The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 12

"Thank you very much for helping me, Healer Leila and Healer Harold," said the other man. "I'm Joshua Morgenstern. I knew Frank, and he was an asshole through and through. Good riddance."

"Make way, make way! Ambulance coming through!" a loud male voice announced. A white horse pulling a white-painted cart with a large red cross on either side had been making its way through the traffic and finally had reached them, pulling up to the curb in front of Joshua's horse to avoid blocking the road. "Ah, Healer Leila, we meet again," said Nate, the large man who was driving it. He and his partner beside him smirked knowingly as Leila rolled her eyes and snorted.

"It looks like we have someone for the cold room," his partner Charlotte said, looking over her shoulder at Frank's body. "Looks like he stopped a flying hoof." The white-uniformed orderlies dismounted, pulled down the tailgate of the cart, and extracted a stretcher that they unfolded and set on the street. "Will we be disturbing evidence if we remove him, Constables?"

"No," Jill replied as they closed their notebooks and put them and their pencils in their designated pouches on their belts. "Since a human was not responsible for his death, there does not need to be a trial. The only investigation required will be trying to find next of kin to notify, and to get someone up to his farm to look after any animals that need to be looked after."

"I will help with that, since I'm his neighbour and all," said Lynn dryly. "Will we need a search warrant to enter his property legally?" she inquired with interest.

"Yeah, if we want to do it properly, we'll have to find Judge Armstrong and get him to sign one," said Brad, scratching his head. "But as a concerned neighbour, it'll be all right for you to go over and take care of things until we can get there. We'll need some directions, though." As Lynn and the cops were discussing directions, Nate and Charlotte were transferring Frank's battered remains onto the stretcher and heaving it into the back of the cart, securing the stretcher and closing the tailgate.

"Hey, buddy, you don't look so good," Charlotte observed, evaluating him with her sharp blue eyes. Joshua was leaning on his horse's flank and looking decidedly the worse for the wear.

"The bird pecked my horse, which caused her to kill Frank, and also to throw me. I apparently broke my left clavicle on impact with the hard, hard street and the Healers fixed me up. I have a bit of a headache and feel like I could sleep for a month or so, but I should be OK." He smiled weakly.

"I think that you should be coming with us," said Nate in his mellow baritone voice, looking in both of Joshua's gray eyes. "Anybody who has gone through that much trauma in such a short time should be supervised by a professional for an hour or so to make sure something else doesn't pop up. And you, Healer Harold, could make an effective All Hallows Eve decoration."

"How did you happen to get here so quickly?" Leila asked as her decorative husband made a show of shambling and weaving over to where he'd stashed the cake and donut boxes and his staff, moaning in an effectively creepy manner, earning some snickers from the rapidly depleting crowd. It was not that much of an act, as he was feeling really rough after the intense activity of the past few minutes. Years ago, he had taken this sort of thing in stride, especially during the Carcosa Campaign when he had been constantly on the move and his skills in demand and in use.

"Oh, we have been patrolling up and down the street all morning," Charlotte replied as Joshua was pushed back into his saddle and he and the ambulance cart made a U turn and started heading south. "There's always something happening on Solstice Day. Speaking of which, we're thinking that those Army recruiters in the Park will be giving us some business soon. Some of the folks they're having try out sparring with those wooden swords are bound to get themselves hurt."

"All right, show's over," said Jill, making shooing motions at the few remaining spectators, who were more interested in Harold's antics than her.

"Donuts and a birthday cake for our birthday girl this afternoon," Harold explained as he stood there with his staff once again Levitating by his side. "I want to get them home before either they melt or I collapse, whichever comes first. I hope that you two have a boring day," he added to Jill and Brad, who grinned at him, turned and walked south in the general direction of the police station. "Is there anything to eat at home?" he asked Leila. "I'm in rather dire need of sustenance. Again." She elevated an eyebrow. "Long story," he added tiredly.

"There's stuff to make sandwiches with," she replied as she gave him a peck on the cheek. "No time for sausages, though." He leered, then pouted when she shook her head.

"You'd be asleep as soon as I got you on the bed, and I wonder if you'd wake up again before the birthday party. I have some shopping to do, and you have to go get the garden stakes, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," he groaned. "I'll have to warn the kids that the crackling and popping noises won't come until they reach my advanced age. See you later, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too, Harold," Leila replied and he turned, made his way to the corner, crossed Willow Street and headed for the backyard. Satisfied that he would make it the rest of the way, she saw a break in the traffic and hustled across Main Street. Murderous ravens or no, the party must go on.

