CHAPTER 25: BITTER MEDICINE

  Aira woke early, her stomach tight.

  In a few hours, she'd know if the mother kept her mouth shut.

  She dressed quickly. Checked her knives and headed downstairs.

  Delain was in the common room, eating breakfast. He looked up when she entered. Nodded once. "Ready?"

  "Yes."

  Before she could sit, Rhen entered from the street. "Deakin wants you," he said to Aira. "His office. Now."

  Her heart stopped.

  Delain frowned. "She's supposed to come with me."

  "Change of plans. Deakin is sending me instead." Rhen looked at Aira. "Go."

  Aira forced herself to walk calmly. Not run. Not flee. Just walk to Deakin's office like this was normal.

  But inside, her mind was racing.

  He knew. Somehow he knew about last night. About the thirty gold. About interfering with collections.

  She'd been careful. Silent. Did the mother talk? It had been hours, not even a full day. But maybe Delain had checked on Farris early. Maybe someone had seen her leaving the apartment. Maybe—

  She reached Deakin's office. Knocked.

  "Come in."

  She stepped inside. Deakin was at his desk, reviewing papers. He didn't look angry. Didn't look like a man about to discipline a member who'd undermined gang authority.

  He looked... busy. Practical. Like this was just another meeting.

  "Sit."

  She sat. Kept her hands steady. Her expression neutral.

  Deakin set down his papers. "Cass is still in jail. City Guard Captain is being difficult about the bribe. We're working on it, but it'll take time." He pulled out a map. "In the meantime, we have a problem. Cass was arrested at a medical clinic. Got into a fight with City Guard at the docks, escaped, but took serious injuries. Went to a clinic for treatment. Guards tracked him there. Arrested him while he was getting stitched up."

  Aira said nothing. Waiting.

  "The clinic reported him. Cooperated with City Guard fully." Deakin's voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. "That's a problem. We use that clinic sometimes. Serpent members who need treatment but don't want questions. The owner, Physician Maren, has been neutral. Treats anyone who pays. Doesn't report. Until now."

  "What changed?"

  "City Guard pressure. They've been cracking down on clinics that treat criminals. Threatening to shut them down, revoke licenses. Maren chose compliance over loyalty." Deakin tapped the map. "That makes the clinic a liability. If they'll report Cass, they'll report anyone."

  Aira began to understand where this was going.

  "Yara tells me you're making exceptional progress with storm script. Says that Focus glyph you're testing has accelerated your learning significantly." Deakin studied her. "She also says you have Church-quality healing glyphs already. Minor Healing. Basic medical knowledge."

  "Yes."

  "We need alternatives to outside medical care. Too risky now. I want you to become that alternative." He slid a piece of paper across the desk. An address. "This is Maren's clinic. Three floors. Ground floor is treatment area. Second floor is supplies and records. Third floor is residence. I want you to break in. Steal their medical supplies, bandages, antiseptics, surgical tools. And more importantly, steal their glyph reference materials. Any manuals on healing techniques, glyph patterns, medical procedures."

  Aira looked at the address. The clinic was in the Dock District. Neutral territory. A legitimate business that served the poor, offered cheap medical care to people who couldn't afford Church hospitals.

  A place that helped people.

  "Use the reference materials you steal to learn advanced healing techniques. In three months, maybe six, you'll be competent enough to handle basic medical emergencies. Stitches, infections, broken bones. Anything that doesn't require surgery."

  "You want me to become the Serpent physician?"

  "I want you to be useful. You're already a good thief. Fast learner. But thieves are common. Healers aren't. A healer who's also Serpent, who won't report injuries to authorities, who can patch up members after fights, that's valuable. It’s worth investing in."

  He leaned back. "Make the Focus glyph permanent. It costs what, two square centimeters of Canvas? Worth it for accelerated learning. Study hard. Yara will help with theory, but the practical work is on you."

  Aira thought about what he was asking.

  Steal from a legitimate medical clinic. Take their supplies, their knowledge, their ability to help the poor. All so she could learn to help Serpents instead.

  Become a healer by robbing healers.

  The irony was so thick it was suffocating.

  But she'd wanted to learn healing. Had crossed mountains for this. Had joined a gang specifically to access this kind of training.

