Medicus

61

Ruso stumbled through the front door and across the room. He dragged a blanket off the couch and stretched out, laying his throbbing head on a cushion that smelled of dog and stale beer.

"Tilla!" he croaked. "Get me some water."

The sound of his head bouncing off the wall was still echoing in his skull. His throat felt as though the slightest twist would split his windpipe and crack his neck bones apart.

He had almost begged Tilla's goddess for help as the strength drained out of him like desert sand sifting through his fingers. A distant voice was shouting, "Sir! Sir, you'll kill him!" and finally the vice around his throat had loosened and he'd collapsed to the floor.

She had not heard his request for water. He couldn't call any louder.

He rolled onto his side and tried again, the word rasping in his throat and ringing through his aching skull.

"Tilla!"

Still no reply. Too tired to lift himself off the couch, he closed his eyes and waited for her to find him.

Something was jumping on his stomach. An African drummer was practicing on the inside of his skull. Something was bouncing on his chest. A chisel was being scraped up the inside of his throat. A rough tongue was licking his face. He lifted an arm and batted away a small warm body. The licking stopped. The body yelped as it landed.

A voice called, "Off, boys and girls! He doesn't want to play!" The bouncing ceased. The drumming and scraping didn't.

Ruso opened one eye to see Valens scoop up a whining puppy. "You're not hurt," Valens assured the puppy after a perfunctory check. He turned to the couch. "Are you all right there, Ruso?"

The water helped. He was less sure about the liniment. "I got it from one of the vets," explained Valens. "He says it's marvelous stuff. I've been waiting for a chance to try it out."

Ruso grimaced.

"Don't worry about the smell; you won't notice it after a minute or two. So, what happened?"

Ruso pointed to his throat and moved his head carefully from side to side.

"Write it down," suggested Valens. "Hold on, I'll find something.. if the lovely Tilla hasn't chucked it all… Where is she, by the way?"

Ruso lifted both palms in an exaggerated shrug. Valens disappeared into his room and began throwing things about in his hunt for writing materials. Ruso hauled himself to his feet and shuffled across the floor.

The kitchen fire was dead. There was no sign of any attempt to prepare supper. The water jug was almost empty and there was no bread in the bin. The wretched girl must be up to her old tricks with the goddess. She could not possibly have the meal ready on time if the fire wasn't lit by now. He wondered if she knew what had happened at Merula's and was hiding from him.

Ruso wandered into his bedroom. Rubbing the lump on the back of his head, he stood in the doorway and tried to remember whether he had put his best cloak away or whether it was missing from the hook on the wall.

Valens appeared, clutching a slate. "So. Talk to me."

There were many things he wished to say to Valens, but the slate was not big enough. Instead he scrawled, "My throat hurts, my head hurts, I have no money, my servant has disappeared, and I am about to do ward rounds smelling like a sick horse."

"Ah." Valens reached for the slate. He licked his forefinger, rubbed out the word horse, and wrote, donkey.

Carefully, Ruso tipped his head back toward the pharmacy ceiling, gargled the last of the foul mixture, and spat. Watching it slide down the side of the waste bucket, he pondered the efficiency of military communications. It was a mystery why the army bothered with a signal system when its men were so good at gossip. He had left the second spear's house barely an hour ago, and just now the pharmacist, after expressing sympathy for his sudden cold, waited until the last patient had left to murmur between gargles, "Sorry to hear about the second spear's daughter, sir. That was bad luck."

Ruso turned to him and rasped, "What about the second spear's daughter?"

"If it's any consolation, most of us think she wouldn't be your type, sir."

"I'm not bloody interested in the…" Ruso paused and lowered his voice. "Any rumors about myself and the second spear's daughter are groundless. I'm sure she's a lovely young lady but I've never actually set eyes on her. So go back to whomever told you this nonsense, and tell them if they spread any more lies I'll deal with them myself."

Halfway through late-ward rounds, he met Valens in a corridor. "How's it going?" demanded Valens.

Ruso paused to insert another throat lozenge before strong-arming him into an empty isolation room and latching the door.

"Jupiter!" Valens wrinkled his nose. "You'd think that salve would have worn off by now, wouldn't you?"

"I've been thinking," said Ruso. "Have you been smarming around the offspring of the second spear?"

"I did have a pleasant chat with her the other day. Nice girl."

"Well, don't. Her father thinks you're me, and he doesn't like it."

"No? Well, I wouldn't either. Look at the state of you. Your eyes are bloodshot, your hair's sticking up, and you smell like something they clean the drains with."

"I know. And it's your fault!"

"She hasn't complained to him, has she?"

"She hasn't. You were seen."

Valens smiled. "I didn't think she would. I knew she'd be a sensible sort of girl. She's got a sensible sort of nose."

Ruso opened his mouth to argue, then decided it would only make his throat worse.

"I'll tell you all about it later," suggested Valens. "Over tonight's supper served by the lovely Tilla."

"I can't find Tilla."

"Dear me. You are having a bad day."

"I am," growled Ruso. "But it'll improve when I kill you."