The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 11

"There's nothing going on at the moment, but I think that there's a good chance for pop-up showers or thunderstorms later in the day."

"No farmer would say no to summer rain," said Stella abstractly as their attention was drawn toward unusual activity at the north end of the park. Several people were unloading a large wagon and setting up what looked like a large portable pavilion whose colours were Army colours of irregular patches in shades of green and brown. Curiosity drew them, and several other townspeople, toward the activity, where the onlookers were gathering in a perimeter that was a respectful distance away. As Mark and Stella joined the crowd, they saw three men and three women dressed in summer-weight Army fatigues that included medium-brimmed hats, shiny brown boots, trousers made from a sturdy fabric that had clearly been pressed to make sharp creases, and short-sleeved tops that were loose-fitting to allow for easy movement, but still showed off impressive physiques. A twelve-foot flagpole had just finished being assembled and when it, with the Kingdom's flag of green, blue, and white horizontal stripes, had been shoved into the ground and stabilized with four guy ropes, the assembled citizens bowed respectfully.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Magwitch," a large woman announced in a voice that was clearly accustomed to being used loudly as the clearly well-practiced setup routine continued behind her. The insignia sewn on her sleeves had three points-up chevrons above three curve-down arcs with a large star in the middle. They also noticed that her left hand and lower part of her forearm had been replaced by a carefully carved and painted prosthetic that was strapped above and below the elbow. She also had a faint scar that ran from beside her left eye down to her chin, piercing blue eyes, gray hair down to her shoulders, and a body build that looked like she could, and probably did at one time, manhandle unruly livestock.

"I am Sergeant-Major Magdalena Berry of the Recruitment Division of the Kingdom's Armed Forces. We are staging a campaign in the towns of the Westlands to coincide with Midsummer celebrations to raise awareness of the Armed Forces as a career option for those of you who desire a change of pace in your lives." There were some clearly expected chuckles and murmured comments, and it was obvious that she'd been doing this for a while. "We will be open for business after setup has completed and will be here all day should you have any questions." There was some polite applause that was graciously accepted by her and her crew and the citizens, often with welcoming wishes that seemed to surprise them a bit, broke up and continued about their business.

"What is it?" Stella asked as Mark seemed to perk up a bit and started looking around.

"Dad's around here somewhere," he replied, finally spotting the tallish man with his trademark staff who was approaching them while giving the Army group a wide berth. "He must be on the way to work. It's about the right time." They were standing almost directly across the street from the Turner Veterinary Clinic where he normally checked in each morning.

"Good morning!" he addressed them distractedly as he was forced to halt his rapid progress by a bunch of chattering people who had slowed to eye the progress of the construction of the Army outpost.

"Is the doll for Marcie?" asked Stella, spotting what he was holding in his left hand. He looked surprised as he held it up for her to examine, as though he'd forgotten that he was holding it.

"I found it on my way here," he replied, his voice a little flat as he eyed the activity.

"It triggered something, didn't it Dad?" said Mark quietly. "Something from Carcosa?" His father's emotional turmoil was radiating from him like a bonfire, and it seemed that even Stella was picking it up.

"No, something much older than that that should have stayed in its box instead of coming out to play," he replied sadly. Only Leila knew of Vera, and what had happened after, as he had not shared this part of his past with Mark yet. "Speaking of which, I really should get going!" They saw that the Sergeant-Major had spotted him and was now covering the distance with remarkable speed.

"Harold Moser! Stop right there!" The note of command made him freeze in his tracks, then try to hide behind the not insubstantial figures of his son and (sooner or later) daughter-in-law. Mark and Stella looked at each other, grinned, and stepped aside to reveal him, earning a dirty look. Work continued without her supervision, as they knew all too well that she seemed to have eyes in the back of her head.

"Why, hello, Army person whom I've never met before," he said as she arrived. "All those stripey things on your shoulders must be heavy. Why not sit down, have a drink, and enjoy all that Magwitch has to offer?" he wheedled unctuously, getting an unusually expressive eye-roll from her and snickers from Mark and Stella.

"Still the joker after all these years," she said, shaking her head in mock sadness.

