2.5 – Filo Elici {Threaded Cog}

How are all of the rooms in the palace so bright? Despite the urgency in the others around her, Elena’s thoughts were idle, almost unconcerned. There have to be some rooms that aren’t full of windows, but then I’ve only ever seen a tiny fraction of the rooms of the palace, chances are I’ve just not encountered them before.

Cofrancesco and Vecelio carefully led Elena down the long double line of beds, supporting her every time she got too dizzy and nearly fell. Every bump and jostle was enough to send another blossom of pain up her arm to join the sharp throbbing that shot from the palm of her hand all the way up to her elbow.

“Deia, Elena what happened?” Arta rushed up to the group as soon as she saw them, leaving Arturo laying in his bed at the end, bandaged foot propped up on a stack of pillows. Next to his bed, Masters Artemis and Apollo had been sitting, but they both rose as well.

“A knife happened,” Ele said darkly.

“We were just with her less than two hours ago!” Master Apollo said, “you have quite a way of attracting danger to you, girl.”

“Lucciano has helped us uncover a spy for the smuggling ring we’ve been investigating,” Vecelio said, as the two of them helped Elena into a bed across from Arturo.

“On her first day helping us,” Cofrancesco added.

“He attacked her for her troubles, most likely to protect his fellow smugglers by silencing her,” Vecelio tucked an escaped hair behind her ear, “I’ll have to bring in another accountant to check over everything Be Pullo has done this entire time…and perhaps we’ll search his rooms, though I doubt he’d be so careless as to leave anything behind there.”

“You sussed out spies?” Master Artemis raised her eyebrows, “I’ve never encountered a Storm able to do that before. I can think of ten uses for it without having to ponder.”
“I’m telling you, she’s destined to be Hephaestus,” Master Apollo said.

“I couldn’t…I’d have to be in charge…” the room was spinning around Elena, and she was starting to feel sick, “Storm doesn’t work unless I’m in charge.”

“Well, I doubt Master Zeus would be pleased with that. We should let him know he’s got competition ahead of time,” Master Apollo grinned.

“Shouldn’t…is someone going to help Elena?” Arta asked.

“I’ve seen worse, she’ll live, but…” Vecelio looked around her, concerned, “normally the medicos are in this room…”

“Master Asclepius sent them away, since we’re in the palace anyways he figured he could take over their work. He’ll be back soon,” Master Artemis said. “And the man who did this? Did he die?”

“For some reason they decided to keep him alive,” Ele glowered.

“No harm came to him, the swine,” Vecelio frowned, “we’ve got guards taking him down to the dungeons now, he can share a cell with his friend, the kid we picked up last week.”

“Elena are you alright?” Arta stood close by the bed, wringing her hands and watching Elena closely. For her part, Elena was knitting her brows, focusing on her arm.

“Storm tells me…how to fix…things that are mine,” she managed, before falling back into silence. There should be prickles in her temples and fingertips, the Storm should be telling her how to fix her arm, how to stop the pain, why wouldn’t it?

Does my body not belong to me? she thought, forlorn. The memory of the rebels threatening to cut her palms so that she couldn’t work as a Fabera again had been playing through her head on a loop; it was the worst time for her Storm to start acting strangely.

The project is still mine, she thought, refocusing herself and trying to tune out Master Apollo and Vecelio discussing other arm wounds they had seen in the past. Instantly her head was awash with a flow of information, taking her attention even further from the pain in her arm. Her storm seemed almost eager to help her, giving her an amount of information small enough to comfortably consider, but not enough to overwhelm.

“Ah, here he is now. Master Asclepius, we’ve got another patient for you,” Master Apollo called. The man who had entered was younger than Elena had expected, even though she hadn’t really been thinking about what he might look like. He had brown hair cut so close she could see his scalp through it, and although he wore a white cloth tied around his mouth and nose, she could see the smile in his eyes.

“Master Apollo, exactly how many children do you plan on carving up while I’m here?” Master Asclepius said wryly as he approached.

“The blame for this one isn’t-”

Elena’s temples buzzed, so suddenly and fiercely that she couldn’t pay attention to what the Masters were saying.

Pay attention, stupid little thing. The voice of her Storm said in her head. Now that Elena could compare it to the voice of the real thing, she could identify that this one sounded almost entirely different. It felt younger, more combative, more…angry. Elena focused on her Storm, trying to listen to what it had to say. Surprisingly, what it had to say was very simple.

The Vecelio project belonged to Elena, which meant her Storm covered everyone who worked in the network.

This meant that she knew of actions taken in relation to the Vecelio project.

Be Pullo was not officially removed as a member of the project, and his decision to strangle the fellow smuggler that would be sharing his cell was related to the Vecelio project, and it buzzed in her head like an angry wasp.

“Stop them,” she gasped, reaching out and grabbing Vecelio’s arm. Without thinking she had used her slashed arm, and the pain was enough to send her reeling backwards, dizzy again.

“Easy there!” Master Asclepius cried, rushing to her side.

She pressed through the pain, “Be Pullo is going to kill the other one, don’t let them in the same cell.”

“Go,” Vecelio nodded, and she and Cofrancesco left the room at a run.

“If the rest of you don’t want to be kicked out as well, step away from the bed as well. You, I take it you’re her Echo? You can stay.” Master Asclepius took Elena’s arm carefully, holding it out and examining it carefully. He produced a piece of cloth from his pocket and dabbed away at the blood that covered the slashes, then clucked sympathetically. “Ah, I’m afraid this is going to be a bit rough, my dear,” he said, laying her arm back down on the bed, “to heal this the best we’ll need to seal your skin and flesh.”

“Are you a medico?” Elena asked. Her knowledge of medicine was nearly non-existent, but content to simply lay back and watch the man move, confidently and smoothly pulling materials from the small table at the end of the room.