  And now Deakin was offering it. On a silver platter. All she had to do was steal it from people who actually deserved to keep it.

  "When?" she asked.

  "Two days. Gives you time to scout the location." Deakin pulled the map back. "Rhen will be your lookout again. He's reliable. Knows the Dock District well."

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Understood."

  "Good. Scout the clinic location today." He returned to his papers. "That's all. Dismissed."

  Aira stood. Started to leave.

  "One more thing," Deakin said.

  She stopped. Turned.

  "You're proving yourself valuable. Reliable. That's good. Keep it up." His eyes were cold. Calculating. "The organization rewards loyalty. Invests in useful members. Continue being useful, and your position here becomes very secure."

  "Thank you sir."

  She left. Closed the door behind her. Stood in the hallway, breathing carefully.

  He didn't know. Didn't suspect. This wasn't about last night. Just about Cass. About the clinic. About making her useful.

  She wasn't caught.

  But she wasn't relieved either.

  Because now she had orders to rob a medical clinic. Steal from healers so she could become one. Take supplies meant for the poor so she could patch up criminals.

  Everything she'd wanted, healing training, medical knowledge, the ability to help people, was being offered to her. The price was just stealing it from people who actually used it to help.

  She climbed the stairs to her room and changed into plain clothes. Just another dock worker moving through the streets.

  The clinic was three blocks from the waterfront. A narrow three-story building wedged between a fishmonger and a boarding house. The sign above the door read: Maren's Clinic - Affordable Care for All.

  Aira walked past once. Studying. The ground floor had large windows. She could see inside. A waiting area with wooden benches. Maybe ten people sitting there. Poor clothes. Dock workers. Street vendors. A mother with two small children.

  All waiting to see a physician they could afford.

  She circled the block. Found the alley behind the building. One door at ground level, locked, heavy. A window on the second floor, small, barred. Fire escape leading to the third floor.

  She climbed onto an adjacent rooftop. Got a better view. The third-floor windows had curtains. Residence, like Deakin had said.

  From her vantage point, she could see the clinic's rear courtyard. Laundry hanging. A small herb garden. Medical supplies drying in the sun, bandages, recently washed.

  She watched for an hour. Counting. Timing.

  Patients entered through the front. Stayed an average of thirty minutes. Physician Maren appeared once, older woman, maybe sixty, gray hair tied back, efficient movements as she escorted a patient out and called the next one in.

  She looked tired. Overworked. Like someone who treated too many patients for too little money because someone had to.

  City Guard patrol passed twice during the hour. Regular intervals. Predictable routes.

  In the back of the building, a young man periodically carried out waste. Medical refuse in one basket. Regular trash in another. He dumped both in bins behind the building. Returned inside without locking the back door.

  A weakness. He'd done it twice during her observation. Unlocked door for maybe two minutes while he dealt with the bins.

  She could use that. Slip in during a trash run. But she could probably pick the lock without too much trouble.

  The second-floor window had bars, but they were old. Rusted. Like everything else in the building, functional but worn. Maintained on too little budget by people who cared more about helping than profit.

  She climbed down from the roof. Walked past the clinic one more time.

  Through the window, she saw a young girl. Maybe eight years old. The girl was crying. Her arm bandaged. Her mother holding her hand.

  Aira thought for a moment, then looked around. She saw something that would work. A boy, maybe ten, sitting against a wall near the corner by a fishmonger. Not begging. Just sitting. One eye swollen shut, crusted with discharge.

  Street kid. Probably orphaned. Nobody taking care of him. She walked over to him and crouched down beside him. "That eye looks bad."

  He looked at her with his good eye. "I'm fine."

  "Doctor's right there. Won't cost much." She pulled out a copper coin. "I'll pay for it. And buy you food after."

  He studied her. Suspicious. Street kids learned not to trust offers.

  "Why?"

  "Because I need to see inside that clinic. And you need treatment before you lose the eye." She held out the coin. "Deal?"

  He took the coin. Nodded once.

  The waiting room was still crowded.

  Aira found two seats near the back. She directed the boy to one seat and took the other.

  "What's your name?"

  "Tam."

  "I'm Aira. When the doctor asks, say I'm your sister. Makes it simpler."

  He nodded. They waited.