Much to his surprise, Harold made it to the house. He had to put the boxes down in order to open the gate, and it required effort to pick them up again. Since the gate opened into the backyard, he was able to close it with a foot. The boxes with their precious cargo were deposited on the patio table in order for him to make a suddenly necessary trip to the privy. They were finally transported into the cool basement, where they were placed under the stairs next to the wrapped book on Bridge that was their present to Marcie. Why someone had had to take the perfectly good game of Whist and complicate it with crazy rules about bidding and scoring was beyond him, but Marcie, junior card shark that she was, had found it endlessly fascinating.

The meat turned out to be ham, and he made a generous sandwich for himself, including lots of mustard, which Marcie and Leila loathed. He decided to sacrifice a small piece of wood with which to boil water so that he could have hot coffee instead of cold, and when both items were ready, he made himself comfortable at the patio table and proceeded to savor every bite of the sandwich and every drop of the extra-strength coffee in the warm early afternoon. "Mmm, Leila," he said as his thoughts, kicking free of the present, drifted back to two nights ago when he had seduced his love in his favourite way, by massaging her neck and shoulders, which had been definitely in need of help. He had worked on her arms and moved over to her almost D-sized breasts, squeezing and stroking them through her blouse and bra and getting their nipples hard enough to try to push their way to freedom.

She had caught on pretty quickly, of course, and after some murmured comments he had gently stroked her earlobes, which are an often-neglected erogenous zone, and given her a gentle kiss that had been enough to get her to pull down his pants, stuff his cock in her mouth and do things to it with her lips and tongue that had nearly caused him to blow his load then and there. He had wanted nothing more than to stuff it into her hot and needy pussy as he had so many times before, but anticipation makes it all the better, so he had undone her blouse button by button, sliding his hands inside to squeeze and stroke her breasts through the fabric of her bra until she had peeled off her pants and underwear and pulled him onto and into her.

They had gone at it on the grass right next to the patio, bucking and thrusting for almost a minute before she had clamped down on him and he had flooded her with a couple of hard squirts of cum and they had moaned as quietly as possible to not disturb the neighbours. But they had been lurking on the other side of the six-foot board fence, waiting for the orgasm wave to hit them, and as he and Leila had been lying next to each other, seeing stars both literally and figuratively, they had heard the tell-tale grunts and moans from the other side as they had gotten going. Living next door to a pair of horny Mages did have its benefits.

The stimulation of the caffeine and the memories were no match for the comfortably padded chair and could not prevent his eyelids from slowly closing and his brain functions slowly coasting to a stop. He was thrown off the horse on the final turn of the road to the Land of Nod by a great flapping of wings and a squawk as a raven landed on the back of the chair opposite him.

"Huh? Whaaa? Aahh!" he articulated as his eyes focused on the large black bird. The Healer collected the pieces of his mind together, made very familiar passes with his hands and fingers that ended with him tapping his throat and then his ears, finalizing it with "Loqui corvus" and several coughs as the spell adjusted his trachea. He hated that part, as well as having to sing instead of talking normally, but it was because he was unable to sing due to his odd curse that he excelled at the spell.

"Greetings, human who glows," the bird vocalized with a squeak and a rattle. "I see you."

"I see you, Raven," he replied, making Polite Bow #1 while seated. His voice came out as a squawk and a trill. The limitations of his anatomy were made up by the spell, and the years of practice on the long and lonely roads had refined his "accent" to something the birds could easily understand.

"You glow and you speak Raven," said the bird, cocking its head to one side curiously. "Why?"

"I am a Mage," Harold responded. "I speak with Magic. Few Mages speak Raven well. I practiced much in my travels." The bird considered this information. "You are the one who flew past and pecked the horse that killed the man not long ago?"

"Yes," the raven replied. "Bad human killed my mate. Grak-tok." Harold hunched his shoulders and looked downcast. Body language is an important part of the raven's communication.

"I grieve your loss," he said as sadly as he could. "Your flying is superior. I and the other humans who saw were very impressed." Flattery was helpful with ravens, but he was speaking the truth and the bird could tell and it preened itself. "Please do not repeat," he added dryly.

"Revenge is done. Other human with large hat is kind to ravens. Has honour. Human and mate buried my mate to protect my mate from predators and the bad human."

