Page 15 of Bound By Blood
"Ready for your first lesson?"
"I thought I'd already had it. Surgery by moss-light seemed fairly comprehensive."
"That was an introduction. Today we begin proper education." She hands me the wrapped food, some kind of flatbread filled with herbs and what might be goat cheese. It tastes better than it has any right to, considering my circumstances. "Eat quickly. The morning gathering starts soon."
The morning gathering takes place in a circular chamber next to the main healing grotto. Fifteen healers of various ages and specializations sit cross-legged on woven mats, sharing observations and discussing cases with the focused intensity I remember from my mother's medical councils.
"Today we have a new colleague," Helka announces as we enter. "Lady Eirian will be observing our methods while sharing her own traditions. Integration benefits everyone."
The healers regard me with expressions ranging from curiosity to skepticism. I recognize the look. It's the same one I've given battlefield medics who claimed unconventional techniques worked better than established practices.
"Tell us about this lung-drainage procedure," says an elderly male healer whose ritual scars form spirals around his temples. "The tools you used, the precise incision points, the reasoning behind your approach."
For the next hour, I explain human surgical techniques to an audience that asks penetrating questions about anatomy, sterile procedures, and post-operative care. Their knowledge of the body's systems proves remarkably sophisticated, though their terminology differs from my training.
"Interesting," Nasha murmurs when I finish describing proper suture patterns. "We achieve similar results usingdifferent methods. Our bone-needles encourage natural healing responses that your silk threads might actually inhibit."
"How so?"
"The body recognizes foreign materials as intrusions. Natural sinew triggers regenerative processes that synthetic materials suppress." She produces a needle carved from what looks like bird bone, its surface polished to surgical smoothness. "This carries healing properties from the creature it came from. Eagle bone for lung injuries, bear bone for muscle trauma, fish bone for circulatory damage."
"That sounds like superstition."
"Does it?" Helka's voice carries gentle challenge. "Your people use willow bark for pain relief, don't they? Foxglove for heart conditions? Moldy bread for infected wounds? Where's the line between medicine and magic?"
The question haunts me as we move to practical demonstrations. I watch Nasha treat a minor fracture using techniques that should be impossible according to my training, yet the results speak for themselves. The patient walks away with full mobility and no apparent discomfort.
"How?"
"Bone speaks to bone. Blood calls to blood. We listen to what the body needs rather than imposing what we think it should accept." She shows me her collection of specialized tools, each carved from different materials for specific purposes. "Your methods focus on intervention. Ours emphasize cooperation."
The morning passes quickly as I observe their approach under various conditions. They use combinations of herbs I've never seen, apply heat and cold that follows no logical system, yet achieve consistent results that would impress any physician in the Seven Kingdoms.
"Try this," says a younger healer, offering me a small clay pot filled with green paste. "For muscle strain and joint inflammation."
I dab a small amount on my wrist, expecting the familiar burn of most medicinal salves. Instead, I feel a warmth that penetrates deep into the joint, followed by a loosening sensation I haven't experienced in weeks.
"What's in it?"
"Mountain mint, hot springs clay, powdered elk antler, and three drops of cave-bloom nectar." She lists the ingredients matter-of-factly, as if everyone should know such things. "The proportions change based on the patient's constitution and the phase of the moon."
"The moon affects medicinal properties?"
"Everything affects everything else. Isolation is an illusion your people maintain to feel more in control." Helka approaches with an armful of dried herbs, roots, and preserved organs. "This afternoon, you'll help prepare medicines. Time to learn what your hands can do when they're guided by wisdom instead of mere technique."
The afternoon proves even more challenging than the morning. I'm accustomed to precise measurements and standardized preparations, but Orc herbalism operates on principles of intuition and adaptation. Each medicine is crafted for specific individuals based on factors I barely understand.
"Feel the energy," Nasha instructs as I attempt to grind a mixture of roots into powder. "Don't force the motion. Let the mortar guide your rhythm."
"How can I feel energy in dead plant matter?"
"Because it's not dead. Dormant, perhaps. Waiting for the right touch to awaken its potential." She shows with her own mortar, movements flowing like a dance. Under her hands, the roots release fragrances that shifts and develop complexity."Life force doesn't simply disappear when breathing stops. It transforms."
I try to mimic her technique, focusing on sensation rather than mechanical precision. Gradually, my grinding motion smooths into something more fluid, and I detect subtle changes in the mixture's consistency and aroma.
This shouldn't work. This violates everything I learned about proper pharmaceutical preparation.
Yet somehow, it works. The medicine I prepare under Nasha's guidance looks and smells identical to her demonstration batch, despite using no measurements more precise than "a pinch" or "until it feels right."