"Sergeant-Major Berry, now," he replied, transferring his staff to his left hand to be held with the doll, snapping to attention and saluting with his clenched right fist over his heart, knuckles up. She returned it with a smile that wasn't too frightening. "You've come up in the world, with more people to shout at. I mean, to motivate. But I'm not signing up again."

"Oh, we're not interested in ancient folks like you and me, but these two would be perfect candidates. Young, strong, and healthy." They shifted rather uncomfortably under her professional scrutiny.

"Magda, may I present to you my son Mark Magnussen and his very significant other, Stella Webber. I think that they have a very important shopping trip to attend," Harold added, eyeing the bags in Mark's hand.

"I'm training to be a blacksmith," said Stella, returning her stare.

"I'm a Mage-in-Training and ineligible," Mark explained, shaking hands. "I'm in the Veterinary Medicine program, like Dad was."

"For now," Magda replied. "Believe me, we always need Healers and smiths, and veterinarians are an especially rare find. Did you know that it took an entire team of us to bag your father for the draft for the Carcosan Campaign?"

"I may have mentioned that my enlistment was not voluntary," said Harold, clearing his throat and making shooing motions at Mark and Stella, who showed no sign of moving.

"We had just arrived in the Capital on a trip home from Margrave in the far south. He had been making himself incredibly helpful Healing our troop of the Queen's Horse Regiment, both humans and horses, after a nasty fight with raiders in the back country. We were in the Main Barracks, just across the Central Park from your Mage School." Mark nodded, quite familiar with the large complex. "He had just been presented with the Silver Star for Courage, which normally is for military people only, and was on his way out when a runner came in and said that we were being mobilized for a trip to Carcosa and to recruit any available Healers by any means necessary."

"And he was just leaving when that happened and led you on a merry chase," Mark smirked.

"It really did take a whole team of us to finally grab him," said Magda, large hands on her hips and scowling at Harold, who tried to look innocent. "And even that was only because of a riot that he started and then couldn't get out of."

"My big heart betrayed me," the Healer sighed, rather dramatically. "When I encountered two assholes abusing a prostitute, even with the pursuers hot on my heels, I couldn't keep myself from intervening and punching them out. Then some of their friends showed up and I was using my staff to keep them at bay. Then a bunch of thugs from a rival gang, on whose turf they happened to be, burst out of a bar and started fighting with them. Then she and her crew showed up."

"We had been spoiling for a fight," she admitted. "You had been really getting on our nerves," she added with a scowl that would turn normal people into quivering jelly, but had no effect on him. "And there one was. It was a little lopsided until the Harbor Police, who had been just about to raid their headquarters, showed up."

"And by the time it was all over and the dead and wounded were being taken away, I was too tired and injured to keep running. My last-ditch effort was to try to get myself arrested and carted off to jail with the others, but they managed to persuade the cops that I needed 'proper military justice'."

"I almost wish that I could have been watching," said Stella, giving Harold an appraising glance. "From a safe distance, of course." She tried to imagine an entire street like their Main Street filled with shouting, fighting people and just couldn't.

"But I also owe him my life," Magda continued seriously. "I was brought into the hospital station in pretty bad shape in the middle of the battle in Carcosa, and you fixed the cut on my face," she indicated the scar, "healed up the amputation and also a crossbow bolt wound in my shoulder." She indicated her right shoulder with her prosthetic hand. "I'd heard about the Order of the Kingdom and that you'd finally settled down here, and pulled a few strings to make sure that my lot was assigned to Magwitch. Congratulations. It was a medal that was truly earned." Her salute was truly heartfelt, as was Harold's in return, and Mark and Stella felt obliged to give her the Very Respectful Bow.

"I think that your crew is looking at the gazebo more than they are working," Harold replied with a twinkle in his eyes. It wasn't true of course, as they wouldn't dare to, as she quickly determined with a backwards glance. "I'll catch up with you later. Good luck with the locals."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll get a few. There are always some folks who need some excitement in their lives. Pick up the pace, you slackers!" she added, spurring some extra motion from the crew, who were nearly done anyway. "I'll send a couple to the local school to wave the flag and see who's interested once we're done here." With a friendly wave, and a noticeable glance at the doll in Harold's hand, she turned and jogged back to the pavilion.

