It sounded like Justin found a few items of value by the time the door opened and a big figure stepped inside. I eventually looked up, and my blurry vision implied an orc with healer’s vestments on. They looked over at Justin and said, without candor, “You are not injured.” 

“Uh, yeah. My friend?”

The orc looked down at me and sighed. I think I felt the buzz and tingle of being subject to [Inspect], but it had happened so many times in the last few days, I barely registered it. Everything hurt. 

“I am going to need to wrestle him onto the table to cast. Will he bite?”

“Her name is Scaleen. And no she won’t.” Justin sounded angry. Awfully nice of him to be affronted on my account. I stopped watching them to stare dully at the floor again. 

I felt the big Orc lean over me and put two hands around my ankle joints and lift me, equipment and all, onto the bed. I couldn’t help it, I gave out a small shriek of pain, my breath whistling shrill. I think Justin stood up, because Healer Havram was suddenly gesturing over my head. 

“Stay back. You will only make it harder for him.”

“Scaleen is a ‘she’, be respectful!”

“Kid, this is not the first time I’ve seen a wizard mishandle their familiar. I know who to report you to at the college if I get annoyed enough.” Justin made a small noise but swallowed it. “And if you respected Scaleen, you’d know enough about Kobold biology to know that their males have feathered crests to attract danger away from the females. They can shift their sex, but judging by these scorched, intact quills, Scaleen is not going to lay eggs any time soon.” 

Something shifted on my neck and I twitched, trying to stand still, my tail and forearms resting on the bed. I may have keened again. It was hard to focus on just breathing while trying to remain lucid enough to hear. 

Havram leaned forward, their voice suddenly quiet in my ear. “I am sorry, Scaleen. I didn’t mean to take my ire out on you. I’ll stop dithering.” He cast a spell with both hands. It sounded like the standard {Diagnose} spell I’d heard a dozen times before. City Guards who knew the spell got a small pay bonus as it was a more reliable and less intrusive means to learn about a non-foe than [Inspect].

Havram stood upright again and said, “Stay back, I am going to start before Scaleen passes out.”

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then something seemed to unknot along my spine and I could breathe again, sweet cold air filling my lungs. Bit by bit, like I was being slowly submerged in an ice cold bath of ritually clean water, I could feel my flesh reknit together. 

I whimpered again, but it wasn’t from burns, just the unreal feeling of arcana rinsing away tortured flesh. The cold didn’t stop spreading.

It was not a comfortable sensation, alien and searing. It dove deeper into my body, into the core of me like none of the pain from the fight did. I wanted to die in a fire, or be torn apart in a mob, or just left to die in that alley. My mind was stuck to the ice cold heart of the magic, like a wet hand to a hard frozen pole, only something was rolling my consciousness along, sticking and unsticking at the same time and it was never going to end, trapped in an endless succession of pain.

Only after that eternity did I start to realize that the cold was receding, and I could hear Justin calling out a name. It was familiar. Oh, it was my name.

I loathed the healing, like everyone did, an invasion of unnatural aura to restore vitality. 

I understood why some combat veterans were strictly allergic to healers once they were out of the service. As the sensation slowly fled, I realized my teeth were clenched together so tightly it hurt. I must have cut my gums or cheek, because the cold, unpleasant feeling pressed into my mouth and washed through me again, like a second thrust of a blade. I unclenched my jaw, but kept my eyes closed tight. 

The healing disappeared, and I slowly relaxed. Havram had stepped back to hold Justin from getting at my recovering body. As the healer looked over me, I saw they were shaking slightly as well, their eyes swimming with tendrils of dark light, the feedback of the healing no more comfortable for them.  I’d sustained a lot of damage for a street-side private practice.

I didn’t get up immediately, my stamina still dangerously low. I was luxuriating in lungs full of air without pain so vicious as to steal that same breath away. 

Havram turned back to Justin, dropping his arms. “Just be more careful. I don’t know if Scaleen is some sort of family ‘heirloom’, or just a desperate soul who leased their life away, but they are not invulnerable. It’s still murder if you kill an indenture. Status effects like \Immolated, Class 3\ and \Nerve Damage, Class 1\ do not heal with time like everything else.”

Justin started, but as he saw me push myself upright - as upright as I usually manage, at least - he stepped close and put a tentative hand on my tail. The cloak on my back was just tatters, but it fell away from my skin without hurting me any further. He finally answered, “I will. Thank you for the quick help.”

Havram muttered something about university excesses then said louder, “My attendant will work up the bill. If you can’t pay immediately, a payment plan will be expected.”

Havram walked out, and Justin crowded close. “Are you okay? I- you made some awful noises.”

“I am much better, aside from the nightmares I’ll have when I can sleep.” I hadn’t quite meant for that last to come out.

Justin winced, “Because of the fight I got you into?”

“Because of the healing. If you haven’t experienced it… I suggest you don’t.”

We managed to pay for the bill, barely, using the purses of the mages we slew. Justin looked a little sick at having to let go of so much money all at once. We headed back to my apartment, with sandwiches wrapped up in wax paper. We needed to talk. The false delegation would be officially coming into town tomorrow, and the coronation was to commence the morning after.

Less than two days to save the city, according to Justin’s timeline and I wasn’t going to be able to sleep until we finished or I collapsed. Literally, as it happens. 

Hadassah

Magic presents it challenges in it its natural form in an RPG. Healing magic is so incredibly easy that its hard to imagine a cultural society that resembles ours where healing is a matter of expense, but not time. War would be far cheaper, or ghastly, in order to make it so people couldn't be just sent to the front line, every day. Where any wound that wasn't fatal would be trivial. 

I didn't want to reason my way out of that. While people in this world do heal faster than they do in ours, I wanted there to be consequences for near-death. Healing that is more hostile than the harm incurred seemed like an interesting approach.