71

Chapter 11

"Oh, a bullet wound. I see. I'll be right back," Stone's grandfather- who has told me to call him Pine, sits me down on a City-made couch, and examines my calf. I swear I sink about a foot into the silky cushions, and I feel like I'm going to be suffocated by the giant feather cushions.
Pine walks over to a closet in a corner of the room, kneeling and opening some drawers. I take a look around the room. It's pretty big, the walls made of seasoned timber logs. There's even a window cut into the wall, with glass over it. I've never seen glass anywhere's except in the Exams. Cluttering the room are a large variety of chairs, all facing the roaring fireplace on the opposite wall. On the floor is a big black wool rug, embroidered with gold and red. Then I realize it's more of a tapestry. I glance over at Pine, who's still searching for something in his closet, and kneel down to get a better look at it.
It's faded and worn, threadbare in some places, but I can just make out the big picture. At the top, is a woven prince, below a fading kind and queen, wearing a crown of gold and silver thread. I get even closer- The prince's features are very, very familiar. I shake my head- The tapestry is either very old, or very worn, and there's no way it was who I thought it resembled. Still....
Below the prince is... A city, that is again, very familiar. A towering palace of spun glass, and mushroom shaped buildings, a city in the sky... The First City. I become more immersed in the woven storybook. The king and queen and prince are obviously the Rulers, who basically dictate the happenings in the world at their every whim.
Around the City, is a silver and muddled green lump- The Wold. At the dark edges of the forest, tiny threaded eyes glare out at the city, hungry yellow orbs. It makes me shiver.
"Ah, yes... A- gift to me, from my son..." Pine says unsurely, scratching his balding head.
I decided not to push it. He looked uncomfortable, so I helpfully changed the subject. To something more personal.
"Stone said you used to be a doctor in the City." I say, as Pine gently unwraps my bloody bandage.
"Sto- Oh, my grandson, yes. He did? Well, I've- I've been many, many things... Many things..." His pale blue eyes get misty with reminisces. I frown. I know something's going on.
"Oh, ah, yes, that is a bad wound." He says, jerking me out of my dark thoughts, as he finally peels the disgusting bandage off my flesh. A vile stench fills the air, and he immediately throws the bandage into the fireplace, where the inferno devours it.
"I think it's infected."
"I think you're right." He dabs the blood stained area around my leg with water, cleaning it up, then addresses the infected section. He coughs, opening up a glass vial of clear liquid. He dabs some onto a white cloth, then holds it next to the wound.
"This may sting a little," He says. Before I have time to ask what it is, he dabs it onto my leg. My leg muscles involuntarily convulse in pain, jerking the calf away from him. I grit my teeth, eyes watering. The strange liquid stinks of chemicals, and burns on my open, infected flesh.
"What. Is. That?" I barely manage to say through my teeth, closing my eyes to block out the pain.
"Rubbing alcohol. Yes, a terrible burn, but it kills the infection instantly." He says mildly.
"Really?" I try not to sound too sarcastic. I don't know about infection, but it sure felt like it was killing something.
"Oh, yes. Just a little bit more, and I can start fixing you up," Pine says cheerfully. I grab a cushion, pulling it onto my lap, and sink my fingers into it, eyes closed, as he dabs at the wound some more. Automatically, my claws shoot out, and I carefully set the pillow back down, feathers poking out of ten little holes. Pine sees the claws on my feet, though.
"Ah... So you're Impure?" I can tell he's trying to restrain himself, but his eyes dart up to my neck. If he's surprised, he hides it well, looking back down, as if branded people with numbers lower than 80 walk in his house every other day. I don't answer him.
"Nothing wrong with that, of course. In fact, my best costumers are Impure. Actually," He frowns, looking off into the distance, "All my costumers are Impure." He goes back to work, and it takes every ounce of my self-restraint not to tear my leg away, as the burning continues.
"Are you Pure?" I ask, noticing his shirt collar covers the spot where his brand would be. Without stopping in his work, he pulls down the ruff of his shirt, revealing the perfect little 100. I nod, and he tucks the collar back up. I've decided to like him anyway- He hasn't questioned me about my blood number, nor pestered me about the reason I have a bullet wound.
"That should do it," He says, throwing the cloth into the fireplace too. It flames up, the fire roaring louder than ever, until the cloth and the alcohol is disintegrated.
Pine picks up a small tin dish of what looks like wax- Except there are visible chunks of leaves and herbs entombed inside it.
"This is my special, homemade paste. I invented it, actually. Stops the bleeding," He dabs some into the hole on either side of my leg, where the bullet passed through. Immediately, the pain vanishes, as the cold substance touches my flesh.
"Now, just to sew you up." He takes out a plastic kit, pulling out surgical thread, and a sterile needle. I close my eyes again, though the pain is minimum compared to the alcohol. When I open my eyes, there is a very fine, almost invisible ridge, on either side of my leg.
"There you go," Pine says, examining his work. "Go ahead, walk around," He gathers his materials into his arms, looking up at me and nodding. Tentatively, I stand, having a hard time getting up from the plush couch.
At first I put my weight all on my right foot, but slowly I put down my left. I feel nothing out of the ordinary. After running from the Beast, my leg had been pounding with pain. Now, I feel like I could do it all again, and not feel a thing.
Taking a couple steps, I eventually try jumping on the left left, and feel nothing. After I'm sure it's mended, I turn back to Pine.
"That paste of yours could buy the entire City," I grin, and he chuckles, though I sense not wholeheartedly. He walks over to his medicinal closet, and shuts away his supplies.
"Thank you, so much, this is great," I say, overjoyed I can now run around without almost passing out in pain.
"Don't mention it. Any friend of C- Stone's, is a friend of mine. The stitches will disintegrate or fall out in a couple days time, once the flesh has completely joined together." He stands, stretching, before shutting the closet door. I've noticed by now that he and Stone, both, have been stumbling over Stone's name. I know not to push it, but to work my way in.
"Can I ask you one more favor?" I say carefully.
"Anything I can do for you." Pine says gladly, striding over to the fire, and picking up a stoke.
"Do you happen to have any maps?"
"Maps?" He repeats as he tends the fire. Flames lick the stone walls of the fireplace like the tongues of a million hungry Beasts.
"You know, maps of the Wold. The entire Wold." I say carelessly.
"Why?"
"Stone and I are going to the mountains. He said there's a rebel force gathering there." The stoke rakes the coals, embers sparking, fire roaring from the dying wood.
"He did, did he?" Pine says. I can't see his face, nor his expression, but his shoulders are sagging.
"Yeah, so I was wondering if you happened to have any maps of the Wold, to help shorten our journey?"
He's silent for a long time. When finally he turns, the enlivened flickering light of the fire plays games across his face, chasing the shadows in a dance that makes his features haughty, and yet somehow kingly.
"Yes, I have maps. In the other room, come with me."