"It's always a good idea to keep your past clean," Harold said to the others, looking rather tired all of a sudden. "You never know when it will come back to haunt you."

"You really were glad to see her," said Mark. "I could feel it." Harold nodded, watching the people stack boxes, bags, and other packing supplies in the back of the large wagon.

"One thing that the Army can give you is lifelong friendships. Of course, in a job where many of the people that you're dealing with are trying to kill you, 'lifelong' has an uncertain definition." His eyes had a definite sadness in them. "See you later. I've got to get to pretending to work." He managed to find a break in the traffic and scooted across the street.

"She saw the doll, and didn't say anything," said Mark thoughtfully as they watched him reach the opposite sidewalk undamaged. "I think that they know each other much better than they let on." They started to walk around the recruiting station, enjoying the weather and the company and their encounter with Harold passed from their minds, which were distracted by the presence of the other.

"Even from here, you can see that all of the recruiters are good-looking," Stella observed, still distracted by their presence.

"Good-looking? I hadn't noticed," he replied, the Picture of Innocence, earning a snort. "But you're right, they do look like a heavily-biased sample."

"Ugh, don't talk statistics to me," she grunted as they moved to walk around the pavilion.

"What, you mean it doesn't get you all hot and bothered?" he asked in mock horror.

"Bothered, yes, hot, no. Even though it is a necessary part of the metallurgical testing process, it's still tiresome. Much more tiresome than shopping," she added with a quelling stare, clearly anticipating a clever remark from her man. "You're still being silly just to get me smiling, aren't you?" she accused.

"My day is not a day without your smiles."

"Now you're the silver-tongued rascal! I will love you forever, Mark!" They had stopped, still in the park and under a large, shady maple tree that rustled and whispered in the breeze.

"I enjoy putting this silver tongue to many uses with you," he replied, his lips just brushing hers, the bristles from his goatee tickling her chin. "But we're in public and must behave."

"Darned standards of decency," she growled, not moving to leave his arms. "I would be ruining you right now and leaving your comatose body here under this tree so I could go shopping, which we are not doing right now," she added, scowling at him. "You awful man! You're trying to distract me with your loving, masculine charms, aren't you!" Despite her indignation, the look on his face got her giggling. She kissed his lips gently. "Now let's go to Pella's. I saw a dress there that I want to try on."

"Yes, dear," he replied meekly, putting his right arm around her waist, and she put her left arm around his. "Let's get a look at this dress." Since there was no escape, he decided that the process could be accelerated if he was genuinely helpful, though he was unsure how to help a woman who was shopping. They passed by Macy's Restaurant and crossed the side street, where Mark looked to his right in the direction of the Webber Transportation compound. There was always something that needed to be done there, but not today. He really did need a rest, though without more coffee soon, he'd be getting an involuntary rest of an hour or two if he were to make the mistake of sitting down.

"Here we are," said Stella as they arrived at the Torres Tailor Shop, which was in the middle of the block. Mark opened the door for her and bowed, with only the shade of a smirk on his face. "Oh, pretending to be a gentleman, are we?" She walked in and he made to close the door while staying outside. "Not so fast, bub! You're supposed to escort me into the store, not to the store!"

"Erk! Some gentleman I am," he exclaimed as she grabbed his shirt and hauled him in with her, and then he was allowed to close the door behind them.

"Mark, you are definitely your father's son," Pella greeted them with a big smile. She was tall and willowy with long hair halfway down her back that was half glossy black and half light gray, with dark brown eyes that were as effective as a Sergeant-Major at instilling fear in anyone who was up to some sort of nonsense. She and her family had the olive complexion and angular features of Carcosans because they had been refugees whom Harold had helped to save and had eventually wound up in Magwitch.

"By that, she means not a gentleman," her husband Ramon said cheerfully as he emerged from the back, accompanied by a medium-haired black and white tuxedo cat who immediately trotted over to Mark and meowed for attention, which he happily gave in the form of a good scratch behind the ears. "This is a flaw of which I'm accused on a regular basis, being a man and all."

