I wake in Entho’s clinic, lying on one of the cots. I groan, painfully reaching for my head, and attempt to sit up. Entho is hovering over me – quickly placing a pillow behind my back. I blink my eyes several times, and it appears that he has two heads, two blurry moving heads, and four brown eyes. His thin nose is really two noses and as he speaks, two mouths move.
“Here, here, drink this,” he tells me, his words echoing as if they were coming at me from the end of a long tunnel. He places my mother’s cup to my lips, two green dragons flying in a blurry circle. I try to wrap my fingers around the cup but can’t seem to manage this simple task. He helps me hold the cup, and I swallow obediently, gulping the bitter brew. My head is pounding as if someone were taking a club to it and banging it repeatedly from the inside. Ringing sounds explode in my ears. I take another sip and lean back into the pillows.
“You have a concussion,” Entho explains, his words still warbling in my ears. “And seventeen stitches in the back of your head. But you’ll be fine.” He holds the cup to my lips, and I take another drink and lean back against the soft, clean pillow.
“It’s a good thing Reese was there,” Entho tells me. My eyes shoot open wide and I groan. I am trying to say, “NO,” but it just won’t come out.
Entho continues. “He got help right away when you tripped and fell into that statue.” I want to interrupt, to tell Entho that it was Reese who pushed me, with more force than humanly possible. But I know it is futile. Reese’s father is the mayor of Bay City, and even though he and Entho aren’t friends any more, Entho holds a strange loyalty to Reese’s dad.
I close my eyes, casting the image of Reese’s father that day in the school yard into my mind…the hatred in his eyes…calling the Destroyers over to Canto and me. Taking Reese away from me…forever.
Sometimes I wonder about Entho. For a smart man, a healer with so much training, he certainly should have figured out that if I had tripped, it would have been the front of my head that was injured, not the back. Unless, of course, I was walking backward…which I wasn’t.
His voice muffles in my ears, like a bird chirping from far away. “An Administrator came right away, wrapped your head, and brought you here.” He tenderly takes a cloth and wipes my forehead. “Thank the Angels! Drink up now. You’ll be feeling better soon.”
I do. Within a few hours I can see clearly and can talk. But my head still pounds and I am very tired. To top it off, Entho won’t let me sleep. I am under “OBSERVATION.” I drink a cup of the medicine every few hours and then, when all the patients have left the clinic and it is quiet, Entho takes me up to my room, gently helping me up the steps and tucking me into bed. I sleep deeply.
I wake the next morning with a hammering head and orders from Entho that I am to stay in bed. The hours tick by slowly, and I feel like I might just jump out of my skin. I decide to sneak into Entho’s room and find a dragon book, shoving my blanket aside and placing my bare feet on the cold stone floor, when I hear the faint squeak of someone coming up the stairs. I twist back into bed quickly, which causes my stomach to churn and my head to spin. Just in time, I pull my covers over me.
Entho steps in, bringing me meat broth and eggs, the bitter brew, and a thick black book. The Book of Healing Volume 1. The letters are gold and swirly and fancy.
“What is this for?” I ask.
“I just thought you might be getting bored.” He pats my hand and kisses me on the cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Bored,” I reply.
“That’s good news,” he answers, turning to leave. “I’ll return in a while. I have patients backed up to the street today.” And then he is gone, leaving me in silence with the weight of a book I am not interested in on my lap.
Eventually, after staring into space for the longest time, I open the book, just because there is nothing better to do. It starts with an introduction – a general description of healing, how it is a choice and the great rewards you get as a healer. Blah. Blah. Blah. Then it is divided into sections. Anatomy. Medicines. Herbs. First Aid. Toxins. Patient Communication. Power. I start with anatomy. It is not as interesting as dragon anatomy, but it certainly holds my attention. Several hours pass, and Entho brings me lunch and more medicine, checking my bandage and stitches.
“How’s the book?” he asks, a smirk on his face. He knows how much I love to read. I glance up, feeling like I have been tricked.
“Interesting,” I respond. He kisses my forehead and returns to the clinic.
Three days pass like this. I am starting Volume 2. It is a detailed anatomy book and thicker than the first volume. It has wonderful hand drawn pictures in faded colors of the human body. I can see where someone has drawn the bones and named them… along with the nerves and the muscles. It labels every part of the body by the picture. There is one page dedicated to the hand. Another to the arm. The leg, the foot, and so on.
Entho brings me broth and eggs, as usual, but I no longer need any medicine. We have fallen into a routine. I peek my head out from the book.
“How about you get dressed and come help me in the clinic?” he offers.
I have never thought much about helping Entho…have never been interested in healing. But I have had enough lying around.
“OK,” I say hesitantly.
Entho smiles. “I’ll be right back. Waiting for him, I stretch, listening to his footsteps trail into his bedroom.
When he returns he hands me a thick white robe, as if he were presenting me with something precious, like a jewel. I raise my eyebrows. “I can wear this?”
“Sure,” he answers. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Stiffly, I get out of bed and stretch languorously. It seems like my muscles have been hibernating and don’t want to cooperate, rigid and angry at the movement. I totter to the wash room and clean up, brush my hair and finally pull the white healer’s robe over my head. It is soft, like cotton, and it smells like Entho – soapy, and clean with just a hint of medicine and herbs.
Chapter 9