To Paxaria: part 9.0

Review: Ruelle and her mentor Altha finally reach their destination in Eldgamel, the capital city, where Altha lives. This is Rue's first time in such a big place, and she is still harboring dreams to become a warrior, not a healer's apprentice. Shortly before entering the city, she jumped into a fray where some unruly Dwarves were fighting over some old grievance. Here in Eldgamel, Rue is sure she will finally get a chance to achieve her dreams. 

Disclaimer: If you see anything in brackets, it's something I forgot to edit out! Those are my first draft placeholders for stuff I need to figure out or change, etc. 

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If things had been interesting outside the gates, here they were absolutely captivating. Timber-and-stone buildings along the streets looked in decent condition, but they seemed undecided as to whether they'd form orderly rows or not. Farther in the distance, Ruelle caught sight of gleaming spires and glimpses of stained glass. A plethora of voices bounced all around, creating an auditory multitude and adding texture to the very visible crowd of very real people. Laughter rang out amid conversation from every direction, peppered with occasional shouts. A strain of music lilted in the background.

Amongst snippets of recognizable chatter, Ruelle’s ears also picked up on an array of languages and accents unfamiliar to her. And if that were not enough, the creak of wooden carts, the clatter of hooves on the cobblestone streets, and the scattered calls from merchants all blended into the general noise indicative of a densely populated place.

In spite of the fact that it was dusk by now, people still jostled about everywhere. They were a whole array of colors and textures in themselves, brightly patterned attire contrasting with simpler, rougher-textured garments at every turn. And yet regardless of their clothing, every face was a unique and fascinating picture. Light complexions mingled amongst dark, with all the in-between shades in the mix.

Some of the small people like Gnomes and Halflings had to push their way through their taller peers. Others, however, seemed quite accustomed to the traffic, and walked about assertively or else took advantage of their smallness, darting around and in between the bigger folk with practiced agility.

“It’s so alive here!” Ruelle breathed, struggling to take it all in at once. She felt like her head must be swiveling nonstop so she could see everything possible.

They were approaching a large square with a magnificent fountain in the middle of it, while from somewhere nearby, the cheerful notes of a pipe or flute floated on the evening breeze. A cluster of Halfling girls danced merrily to the tune, their curly locks bouncing around smiling faces. A handful of Gnome children giggled and chased each other around the fountain or stopped to toss in coins and flowers.

“People here sure don’t seem in a hurry to wrap up their business anytime soon,” Ruelle remarked, noting the peddlers who still occupied the square. “Don’t most people go home when evening falls?”

Altha gave a small, amused chuckle. “In Eldgamel, people are out and about at nearly all hours – at least in the main parts of the city. Many merchants do wrap it up at dusk, but others stay out later. And when the people who do business during the day go in at last, then it’s about the time for those who occupy the night markets to come out.”

Ruelle’s eyes widened, dancing with delight. “Night markets” was a combination of words she savored with wonder. Such things had always been little more than fantasies from the tall tales which drifted over to Whispertide from the mainland. Never before had they been within such realistic reach.

“It’s going to take me a while to learn the layout of this place,” Ruelle remarked as they progressed farther into the city. She figured it would take at least a day just to go through the entirety of Eldgamel, not to mention memorizing all the important locations. She craned her neck to peer down a street where wooden signs hanging over the doors of closed shops featured foreign characters along with words in the common language.

Just as they passed the quiet street, however, Ruelle’s mind registered something out of place.

“Wait!” she cried suddenly, grasping Altha’s arm. “We need to turn back!”

Altha gave her an incredulous look. “Whatever for?”

“I think something is wrong,” she said, a pucker forming between her brows. “I think someone was hurt back there. It looked like there was someone lying on the ground or something, but I couldn’t quite tell.”

At this, Altha lost no time in turning around the horse and cart, in spite of being in the middle of a city street. Fortunately, it was not very busy here at this time of day.

“It could well just be some drunkard passed out in the street,” Altha mentioned. “But still, I would rather be sure all is well.”

In just a moment, they were back at the spot where Ruelle thought she’d seen the person. Her eyes scanned the dimness swiftly.

“There!” she cried at once, pointing down the side street. Two or three doors down, a small heap lay motionless on a door stoop. It was definitely person-shaped.

Altha pulled to a halt. Ruelle scrambled down from the cart after her.

Swiftly making her way forward, she dropped to her knees on the cobblestones beside the crumpled figure. Altha crouched next to her.

In a heap of colorful patchwork fabric, a female Gnome lay awkwardly, as if she’d collapsed on the spot. She was breathing, but her eyes had fallen nearly shut.

“Why, it’s Twila!” Altha exclaimed. She reached for her wrist right away to check her pulse.

“You know her?” Ruelle observed. “Do you know what’s wrong?”

“She’s breathing, but unconscious,” Altha said. “Here, help me get her into a better position.”

It was not difficult to reposition the Gnome so that she was lying on her back. Ruelle looked into the still, young-ish face as Altha dug in her bag. She produced a curious-looking flat object which looked like a white stone, one almost crystalline in its clearness. It was actually very pretty, unlike the slender, shiny thing that looked too much like a sewing needle for Ruelle’s comfort.

“To answer your other question,” Altha said, “Yes, I do know her, and I think we can get her fixed up presently. I am almost certain her condition is due to a preexisting ailment that-“

Brisk footsteps cut off Altha’s words, and a voice called out, “Twila! Oh, wonderful, I’ve found you!”

