“A remedy celebrated in one hall may still be needed in a hundred homes.”
— From the journal of an Elune travelling physician
The seventh seal was taking far too long.
Dàre watched the presiding physician lower her stamp onto the last page. For a moment, the ivory handle hovered above the document. Then it descended with a dull crack.
Seven seals. Eleven years of research. Three days of questions from people who knew exactly where to look for weaknesses.
“Physician Dàre of Elune,” the woman said.
He rose, tall and broad-shouldered in his plain travelling robe. Silver had begun to thread the close coils at his temples and the short beard framing his strong jaw. The seven reviewers sat beneath enormous anatomical diagrams. Dàre could name the work each had spent a lifetime mastering; three had spent the last few days identifying mistakes he fervently wished he’d found first.
Dàre had been advised to wear ceremonial clothing. He had settled for polishing his boots and replacing the indigo threads around the ivory bead in his right ear. If his conclusions required a more expensive robe to be believed, they were in trouble already.
“The board accepts the findings submitted by you and your collaborators,” the presiding physician announced. “The treatment has demonstrated protective effects against the specified diseases under the conditions examined. It may proceed to controlled clinical use by properly trained practitioners.”
Behind him came a sharp intake of breath.
Làmi.
She had helped run the studies, challenged Dàre’s assumptions with ruthless consistency and spent the previous night predicting rejection. He suspected she was now trying not to cry. He remembered her quiet determination through years of uncertain results, and how often it had kept the work honest.
The physician continued through the restrictions. Their method was not protection against every illness. Some effects might weaken with time. Changing strains needed further study. Preparation, transport and administration had to be controlled, and patients monitored as the treatment became available beyond Elune.
Dàre reached for his quill as if to correct them. Then he remembered that he had written three of those conditions himself.
He remembered the earliest trials, when promising results had appeared in one group and failed to repeat in another. There had been seasons when he doubted whether the treatment would ever be reliable enough to leave their research tents. Làmi had insisted on checking every discrepancy, and Bọ́dé had rebuilt storage equipment after entire batches proved unsuitable for study. The work had moved forwards because none of them accepted a result simply because they wanted it to be true.
Dàre loosened his grip on the edge of the table.
Still, as the presiding physician gathered her papers, a thin voice rose from the end of the table.
“One matter remains.”
Physician Oren.
Dàre turned.
The elderly reviewer had spent two days dismantling questions Dàre thought were settled. He had a gift for identifying precisely the inconvenient uncertainty at the centre of any confident answer.
“Your results are impressive,” Oren said. “But Elune is a travelling medical organisation. Your treatment requires trained hands and carefully preserved materials. How will you deliver it beyond the facilities in which you proved it works?”
“We’ve designed a method.”
“Designed,” Oren repeated. “Or established?”
Dàre signalled to Làmi. “The transport case, please.”
She rose with a slim wooden case and placed it on the demonstration table. When Dàre opened it, sealed compartments gleamed beneath a compact measuring device.
“The treatment doesn’t depend on my Spark,” he explained. “The preparation and clinical procedure can be taught. We’ve tested transport cases using insulation, contamination safeguards, regulated conditions and indicators that reveal when a sample may no longer be suitable.”
“Expensive equipment,” Oren observed.
“For now. That’s why distribution begins where the necessary facilities exist. We train physicians, establish safe handling, then expand carefully. We don’t send material somewhere it cannot be kept effective simply to claim we’ve reached another town.”
Oren studied the compartments.
“And communities without those resources?”
“They are precisely why we must make this method reliable enough to travel eventually. A remedy that helps only the patients living beside my laboratory isn’t the best remedy we can build.”
The chamber was quiet.
After a moment, Oren set down his notes.
“Then my concern is satisfied. Keep those safeguards in place.”
“They will,” the presiding physician said.
She looked at Dàre.
“Congratulations.”
He had imagined this moment during years of failed trials, late nights and months away from his family. In those imaginings he had always found a fitting speech.
Now there was only a broad, almost embarrassing relief.
“Thank you,” he managed.
Làmi reached him before he left the table. She embraced him, then drew back and struck his shoulder.
“They accepted it.”
“It still feels strange hearing them say it.”
“The seals are there, Dàre. All seven.”
He laughed. Bọ́dé appeared beside them with a stack of records hugged to his chest, his spectacles already removed.
“Eleven years,” he said.
“Eleven years,” Dàre agreed.
Bọ́dé tightened his grip on the records. “I’d like to invoice everyone who called the research a waste of time.”
“Invite them to help with the next trial.”
Làmi made an outraged sound. Even Oren seemed amused.
* * *
Outside, the city had not stopped for his achievement.
Merchants argued over fish in the lower market. Carts climbed the terraced roads. Apprentices hurried between shops as lamps powered by Chi stones began to brighten beneath bronze shades.
Dàre stood on the medical hall’s steps with the sealed approval in his hand. It felt heavier now than it had inside.
Làmi joined him.
“You’re thinking about the next trial.” Get faster updates on g.com.
“Was it that obvious?”
“You haven’t put the document down.”
Bọ́dé arrived with the remaining records.
“We leave tomorrow,” he announced. “I won’t spend another week climbing these stairs for people who need a document they’ve already seen.”
Dàre looked north. He had been away long enough that he knew his children more by letters than by recent habits. Simi’s notes were thoughtful and increasingly precise. Khepri’s were usually accompanied by sketches that made any sensible parent anxious.
“I need to contact the caravan first,” he said.
Bọ́dé sighed. “Of course you do.”
The communication house stood near the eastern market. Its bronze terminals hummed with pale Chi light while attendants connected distant settlements through a network of relay stones.
Dàre waited as an operator tuned the rings around a receiver.
“Clan Elune,” he said. “Their caravan should still be near the eastern crossing.”