"Many humans hated that human and thank you for the killing. That human will not be mourned."

"That human cut down trees with nests in them. Hurt and killed nestlings and fledglings." The raven's posture and emphasis showed anger. Harold nodded thoughtfully, as the bird's words made him think of something. He paused to consider how to phrase it.

"Later today, when sun is there," he said, pointing to the sky where he thought it would be at about five o'clock when Marcie's party would get started, "my fledgling will celebrate her day of birth. Will you attend? You can be teacher and teach human fledglings about ravens, just like you teach your fledglings about being ravens." The black bird's posture showed surprise. This glowing human who could speak Raven had different thoughts than the others. "I offer food in exchange."

"Offer accepted. Will bring two fledglings. Maybe thick skulls can learn." The bird made the noise that is their laughter, and Harold smiled in return.

"Parents have same troubles, human and raven," he said. "Thank you. This will be very new for the fledglings. Safe travels, Raven."

"Safe travels, Mage. I will return." The raven leaped from the back of the chair, flapped its impressive wingspan, and was gone.

"I wonder what Leila will think of this," he said out loud as he stood up, now fully awake, and gathered his plate and sadly empty coffee mug. "So, in addition to garden stakes, I need to get some fresh meat for our new guests." He returned the plate and mug to the kitchen, Cleaned them and put them away. He stood for a few moments in the empty house, savoring the peace and solitude, and pushed aside the call of his body for the soft, welcoming bed that was only a few steps away. "Bedtime later. Much later," he muttered. He grabbed a shopping bag from behind the basement door, left and locked the kitchen door and headed for the gate. "Please, no more drama for today," he asked the sky, his arms outstretched, knowing full well that once the Drama Fairy had him in her sights, there was little chance of escape.

Sure enough, just as he reached the gate, a two-seat buggy pulled by a blond cart horse turned the corner from northbound Main Street. The driver was a medium-sized muscular man wearing a medium-brimmed, straw-coloured hat, a white T-shirt, and denim pants, and the passenger was a woman with a green hat, who was leaning on him for support, and even from the rapidly decreasing distance, he could see that she was not looking well. "Oh, bollocks," he muttered as they pulled into the driveway and the man dismounted to tie the horse to the rail, pump some water into the water trough, and pour the contents of a small bag of oats into the trough in front of it.

"You folks are here to see me, aren't you?" he greeted them.

-=-=-=-=-=

"But with more hair, there's more of me to love," Mark Magnussen complained jokingly. He had been escorted by his now fiancée Stella Webber to the Magwitch Hair Salon, plunked in Chair #1, and had the required white apron tied around his neck. A quantity of his sandy brown hair had found its way to the floor around him, and some of the bristles from his newly-trimmed goatee were on the apron. He was being attended by Marsha Lane, the owner of the shop, while Stella's darker brown hair was receiving attention from Franco Torres, the son of Pella and Ramon who ran the Torres Tailor Shop across the street. Franco had put Leila's and Marcie's hair into an elegant style for Leila's wedding to Harold a month ago, and the style had become popular. Mark was careful to remain still as Marsha's clicking scissors were working on the area over his left ear, whose intactness he cherished. "I was not a haystack."

"It wasn't too bad, Stella," said Marsha with a smile. "I only had to chase two mice out of there before I could get started." Marsha was five-foot-eight, with long, elegantly cut, curly black hair, brown eyes that twinkled with a bit of mischief, a small, pointed nose and a generous, full-lipped mouth. Her figure was much slenderer than the usual farmer's body build so typical of the Westlands because she was a transplant from The Capital.

"Hey! Those were for Peanut!" He put on an aggrieved expression and batted his eyelashes at Stella, forcing Franco to step back from his client, hands on his hips and shaking his head with a rueful smile as he waited for her to stop giggling and regain her composure. Fortunately, they weren't holding anyone else up, as they were the only two clients in the shop due to the Summer Solstice, when most people were more in the mood for a party than a haircut. A breeze through the open door and windows helped relieve some of the heat. "Peanut is our cat," he explained to Marsha, who rolled her eyes.

