It was an unnecessary detour, strictly speaking. The path from Scalvoris Town to Egilrun didn't pass Almund, not even close. Jinyel could perhaps say that he’d gotten lost, once he got back, but felt a weak lie even to think of it. Not that he was truly worried about repercussions. The Hollow Prince was an accommodating master, and there was a chance he simply wouldn’t ask. If he did, well… Jinyel would only think about that bridge if he came to it.
Once, Almund had seemed the pinnacle of civilization. It was the first city Jinyel had seen with his own eyes, and the patchwork of ship parts stacked atop one another had made his head spin. The people, the streets, the sidelong glances, it all seemed so much when he first arrived.
But after Scalvoris Town, Almund wasn’t nearly so frightening. It was smaller, with less lawmen. Less strangers who fancied themselves heroes. Less eavesdroppers who were eager to meddle in another’s business.
Almund was more dangerous than either Egilrun or Scalvoris Town. And oddly enough, that danger put Jinyel at ease. Danger was honest. Danger was something he knew.
Danger was something which drew him in.
Dukahrn’s Medical Facility stood just where and how he remembered: the shell of an old cargo barge, flipped and dragged ashore with plenty of space inside for all sorts of treatment. As Jinyel stood there watching, there came a scream deep inside the building. Not one of the passersby even glanced over.
This place had a reputation for screams.
Jinyel relaxed his posture, and allowed his arms to swing freely at his sides. He’d kept them awkwardly motionless as he entered the city, because he didn’t like curious glances. In a place like Scalvoris Town, he suspected there would have been many curious glances toward the way his cloak caught on the two long spikes emerging from his elbows.
Jinyel had done his best to absorb the boulder snake fangs. And then adhere them. And detach them. And adhere them again. The things were as long as rapiers, and he had two of them, and there simply was nowhere on his body that they would fit. He had a precise idea of what he wanted: two weapons in each arm, which could be extended and retracted like a cat’s claw. Only, these claws were so, so big.
And so the young hunter sought help, and stepped into Dukahrn’s Medical Facility with the grafted snake fangs on full display. Monya followed at his heels, a bit larger and fluffier than last they’d been here.
The man at the front counter saw him, blinked, and then asked, “Er… surgery, I presume?”
He presumed correctly, though perhaps not in the way he imagined. Jinyel dipped his head and replied, Yes. It was such a simple gesture that no sign language was needed to understand it.
The man nodded, and in due time there came the surgeon Jinyel remembered: mixed Biqaj, otter on her heels, a wistful look on her face and soft shawl around her shoulders. Lilianna Joteyn recognized him in an instant.
“You!” She lit up with a brilliant smile. “You’re alive! How wonderful to see you again… Hunter, was it?”
Her otter scampered up to Monya, and the two animals gave hesitant sniffs to one another. After a moment, the wolf’s tail wagged. The otter chirped. They also recognized each other.
The surgeon, meanwhile, circled around Jinyel with a keen eye. “How is your back? You left so quickly the last time, I didn’t have the chance to clean up the edges.”
My back heals well. Then, remembering she didn’t know sign, he gestured to his mouth. Then he made the sign for closed, which was an obvious one.
“Oh, yes, of course. Your… dental situation.” She grinned at the front desk. “Taking him back, Eboryl. Consultation and all that. I’ll tell you the financials once we’ve worked out what he needs.”
He followed her to a sparse room with a table set in its center, the surrounding shelves laden with surgical implements. Doctor Joteyn circled him again, eyes on his back.
“Now, shall we take those off? I can’t tell what needs doing unless I see the injury.”
“My injury heals well.” Jinyel turned to face her. “I need something else.”
It took a moment for her to meet his eye, so fascinated was she by his teeth. “Oh? You seem in good health. Perhaps an internal injury ails you? I will never turn away someone who needs to be looked at from the inside.”
“Inside,” he echoed. “Sort of. Inside my…”
Jinyel blushed. He couldn’t help it. She had that same childlike amazement at blood and guts which he himself had, but still it made him nervous to show it openly. Like one child showing another their favorite toy, which they knew none of the other children would like.
“Inside my arm,” he said, and raised it to show her. Embarassment, shyness, excitement. “I’m not injured. I want to put something inside my arm.”
“You want… what?” Not startled, but intrigued beyond measure. Good. Intrigue was better than disgust.
Graft: Adhere: Detach.
Jinyel lifted his sleeve and separated one of the fangs from his body, so loosely connected that it needed no more magic than to detach a scab.
“It’s attached!” the doctor exclaimed. “You’re… oh. You’re a mage. You’re one of those mages.” She grinned, low and dark.
Jinyel put a finger to his lips. Tell no one.
“Oh, don’t allow a single worry to cross your mind. This is Dukahrn’s. We won’t ever say a word about what happens in these walls.”
Good. Jinyel put the fang against his forearm. “I want to put this in my arm, to extend and retract as a cat does its claws.” Except…
“It’s very large.” The doctor put a thoughtful finger to her chin. “You want the whole bone? Spike? Whatever it is?”
Yes. “I went through too much trouble to not use all of it.”
“Hmm. Can it be cut?”
Jinyel blinked. Cut? Well, I suppose it could, but… “Why? It is precious to me.”
“I’m sure. But you want to use all of it, don’t you? If it can be cut into segments, I wonder if they could be folded atop each other, and then reach full size once extended. One moment.”
She fetched a measuring string from a shelf, then measured the fang. She folded the measurement into two halves, then three, and compared it to Jinyel’s arm.
“Hmm. Well. I have some ideas as to how it might work, but I’d need to open your arm just to be certain.” She gave a mighty sigh, then managed a smile. “Just joking. I can work my theories from the outside if I must―”
“Open my arm, then, if it would give you certainty.”
She chuckled. “A sweet joke, to be sure, but―”
“It isn’t.”
She blinked. “I am talking about surgery.”
“I’m aware.” He lay on the table. His arm lay beside him, palm-up, and he raised a challenging eye to her. “You wish to look. Then look.”
A few moments of silence passed. The doctor looked from his eyes to his arm and back again, on the edge of belief but not quite over.
Then, she took a scalpel from a shelf. She strode to the table and held the blade against Jinyel’s arm.
“If this is a joke,” she murmured, “You’d best admit it now.”
He touched his arm with a chuckle. “Where will you cut? Show me.”
With a finger, she traced a line from his wrist to his elbow. There were arteries there, so perhaps that wasn’t the best place.
“Other side.” Jinyel turned his hand over to the top side, and with his own finger traced the mirror of her path. “This is where you’d put your knife?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
He took the scalpel. She let him. He closed his eyes and breathed, in and out, reaching out for the magic within him. His Graft spark responded eagerly, especially to such simple and familiar tasks. In breathless silence, she waited as long as he needed to do everything properly.
Graft: Energize: Create Flesh.
Graft: Energize: Dull Pain.
Both spells were done only halfway: energization to cap the blood vessels before they were opened, and then to reduce the sharpness of the cut to only an ache. Jinyel never liked to prevent pain entirely; it was a waste of ether, and made his injuries more difficult to track.
It felt like a bruise instead of a cut when he put the scalpel to his own skin and drew a long, clean line down the path. There was some blood, of course ― even Graft couldn’t stem this delicate work entirely ― but it was manageable. It wouldn’t endanger him.
Jinyel held the scalpel out. “Cut slowly. Tell me what you are about to do, and where you are about to go.”
The doctor took it with wide-eyed wonder. “What a fascinating creature you are.”
He gestured to his arm. Shall we begin?
She grinned, sat beside him, and began to cut.