“Of a sort,” Master Asclepius nodded, “I’m actually a Faberi.”

“What does a craftsman know about healing?” Elena asked, then realized it was a rather rude question to ask, “I mean…I’m sorry.”

“It’s a fair question,” Master Asclepius didn’t seem much offended, but Elena didn’t like the look of the instruments he brought over, setting them down on the bench at the foot of her bed, “my Storm works strangely, and rather uniquely. Instead of real craft, as far as I can tell it works by pretending that people are objects like furniture or tools. Whenever I try to practise real medicine it…well, things turn into a real mess. If I’m trying to balance humours I miss more than I hit, but if I just go along with my Storm, things work out much better.”

As he spoke, Master Asclepius lit a candle, arranging his tools along the bench out of Elena’s sight.

“Is that going to be hot enough?” Ele asked.

“Hot enough for what?” Elena’s heart beat faster, and each heartbeat sent a shock of pain up her arm.

“To seal skin and flesh together, a medico has to…has to um…” Ele looked uncomfortable.

“Please just tell me, Ele,” Elena whimpered.

“They have to burn it,” Ele said, not meeting her eyes, “they burn it closed.”

Elena looked down at her arm, imagining how much it would hurt, imagining the long and nasty scar it would leave.

It’s better than losing the arm, she thought, although her vision was blurry with tears, and I’ll still be a Fabera when it’s all over.

“Actually, that’s not what we’ll be doing,” Master Asclepius said matter-of-factly. He was holding something inside the flame, something that Elena couldn’t see through the tears.

“Is that…do you have a needle and thread?” Arta asked.

“I thought I said to step back?”

“You said Echoes were alright.”

“Ah, very well young lady, yes, this is a needle and thread. As I said, I’ve learned to trust my Storm, no matter how strange it might seem, and while miss Elena is in my care I hope she’ll do the same.”

“You’re going to sew her up?” Ele asked, his voice equally incredulous and angry, “like she’s a rag doll with a rip in it?”

“It’s not the weirdest thing he’s done, not by a long shot,” Master Apollo said from the window he’d retreated to, “you can trust him Hephaestus, he’s the oddest medico you’ll ever see, but if you let him do his rituals, the man can cheat death itself.”

“Why does the needle have to be so hot?” Ele asked.

“It doesn’t, I just have to pass it through the flame before I use it,” Master Asclepius said calmly, apparently unrattled by the Echo’s skepticism, “and before you ask, no, I have no idea why.” He set the needle down on the bed, then turned to a bowl full of water and dipped his hands within.

“Why do you need wet hands?” Arta asked.

“Look…it helps to think of it as a little prayer ritual I go through,” Master Asclepius sighed, “the mask, the water, the candle, there’s no real reason for any of them, but if I don’t do the ritual, my Storm is less effective, and that’s all there is to it.”

“But…that’s not how…” Ele spluttered.

“Drink this please,” Master Asclepius passed Elena a small glass flask filled with a yellow liquid. Elena swallowed it in one gulp, then gasped and blinked.

“It burns!” she coughed, “oh it burns!”

“That’s because it’s nearly entirely alcohol,” Master Asclepius said absentmindedly, threading the needle carefully, “it’s called ‘vodka’, I’ve had it brought in from Rusk.”

“Let me guess, you don’t know why you had her drink it?” Ele asked, as Elena continued to cough, her face flushing.

“Oh no, I’m quite aware why I had her drink it,” Master Asclepius said, using a thin knife to carefully remove the slashed and bloodstained sleeve from Elena’s dress with a few swift strokes, “I had her drink it because this…this is going to hurt quite a bit, I’m afraid.”

***

It had hurt, almost as much as the original slash had, but the warmth that had spread through her face and chest made the entire thing much more bearable, as if she was wrapped in a safe warm blanket and only watching the pain happen to someone else.

Master Asclepius’ hands were gentle on her skin and very steady, and Elena had watched him work with a kind of fascination, ignoring the odd tingles that his touch sent through her overly-hot head.

Now, though her entire arm throbbed numbly, Elena felt less dizzy and shaky. Her thoughts were a little fuzzy, the information from her Storm passed through it slower than normal, but she mused over what information she did have.

“You’ll want to rest, and be very careful with that arm for some time,” Master Asclepius said, washing the blood from his hands in the bowl, “and I would like for you to get some rest for at least a few days.”

“Can I stand on my feet for a few moments?” Elena asked, biting her lip and glancing towards the door towards where Vecelio and Cofrancesco watched. An idea was turning around in her head, fuzzy around the edges, but her Storm seemed to be in favor of it, “just a handful of minutes?”

“You could, but nothing strenuous,” Master Asclepius furrowed his brow.

“Good.” Elena slid out of the bed, looking at the stitching along her arm in grim fascination. “Vecelio, would you please help me down to the dungeons?”

“Elena…” Master Asclepius and Ele began in unison, both with tones of concern, but they were overwhelmed by Master Apollo’s laugh.

“Your first thought is to taunt the man who tried to slice you up?” He chuckled.

“Not taunt him, no.” The warm blanket had solidified somewhere in the pit of Elena’s stomach, where it burned like a furnace of anger that warmed her entire body, “he’s got some information that he needs to share with me.”

“Alright, you have my interest,” Master Apollo stood from where he had been lounging, “I’m coming with you, if only so I can see a tiny little girl get information out of a court-hardened smuggling palace spy.”

“This is a horrible idea,” Ele said.

“Do you want me there with you?” Confrancesco asked, as Vecelio began leading the way. Elena paused for a moment, the flame in her stomach surging through her veins.

“Meet us in the dungeons, but first,” her eyes flashed, “find me a hammer.”

***

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