“Um… reasonably well,” Gantalla said. She’d had a look at a number of signposts and the names of shops around the square, and while the human script was a little different from the one she’d grown up with, it was similar enough that she could understand most of the words. They seemed to have a couple of extra characters and drew the ‘s’ and the ‘g’ a little differently, but with a bit of practice, she was sure she’d get the hang of it.
“Excellent. Well, how about you start with this one,” Henrietta said, handing her a book with a large mushroom drawn on the front. “There are lots of people who gather mushrooms in the forests, and every now and then, we get someone coming in who’s picked the wrong type. The really poisonous ones are fairly obvious, but there are a few that are more easy to confuse. Vomiting is always the most obvious symptom, but some of them can cause a few other problems, as well.”
Gantalla nodded and studiously applied herself to the books. It was a topic she quickly found fascinating. Aside from the obvious need to know what might have poisoned a patient, there was also plenty of useful information about how to identify edible mushrooms, which could be invaluable if Gantalla wanted to venture out and try to find her own food. Mushrooms had once been abundant in Chalandros, and some of the varieties looked familiar. There was orange-ear, which was poisonous raw, but edible when cooked. There was ghost fingers, a long, thin type that only grew for a few weeks in autumn, once the heat of the summer had passed, and as the name suggested, it was deadly. King’s plate was a huge mushroom, brown with white spots, the cap growing to over a foot wide, which was a favourite for its nutty flavour.
One variety of particular interest was the red cap. It was a medium-sized mushroom, edible, with a strong, earthy flavour, but the reason this one was so interesting was that it was almost indistinguishable from the purple cap. Despite the names, they both had a cap that could be anything from reddish brown through to bright orange-red, but the purple cap was poisonous, causing vomiting, fever and muscle weakness. The only real difference was that the purple cap had a subtle frill hanging down from the rim of the cap, but it was small enough that someone not looking carefully – or someone without adequate experience – would miss the tell tale sign of danger. According to the book, a few dozen people from the town managed to poison themselves every year.
“Gantalla?” A voice interrupted her study, and she looked up, seeing Henrietta in the doorway. “How are you going? Not too bored, I hope?”
“Bored? No, not at all,” Gantalla said, with genuine enthusiasm. “You have a wonderful collection of books.” Back at home, the palace had had a large library, but it was rare for commoners to have more than one or two books in their entire house.
“I was just coming to tell you it’s nearly six o’clock. The day nurses normally finish about now and the night nurses take over. Just to look after anyone who needs to spend the night.”
Gantalla looked out the window in surprise. She’d lost track of time, but sure enough, the light outside was fading, and before too long, night would set in.
Henrietta fumbled in her pocket, pulling out a handful of coins and handing them to Gantalla. “Normally we’re paid once a week, but for the first few days, the doctor said to pay you at the end of the day. You said you’d been on the road for a while, and we weren’t sure if you were short of coin.” Earlier in the day, Gantalla had repeated her fabricated story about traveling to see her brother, in response to the nosy but well-intentioned curiosity of a couple of the younger nurses.
“Thank you. That’s very kind,” Gantalla said, taking the coins. “To be honest, I spent most of my money getting this far.”
“Are you still planning on heading to Palashran?” Henrietta asked the question hesitantly, as if fearful of the answer.
Gantalla smiled. “Actually, I might stick around for a bit longer. I think I could learn to like it here.” After a little early suspicion, the nurses had been friendly and polite, and Gantalla could see herself becoming fast friends with both Nanta and Henrietta. Gosta, the oldest nurse, was still a bit standoffish, impatient with Gantalla’s lack of experience, but Henrietta had assured her that Gosta was that way with everyone. Meanwhile, Rachael, one of the younger nurses, had scoffed at first when she’d heard that Gantalla was from Gadash – a slow and backwards town, according to the opinionated woman – but she’d warmed up when she’d seen that Gantalla was willing to work hard.
Henrietta broke into a wide grin. “I’m so glad to hear it. Are you going back to the festival tonight? Sven and Roberto will be playing the drums, and by the gods, that’s a performance worth seeing.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Gantalla said, her smile genuine, despite the thread of trepidation she felt. There was a chance Hallix would try to corner her again, despite her clear indication that she wasn’t interested, but she resolved to simply be firm about her refusal. Turning down the attentions of a warrior still seemed to be a significant faux pas, with even the nurses spouting copious praise of the muscular men, but she reasoned she had a solid excuse – namely, spending time with Nalyx. After all, she was only choosing one warrior over another, not rejecting the lot of them outright.
◊ ◊ ◊
“Nalyx! There you are. I was beginning to think you’d died of that bloody scratch on your arm.” Calium grinned at Nalyx as he caught sight of him, making his way through a throng of men to greet him. Calium hugged him, slapping him on the back, but he was careful to avoid jarring Nalyx’s injured shoulder. All of the warriors had been injured at some point in time – all but the youngest, and for them, it was only a matter of time – and they had a far better understanding of the consequences of torn stitches or delayed healing than any of the townsfolk ever would. Aside from anything else, a poorly healed wound could be a risk to their lives once the gate opened again.
“Here, let me get you something to drink. Beer? Or whisky?”
“Do you really need me to answer that?” Nalyx asked, and Calium laughed.
“Bloody predictable, that’s what you are.”
Nalyx shrugged with deliberate nonchalance. “I’ve been called worse.”
Calium snorted. “I don’t doubt it. Wait here. I’ll be back in a second.” He darted off, returning a moment later with a cup of the potent liquid, holding it out so that Nalyx could wrap his bandaged hands around the cup.
“So what’s this I hear about you and the new girl?” Calium asked. “Long black hair? A face that could have been sculpted by the gods themselves?”
“Ah, fuck…” What was he supposed to say to that? “It’s still a wait and see,” he said, after a moment of floundering. “She’s a fine woman, but I wouldn’t be placing bets on anything just yet.”
“That’s too bad. I wouldn’t mind tapping that, if she was a few years younger.”
“You keep your bloody hands to yourself,” Nalyx said, though there was no real venom in his words. Calium was a good friend, and he wouldn’t deliberately go after a woman who notionally belonged to someone else.
“Point taken. But speak of the devil,” Calium said, looking at something over Nalyx’s shoulder, and he turned to see Gantalla crossing the square towards them. She looked tired but happy, and Nalyx grinned as she arrived at his side.
“How did you go at the hospital?”
Gantalla smiled. “I think my brain’s about to explode. There’s so much to learn. But it’s all fascinating. I had a wonderful day.”
“Glad to hear it. By the way, this is Calium,” Nalyx introduced her. “Don’t let the pretty boy look fool you. He’s young, but he’s saved my life more than once, and he’s one of the finest warriors in the army. Not that you heard that from me,” he added, winking at Calium. “Too much praise is likely to go to his head.”
“It’s apleasureto meet you,” Calium said, with a quirk of his eyebrow as he looked Gantalla up and down. “Though I’m sure Nalyx has quite thoroughly introduced you to that concept.”