The light flickered once, twice, and held.
“Elune receiving,” said a woman’s voice.
Dàre smiled. “Have I interrupted?”
“Dàre? You’re meant to be in the hearing.”
“I was.”
A pause.
“Well?”
He looked at the seals.
“Approved.”
The silence on the line lasted only a heartbeat before something clattered at the other end.
“The findings?”
“Accepted. The treatment can be used by trained physicians under the conditions we proposed.”
“Eleven years,” the clan head said, her voice unsteady. “You went out carrying one question. Look what you’re bringing home. Rest a little, Dàre.”
“It wasn’t mine alone. Làmi, Bọ́dé, Sẹ́ni, the other researchers—”
“I know.” Her voice softened. “We’ll gather everyone.”
“Make certain they understand the restrictions.”
“Dàre.”
“Right. Of course.”
“And when are you coming home?”
“A few days. We leave in the morning.”
“Tell me you’re taking the main road.”
Dàre considered the northern forests they would pass.
“Mostly.”
“No.”
“There’s good game along that route. We could bring something for the celebration.”
“A sensible hunt?”
“Naturally.”
“That wasn’t reassuring.”
He laughed. “Tell Simi I want to hear about her lessons. And tell Khepri to leave my research cases alone.”
“I can pass on the message. I cannot guarantee obedience.”
“Neither can I.”
The light faded. When Dàre emerged, Làmi was waiting with their supplies.
“Have you decided how to celebrate?” she asked.
“A few days with my children.”
“That would be sensible.”
“And perhaps a hunt on the way.”
She stopped walking.
“No detours. We have equipment to deliver.”
* * *
Two days later, the northern road gave way to older forest. Trees crowded together above deep roots and cold streams, casting long shadows even at midday. Bọ́dé had objected to leaving the main route at breakfast. He objected again after they crossed the first stream. By the time they reached the hunting grounds, Dàre had lost count.
“This,” Bọ́dé said, “is our last chance to reconsider.”
“You said that at the stream.”
“And I was right then.”
Làmi raised one hand.
The men fell quiet. Bark had been stripped from a tree well above their heads. Below it, enormous hoofprints marked the soft ground. Something moved beyond a screen of leaves. This chapter was taken from NovelPing without permission.
They approached a clearing.
The animal within was taller than their transport wagon and nearly twice as long. Slate-grey hide covered its powerful shoulders. Pale bands ran across its back, and branching horns swept upward from its head as it stripped leaves from a low tree.
Dàre looked delighted.
“Now that would feed the celebration.”
Bọ́dé stared at him.
“Absolutely not.”
“The valley could eat from this for a week.”
“That wagon won’t carry it.”
The creature turned.
Làmi gripped her bow.
“Dàre.”
He saw its nostrils flare a moment before it charged.
Branches snapped against the horns. Hooves struck the earth hard enough to shake loose stones. Dàre set an arrow to his bow and released before the others had finished moving.
The shaft lodged in the beast’s neck.
The impact alone scarcely slowed it.
Dàre’s Chi flowed along his connection to the arrow. His single Spark, Accretion, let the effect of that successful strike gather force in layers. A ripple passed through the point of impact, bending the creature’s head aside.
The beast stumbled, recovered and roared.
Bọ́dé lifted his weapon.
“It’s coming again!”
“Behind me,” Dàre said.
Làmi stepped aside, clearing his line of sight while keeping her own bow ready.
The animal lowered its horns and charged harder, furious now, closing the distance between them with each heavy stride.
Dàre kept the link steady, feeding Chi into the growing impact as the creature bore down.
He waited.
Twenty paces.
Ten.
Bọ́dé shouted something unflattering about his judgment.
Dàre snapped his fingers.
The next accumulated ripple drove through the same point with devastating force. The beast’s charge ended at once. Its great horns spun above the clearing as the massive body fell, raising dust and sending leaves trembling through the canopy.
For several seconds there was only the settling forest.
Dàre lowered his hand.
“Is everyone all right?”
Bọ́dé stared from the fallen quarry to his friend.
“Your Spark is ridiculous.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t praise.”
“I know. You’re right to be angry.”
Làmi lowered her bow.
“You could have warned us you meant to let it come that close.”
“I told you to move behind me.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
He conceded the point with a smile.
Only when they approached the animal did Dàre seem to consider a practical difficulty.
Bọ́dé measured the distance to the road.
“How many animals will we need to pull that?”
“More than we brought,” Dàre admitted.
Làmi began laughing.
* * *
The effort proved expensive. At a transport station near the northern road, Bọ́dé negotiated for a reinforced wagon and four strong pack animals while Làmi arranged the supplies needed to secure their quarry. Dàre helped the station workers prepare the load, listening to Bọ́dé complain that the station owner would grow wealthy from one foolish hunt.
By morning they were travelling towards Elune. The familiar hills came into view. Smoke rose in thin columns from the cooking fires, and the sight made the journey’s final miles seem longer than all the roads before them. Dàre recognised a split boulder where Khepri had once collected mineral fragments, and the stream where Simi had tried to teach her brother how to bandage a scraped knee.
He wondered how much they had changed. In Simi’s latest letter, she had described helping an injured boy through recovery and asked questions more thoughtful than some he had received from trained clinicians. Khepri had sent a drawing of a patient carrier filled with corrections in several different hands. Dàre had studied it for an hour, alternately impressed by his son’s ingenuity and alarmed by the confidence with which he labelled untested pieces “perfectly safe”.
He wanted to hear them argue in person. He wanted a meal that did not end with someone asking him to examine another table of results. Most of all, he wanted to be present for the small discoveries that never found their way into letters.
He touched the sealed document beneath his cloak.
Soon the work could belong to others as well. For a little while, he would belong at home.