Ruso was carrying the jug out the door when there was a crash and a skitter of paws across floorboards. He turned. Several puppies were running for cover. One was perched on a side table, peering over the edge at fragments of a cup lying in a spreading pool of beer.
Ruso shut the door quietly, limped down the street to the water fountain, and stuck his head under it.
23
Tilla could smell fresh bread. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and peered out between the window bars. Across the street, a pigeon was perched on the roof of the bakery. Beneath it, someone swung back the first panel of the door shutters. A plump woman appeared in the gap, bending to apply her bottom to the rest of the shuttering. The panels shifted on their hinges and the pigeon swooped away as the whole apparatus began to screech back along its groove.
Tilla watched the pigeon until the frame of the window blocked her view. Then she returned to her bed, slid her hand underneath, and pulled out the iron key the healer had given her the night before. She had felt sorry for the healer, who had done nothing to deserve being smacked on the head and who should have had her beaten-since it seemed she did, after all, still belong to him. Evidently she was not yet the property of the ill-mannered bullies who had sauntered in yesterday with the clear intention of sizing her up for their own use.
The question was, what should she do now? She had the key. If she could find clothes, if she ate and built up her strength, if she could judge the right moment-she could escape. Or, she could choose not to eat, to cheat the work of the healer, and step forward toward her death. What honor, though, would she have in the next world if she had been offered a chance of freedom in this one and refused to take the risk?
A clunk from the loose board in the corridor warned her that someone was outside. Moments later there was a soft knock at the door. Tilla pressed her face against the door frame and squinted through the crack. She could just about make out a shape that was not tall enough to be either of the men.
"Daphne?"
The form moved and the hand knocked again.
Tilla slid the key into the lock, positioned one foot an inch away to hold the door while she assured herself it was only the girl, and then let her in.
"Daphne," she said, locking the door again. "Thank you."
The girl put the tray down on the bench.
"Did you sleep well?"
Daphne shrugged, and indicated her belly in a way that suggested her expectations of sleep were limited.
"When is your baby due?"
A second shrug indicated that this was not a subject of great interest.
"My master has given me the key," explained Tilla, "so I can decide who comes in. I do not want those men in here. If you come alone, knock like this." She demonstrated three short taps on the windowsill.
"Understand?"
Daphne reached out a hand and gave three short taps on the door.
"Only if you are alone, yes?"
Daphne nodded and pointed to herself. For a moment Tilla thought she was about to smile, but a yell of, "Daphne!" from downstairs reminded her of her duties. Tilla let her out, locked the door, and retreated to see what they had given her for breakfast.
24
The outside door to the hospital kitchen was propped open to let out the heat as usual. Ruso nodded a greeting to the cooks as he passed, pausing long enough to light a taper on the grilling coals but not long enough to answer any questions, either about why he was limping horribly or about why he didn't use the front door like everyone else.
He waited until the corridor was empty before making his way down to the courtyard door. Clutching his case in one hand and the taper in the other, he managed to hobble across the courtyard garden and enter by the consulting rooms without being accosted by either patients or staff.
Ruso leaned back on the closed door of the consulting room and contemplated his toe. Such a small part of the body. Such disproportionate agony.
He lit a stub of candle. Then he unlatched his case and retrieved the thinnest of the bronze probes which had, as usual, fallen out of its place.
He propped the thicker end of the probe on the top of an inkwell and moved the candle so the tip of the probe was being lapped by the flame.
While he waited for the instrument to heat, he unlaced his sandal, glanced around the room, and then moved a chair away from the wall under the window. This was a quick and straightforward procedure.
There was no need for painkillers or restraints. There was also no need for furniture for him to fall off if things didn't turn out to be quite as straightforward and quick as when he did this to other people.
Shielding his fingers from the heat with a cloth, Ruso picked up the cooler end of the probe. He sat himself on the floor below the window and braced his back against the wall. He took a deep breath. Then he placed the tip of the probe against his toenail.
The door burst open. His hand jolted. The probe slipped out of his grasp and rolled across the floor.
"Ruso!" exclaimed Valens. "They told me you were in here. What are you doing down there?"
He explained.
Valens examined the toe. His face brightened in a manner that Ruso found faintly unsettling. "Shall I do it?"
"No thank you."
"Well, can I bring a couple of chaps in to watch?"
It was an unwelcome, but not an unreasonable, request. "If you must," said Ruso. He got to his feet with some difficulty and repositioned the probe over the flame.
Moments later Valens returned with the couple of chaps. Either he had lost the ability to count, or each of the chaps had invited a couple more chaps of his own.
"See how the blood's built up under the nail," explained Valens as his audience shuffled about to get a better view of Ruso's blackened toenail. "How does it feel?"
"Painful," grunted Ruso. He could feel himself starting to sweat.
"It's the pressure that's causing the pain," explained Valens. "You, pass that probe over, will you?"
There was movement in the corner. A voice said, "Shall I put the candle out, sir?"
"Not yet," ordered Valens cheerfully. "He might want to have several stabs at it."
Ruso, who hoped fervently that he would not need more than one stab at it, told himself that this was only a very small amount of additional pain. It would, as he assured his patients, bring instant relief. Suddenly, however, this logic did not seem to offer a great deal of comfort. But he could not change his mind now. Nor could he postpone the moment any longer. The probe was being held out for him to take between forefinger and thumb.
He adjusted his grip, positioned the tip of the probe over the dark blister that had formed under his toenail during the night, and pressed.
He gasped as an excruciating wave of pain shot up his foot. Sweating, he forced himself to hold the probe steady and keep pressing as he smelled the nail burning. He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and pushed harder.
Suddenly the resistance to the probe gave way. He withdrew it and gave an involuntary sigh of relief as the blood welled out of the burned hole and the pain began to subside.
He looked up, surveyed the silent faces, and grinned. "Thank you, gentlemen. Any questions?"
After the students had been shooed out, Valens said, "Before you distracted me, I came to tell you I've been invited out to dinner tonight."