"Thank you very much!" Stella said a few minutes later, after finishing touches had been applied and they were standing in front of the mirror. Franco had somehow given her hair a wispy look at the ends of her bangs and around the back, which was now just touching her shoulders. Mark's hair had been cut shorter at the sides than the top in a style currently popular in The Capital, and he had to admit to himself that it did make him look good. "We definitely look ready to be married!" Several doubloons changed hands, their hats and her shopping bags were collected, and they found themselves on the sidewalk on the west side of the street a few doors south of the General Store.

"All done, time to go home for a nap," Mark pronounced, turning south to get started. "Erk!" he added as his progress was abruptly arrested by a strong hand on his right shoulder.

"Not so fast, bub!" his love replied, turning him around. "What the ...?" He had made a funny face when he was facing away from her and she had been startled, then started giggling again. "You silly man! You're still trying to get me to smile! Mmff!" He had moved in for a tender smooch.

"Get a room, you two!" snickered a passer-by.

"I'm trying, but she wants to take me shopping! Please help! Oof!" Mark pleaded, getting some laughs from the man and a jab in the midriff from Stella.

"Anna's Shoe Shop is just on the other side of the General Store," she said firmly.

"I wonder if they have any of the yummy beef patties at Mulgrew's?" he asked as he was propelled toward the inevitable destination. "It's right there," he continued, pointing to the storefront that was only two doors up from the shoe shop. "I will get one for each of us to keep us going while you get your shoes."

"You aren't going to try to sneak off, are you?" she inquired, elevating an eyebrow and giving him The Stare as he squirmed uncomfortably.

"On my honour, no tricks," he finally sighed. "Am I that transparent?"

"Men will do anything to avoid the shoe shop," she replied with an eye roll. "We have no idea why. Oh, what's going on up there?" There seemed to be some sort of ruckus going on well up the street, but they couldn't see anything from where they were. "Get a patty for me and as many as you need for yourself, and I'll be out as soon as I can." Trying to not look to relieved, Mark walked to Mulgrew's Butcher Shop and idly wondered how much business they got from situations such as this. Even on the hot days they kept their door closed to try to minimize the number of flies that got in, but their screened window was wide open and through it he could hear a crying baby, the full force of said noise hitting him when he slipped in the door, closing it quickly behind him as per the instructions in large letters on a sign that was taped to the right wall.

"Yes, it looks like poor Billy has an ear infection," a frazzled-looking woman was saying to John Mulgrew. "It seemed to be getting started this morning. I am going to take him to Healer Leila's and hope that she's home and can see him." Billy was about a year and a half old, Mark judged, and would be a good-looking, blond-haired, blue-eyed fellow if his face hadn't been red and wet with tears. He was in a stroller and holding his left hand to his head, seeming to try to push the pain away.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said loudly, with Polite Bow #2, "maybe I can help." Both she and John turned to look at him. "I am Mark Magnussen, Healer-in-Training," he introduced himself, prompted by her blank stare of non-recognition. Something must have clicked, as he saw her expression change. She was five-foot-seven, looked a little overweight and was wearing a medium-brimmed pink sun hat that mostly covered blonde hair that had been cut in some short style. She also had blue eyes in a face that was most notable for its expression of fatigue.

"Oh, you're Stella's man," she replied, eyeing the ring on his finger. "Congratulations. What took you two so long? And yes, Billy really needs help. He's been driving me crazy!" Mark focused on the procedure to summon the Window, which took some doing because of the noise from Billy, but he got it right this time and what appeared to be a two-by-two-foot square pane of glass coalesced out of the air, making the child stop crying with surprise.

"Let me have a look at your ear, Billy," he said with a winning smile, turning the boy's head so that the sore ear was on his side. "Please hold his head so I can get a look," he added and his mother quickly complied. He zoomed the focus of the Window to the inner ear, which was clearly full of fluid that was pushing against the eardrum. "They teach us the simple things first," he added conversationally to Billy, who was side-eyeing him, trying to see what he was doing. "The first step is to remove all this nasty fluid." He muttered something, carefully moving his fingers and hands, tying and binding small threads of dark blue, light blue, and red inside the tube, then said "Auferat fluidum," while making a come-hither motion with his left index finger. A large drop of something nasty-looking appeared just outside of Billy's ear and fell onto his shoulder, and the child abruptly stopped crying. "Sterilitatem," he added and the inner ear glowed briefly in the Window. He finally Cleaned the nasty drop from where it had fallen and stood up. "Let me check the other ear, while I have the Window," he said, and with the woman's help turning the head, he saw that it was fine, but he did a pre-emptive Sterilize just to be sure.