"Hi, Pella. Hi, Ramon," said Stella, unable to resist a smile watching Mark petting the cat and getting audible purrs. "I wanted to try on the blue and yellow dress that I was looking at the other day."

"Ah, the one that Ramon was just altering to fit you," Pella replied. "We knew you'd be back, as it looks really good on you." The cat was now looking at Mark expectantly with her bright green eyes, her magnificent white-tipped plume of a tail swishing back and forth on the floor.

"I will get it, of course," Ramon said, also eyeing the cat. "It looks like Miss Tibbles wants you to play," he added. Mark grinned, summoned a Mage Light, tuned it to red, shrank it to the size of a marble, and moved it to the floor, at which point the cat tried to pounce on it and he flicked it away. They spent the next five minutes watching the fuzzball charge all around the store, sometimes seeming to catch the elusive red ball, only to have it pop up somewhere else. The Healer-in-training had gotten plenty of practice playing with Peanut, who was always game for pursuing it, and managed to get her to perform a couple of acrobatic feats that left them amazed and laughing. When the cat started to get tired and lose interest, he allowed her to pounce on the light one last time before it went out. She then realized that she was the subject of amusement by the humans and hastily groomed her left side before stalking off into the back of the store, tail raised.

"The outfit is here," called Sylvia, the eldest daughter, who looked just like her mother did when she had been 24. She and her younger sister Olivia had been watching the cat's antics from the back of the store. "Come to the change area and you can try it on."

"I will stay here and keep the shopping bags safe," Mark dead-panned, getting an eye roll from his beloved, who turned to walk past the racks of various types of clothing for men and women, bolts of various types of fabric, notions and other supplies. To avoid the temptation to ogle the gentle sway of her firm rear end, he turned to look out the window on the right side of the door. The General Store, which was directly across the already busy street, had flowers of various sorts in vases in its display windows, with a sign offering a "Midsummer Madness" sale, whatever that was. He wondered if there was something that they should get there on the way home. There probably was, but his fatigued brain was unable to recall anything except that it was probably time for some more coffee.

"So, Mark, what do you think?" Stella's voice broke his reverie and as he turned around, his brain ran through some plausible-sounding platitudes meant to agree with her so that they could get out the door as quickly as possible, but it slammed to a halt when he saw her. The dress was yellow, pleated, and went to halfway down her shins, while the blouse was a lovely shade of blue with sleeves that went halfway down to her elbows and were large enough to not restrict her biceps. The fabric was probably the usual cotton and hemp blend made for comfort and durability, and the outfit was loose enough to not restrict movement, but still showed off her well-muscled yet still very feminine figure. His first impression was of the shining sun in the sky over a field of yellow flowers, and whatever remaining doubts and reservations that he may have had that she was the only one for him were forever banished.

Words may have failed her man, but his expression and the shine in his eyes as he looked into hers left no doubt in her mind that he loved it. It's now or never, she thought, overcoming a sudden burst of fear that it could go wrong and ruin everything. "Is it..." she said softly, her words loud in the suddenly silent tailor shop, "... good enough to get married in?" The sounds of the street through the open windows of the shop, one on either side of the door, seemed to fade to nothing. Mark recalled the plot lines of many plays he'd seen and stories he'd read of proposals delayed leading to all sorts of complications, some funny, some tragic. He had fully intended to somehow herd all of their friends together at the Solstice Party this evening so that he could make a Big Deal of his proposal, even though he knew full well what her response would be. But no, it was now that it had to be done.

"It is," he finally managed to say, "but it is missing something. Something important." Somehow the leather pouch in his pocket was in his right hand and the rings that it contained were in the middle of his left palm. The pouch was then returned unconsciously to his right pocket so that he could hold Stella's ring between his thumb and index finger. The stainless steel's silver colour seemed to have an extra glow, perhaps a residue of the Magic he'd used to finish it, or maybe it was just the light from the windows. Her face radiated a joy that he'd never seen before as he knelt on his right knee as he'd so carefully practiced so many times.