Ruelle looked up to see another female Gnome on the scene. She appeared older than Twila, and concern mingled heavily with the relief in her countenance.

“Oh, dear!” she raised her hands to her face. “She’s had a spell again, and out here by herself, too. I was terribly afraid of that.”

Altha nodded and murmured in agreement. “Yes, that could be very dangerous. I’m glad we found her.”

She picked up Twila’s hand, and – to Ruelle’s great discomfort – stabbed the needle-looking instrument right into one of her fingers. A crimson drop of blood appeared almost immediately. Still holding Twila’s hand, Altha proceeded to apply the single blood drop right onto the center of the flat stone. Ruelle was astonished when the stone appeared to absorb the blood right into itself as a faint red shade spread throughout it.

“She’s always doing that, you know,” the older Gnome went on, evidently unfazed by the hand-stabbing. “Running off by herself, I mean. I know she is old enough to go out alone, but with this condition . . .” she trailed off.

Altha hummed in acknowledgement, but did not take her eyes off the flat stone. In fact, she seemed to be watching it quite intently. Wondering what it was supposed to do, Ruelle watched as well. Presently, the faint veins of red it had absorbed nearly vanished, only to be replaced by a blue shade that almost glowed.

“Very low,” Altha muttered, shaking her head. “Not good, but that explains what happened here, at least.”

“Oh, Twila!” the older Gnome moaned, sitting down next to her unconscious companion. “Here I am supposed to be her guardian, and look at the pickle jar she’s gotten into! Is it too bad?” She looked at Altha with worried eyes.

“Not to fear, Nola” Altha said reassuringly, carefully putting away the implements she’d just used into a small metal box which snapped tightly shut. “This is not a good situation by any means, but I have a remedy which will have her back on her feet shortly.”

Her hand dived back into the depths of her bag and came back out with a small leather pouch. Deftly, her fingers unfastened the knot which held it shut and loosed the drawstring.

“This is the fastest working treatment I have yet discovered,” she said, dumping some of the pouch’s contents into her hand. At first, Ruelle thought it looked like the tiniest, flat pebbles, but better sense told her it had to be some kind of medicine.

Her guess was confirmed when Altha asked her to lift Twila’s head so she could place the tiny tablet in her mouth. But just as she was about to do so, Nola gave a cry and lurched forward, yanking Altha’s arm back.

“No, no, no!” she insisted. Her tone was so vehement Ruelle was taken aback, though her mentor seemed undisturbed.

“Don’t worry,” Altha said calmly. “She will not choke on it. It dissolves very quickly.”

“No!” Nola repeated stubbornly. “Let me see.” She stuck out her hand, evidently set on examining these tablets.

“Nola, we cannot waste time. Twila needs to get this into her bloodstream right away.” Altha’s tone was serious, but Nola leaned down to take a closer look anyway.

A fiercely displeased look came over her face. “That’s what I thought! This is Elvish medicine!” She glared at Altha. “I won’t have you giving Twila any of that.”

“Nola, this is crucial for Twila . . .” Altha started to say. But Nola cut her off with a stomp of her foot.

“Absolutely not. The Elven ways are mystical and suspicious. Besides, how do they know what’s best for Gnomish bodies?” She stooped and forced her way between Altha and Twila, wrapping her arms around the younger Gnome’s shoulders.

“Nola, wait!” Altha’s voice held real urgency now, and she gripped Nola's arm.

“I told you, I will not allow Twila to receive Elven treatment,” Nola reiterated. She pulled Twila toward herself, extracting her own arm from Altha’s grasp. “And if that’s the only remedy you have, then I will have to treat her myself – in the Gnomish way.”

Ruelle did not know how it happened, nor even what happened, only that in the blink of an eye, both Gnomes were gone.

She blinked once, twice, staring at the spot where they had been. But her eyes saw only the empty street.

Altha shook her head. “I was afraid she would do that,” she muttered.

“What . . . what just happened?” Ruelle stammered.

Altha sighed. “Teleportation. One of the Gnomish wonders.”

Wonders. Ruelle had heard of them, knew they must be real, but the explanation did little to assuage the torrent of questions battering her mind just then. The whole ordeal had transpired in only a matter of minutes, but Ruelle knew that in some medical crises like these, every minute mattered.

“Will Twila be alright?” she asked. She could actually hear the worry in her own voice.

Altha sighed again and stood up slowly. “I hope so,” she said grimly. “It’s a pity there are a good many Gnomes who still do not trust Elven healing methods.” She shook her head and pulled something out of her bag.

“Here,” she motioned for Ruelle to stand. Ruelle did so, and followed the instruction to hold out her hands, watching curiously while Altha wiped them down with what looked like a strip of silver paper. Altha repeated the same on her own hands, then tucked the discarded strips in her metal case.

“There,” she said when she was done. “That cleans your hands. It is a pity I did not get the chance to clean Twila’s, at least where I took her blood.”

“The Gnomish treatment Nola spoke of – will they give that to Twila? Will it work as well as the Elven one you were going to give her?”

“It is somewhat effective,” Altha answered carefully. “But I have found the Elvish remedy to work much better and more quickly. In fact, it is so superior that it’s the only thing I usually carry for these situations. It has even worked well for Twila before, so it’s a pity her aunt had to come around and object this time.”

Ruelle thought over all this as they walked back to the cart. For a place like Paxaria, so well-known for its diversity and the peaceful coexistence of multiple races, it sure seemed like she had already witnessed a lot of division and animosity between people.