse. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Martel has been sick. He's supposed to be resting."

The teacher looked at the novice. "He seems fine to me."

"Master Kelsos healed him," the nurse explained.

Mistress Rana gave him a scrutinising look. "Leave us." Once the sister had gone, closing the door behind her, she spoke again. "Explain."

"Master Kelsos thinks I had consumption. But I feel fine now!" Martel hurried to add.

"How, and more pertinently where, did you manage to contract consumption?"

"In the copper lanes." Martel was tempted to say nothing more, but it finally occurred to him that if this disease had come from any of the children, they were in danger too. And none of them would be brought to the infirmary to be healed at the touch. "Can something be done? For others with this illness, I mean. Those who got me sick… They need help too."

"And why was a respectable student of the Lyceum in the copper lanes?" She locked eyes with him.

"Some of them are sick. The children, orphans. I just wanted to help." The words stumbled out of his mouth. "So I brought them some herbs and salves. But I made and paid for everything myself, I didn't steal anything!"

"Did you charge them for your services?" she asked sharply.

"No, I gave it all to them for free."

"At least your intentions were good. But I hope you see how a little knowledge can be more dangerous than none," she impressed upon him. "You contracted a dangerous disease. Be thankful you are at the Lyceum, one of the few places with the skills and knowledge to help you."

"I am," Martel mumbled. "What about the kids? Some of them need a cure just like me."

She gave him a long look. "We'll see. If I know Master Kelsos right, he is preparing to test others at the school who might have been exposed to this illness by you. He'll be around any moment, I suspect, asking for certain alchemical items to aid in this. So get to work, boy, and undo the harm you might have caused."

His mood low, Martel quietly followed her instructions to help prepare the tools for Master Kelsos.