  Twenty minutes later, they were called in.

  Maren looked younger in person, closer to fifty than sixty. Efficient movements. No time wasted. She gestured to an examination chair. "Let's see that eye."

  While she examined Tam, Aira looked around. Medical supplies on shelves. Reference books. A door leading to storage. Another door to stairs leading up to the next floor.

  "That eye is definitely infected," Maren said. "Not serious yet, but it will be if untreated. You brought him just in time." She prepared an ointment.

  She cleaned the eye thoroughly. Applied the ointment. Then a clean bandage.

  “Now for a healing glyph.” She pulled open a drawer and pulled out an ink vial. “I’ll apply it to the skin. It’s not permanent. But you need to hold him still.”

  Maren was fast. She had the healing glyph drawn on Tam’s forehead in minutes.

  "Use this twice daily. Come back in a week if it's not better." She handed Aira a small jar. "Six copper. Or free if you can't pay."

  Aira pulled out six coppers. "We can pay."

  Maren took it. “Thank you. Every little bit helps.”

  Aira thanked her and left. Outside, she bought Tam grilled fish from a vendor. He wolfed the food down.

  Aira walked Tam back to his spot near the fishmonger. Gave him the jar. "Use this twice daily. Don't lose that eye."

  He pocketed it carefully. "Why'd you help?"

  "I didn't. I paid for your time. Just business."

  He studied her for a moment. Then nodded. He understood life in the gutter.

  He disappeared into the crowd.

  Aira stood there for a moment. Maybe a kid's eye was saved today. In two days, she'd rob the clinic that could save hundreds more.

  Small victories. Small betrayals. The numbers never balanced.

  An hour later, she was in the common room when Delain and Rhen returned from collections.

  They looked normal. Not distressed or disheveled. Not like they'd just dragged a fifteen-year-old to a brothel.

  Aira waited until Delain had reported to Deakin and left. She approached Rhen casually. He was pouring tea at the counter.

  "How were collections?" she asked. Neutral. Just making conversation.

  "Fine. Standard stops. No problems." He added sugar to his tea.

  "The guy from yesterday? Farris?"

  "Paid in full. Thirty gold. Right on deadline.” Rhen took a sip of his tea. "Delain thinks a rival gang must have made him a loan."

  "Why?"

  "Timing.” Rhen shrugged. "Three weeks late, then suddenly full payment right before we take the girl. He must be fond of his daughter.”

  "What do you think?"

  “The debt’s paid.” He looked at Aira. "But if it’s a rival gang making loans on our turf, we’ll have to act. Delain is going to try and find out where Farris got the money.”

  Aira felt dread in her chest. Kira was safe, but if Delain got the mother to talk? Aira would be in deep trouble.

  "Hmmm," Aira said. Casual. Like she didn’t care about the matter.

  Rhen took another sip of his tea. "We’ve got a job coming up in the Dock District?"

  "In a couple days."

  "The Dock District has heavy City Guard presence right now because of that fight with Cass. Make sure you know the patrol routes." He put his cup down.

  "I scouted today while you were out."

  He nodded. Left.

  Aira stood there, holding a cup of tea she'd poured but not drunk.

  She'd saved one person. For the moment. Her plan could still come unraveled.

  She took her tea upstairs. Sat on her bed.

  Tomorrow she'd make the Focus glyph permanent. Lose two more square centimeters of Canvas forever. Commit to accelerated learning through Church augmentation.

  In two days, she'd rob a medical clinic. Steal supplies meant for the poor. Take knowledge meant to heal and use it to serve criminals.

  She'd become a healer by destroying other healers' ability to help.

  But that wasn’t the real problem. She wasn’t going to be able to stay with the Serpents. Soon or later the Serpents would find out she didn’t have what it took to be a gangster.

  She still had a conscience and it was going to get her killed.

  [STATUS UPDATE]

  Name: Aira Age: 17

  Level: 0

  Mental Canvas: 36 cm2

  Scripts Memorized: 16 (11 functional tattooed, 1 decorative)

  Storm Script Progress: Basic theory

  Humanity: 55 → 56

  [You saved Kira, little spark. But now you must rob people who help the poor so you can help criminals. Every victory has a price. Every choice narrows your path.]