Two days later, it was time for Kaelith’s operation. Nikolai was steadily recovering, but it would be a while yet before he could say he was back to full strength.

  Now, he found himself in a white robe, hands disinfected by alchemically enhanced spirits, looking down at an unconscious Kaelith. Lazgrim the old bastard had insisted Nikolai join him for the operation, though Nikolai really hadn’t wanted to.

  Lazgrim being Lazgrim hadn’t taken his opinion into consideration, however. Hence, Nikolai would be one of three helpers for the procedure.

  Lazgrim glanced at him. “Stop looking so green, lad! You want to be a healer? Well, this is what we do! We cannot be squeamish around blood and gore, neither can we flinch away from putting those hurt back together the proper way. Your girlfriend here needs this, so you’d better grow a bloody backbone!”

  Nikolai swallowed, then nodded. “Yes, teacher.”

  How the hell had it come to this? Nikolai was no doctor. He had barely ever even seen blood a few months ago, and now he was part of a damn operation. He was so fucking unqualified for this that it was laughable he was even allowed in the room.

  Lazgrim didn’t seem to care even a little about his misgivings though. He simply nodded and turned back to Kaelith. Then, with practiced steadiness, he used a scalpel-like knife to cut her leg open. Nikolai had watched butchers at work before; their practiced ease of taking dead things apart couldn’t even come close to Lazgrim’s expertise. The dwarf was a master.

  Despite the blood, Nikolai couldn’t help but be fascinated. It was absolutely horrifying to watch. Skin was there for a reason, and what he was seeing wasn’t supposed to be seen. At the same time, though, he absorbed what the old dwarf was doing without flinching away.

  One hand worked the knife; the other held a constant, faint glow as Lazgrim moved muscle and tissue out of his way. He lightly healed any part he damaged as he worked, stopped blood from spilling too freely, and carefully kept her alive despite the drastic procedure, of essentially severing her leg with surgical precision.

  A few minutes later, he inspected the bone. He seemed mostly satisfied, healed some minute fractures, then his magic expanded. Small strings of light extended from his fingers, pulling at nerves, veins, and muscle tissue. It was slow, careful work, but the constant progress was like watching one of those time-skip videos on the internet.

  Nikolai was called over and asked to hold a segment of muscle in place while Lazgrim knit it back together properly. His first gut reaction was to run and hide, but this was Kaelith, he would not allow such weakness. Instead he cheated a bit, and let the relaxing effect of Soothe rush over him—not intensely, just enough to let him focus on his task without shying away.

  No matter how many times Nikolai saw it, the effect of healing magic was utterly amazing to him. Wounds that would be fatal were gone in minutes, shattered bones could be mended, and minds could be soothed. Despite the grimness of the task, being part of something like that was humbling in more ways than he could ever explain.

  Nikolai had fallen into healing by chance. Had he been able to choose beforehand, he would likely not have gone that route. Now, though, he felt somewhat passionate about it. Yes, he could also do horrible damage to his foes, take their very life’s energy like a bloody vampire—but that was balanced by all the potential good he could do.

  Things were rarely black and white in either of the two worlds he had called home. Nikolai couldn’t escape the fact that he was changing. He knew he had become more ruthless in many ways, saw life and people differently than he had only recently. This was his counterweight: healing others, empathy. That was the key to not losing his humanity—or indeed his sanity.

  Lazgrim seemed satisfied after a few more minutes, and he moved on to the next nerve threads that needed connecting.

  That went on for over an hour to Nikolai’s internal clock, it might have been more.

  Eventually however, Lazgrim sighed, and went to wash his hands of the copious amounts of blood covering them. When he returned, they moved on to closing the wound, removing scar tissue, healing the skin where it had once been torn, reconnecting veins and then allowing blood to start pumping through them, and so on.

  Nikolai wasn’t quite sure how long they labored, but by the end he was sweaty and exhausted, and even Lazgrim seemed a bit pale.

  Finally, the skin around the leg closed up, leaving only a thin white scar forming a circle around her limb. It was the only remaining sign that anything had ever been wrong. Nikolai met Lazgrim’s eyes.

  “That was… Just amazing. Thank you.”

  Lazgrim nodded. “Damn right it was, and don’t worry about it, It was only natural.”

  Contrary to recovery on Earth, Kaelith was woken as soon as the room had been cleaned and cleared, with only Lazgrim and Nikolai present.

  She yawned and looked confused for a moment or two before her eyes widened. She met Nikolai’s gaze. “It’s done?”

  Nikolai nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Lazgrim huffed. “And I can darn well tell you that you probably won’t anytime soon either—not if you plan to leave the hospitarium, that is!”

  “Why is that? I mean, I don’t plan to have limbs torn off, but—” Nikolai said.

  Kaelith giggled weakly, she was still really pale. She was healed, but the body remembered. “I only heard stories of stuff like this, Nikolai. It isn’t normal to be able to do this.”

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  Lazgrim turned to Nikolai, his tone shifting into that of a teacher addressing a class. “Lad, is simply having a healing rune enough to be a healer?”

  “Sort of, I guess. But I know what you’re getting at, also, after today I would say no, not at all.” Nikolai replied with a small smile.

  Lazgrim nodded. “Correct—no! Then comes the next question: how many people actually dedicate every skill, every rune, their path, and their lives to healing?”

  Nikolai hesitated, so Lazgrim answered for him. “Almost no one, including myself. That said, I have just a couple of offensive options, a few defensive ones—but everything else is tied to healing, to fulfilling my role in one way or another. I’ve trained for many decades, Nikolai, and this is the result.”

  He gestured to Kaelith’s leg. “If you and I used the same rune at the same rank, you’d think we weren’t, judging by the results, efficiency, and even the visual effect. Training, Nikolai. Practice. Experience! It cannot be overstated: there are no easy paths to great power. Only the weak or the stupid rely fully on their runes. Remember that, if nothing else!”

  “I understand, teacher,” Nikolai said with a smile.

  Lazgrim rolled his eyes. “You understand nothing, lad. But that’s fine—that’s exactly what I was saying, wasn’t it? You’ll learn. But to do that, you’ve got to live, eh?”

  Nikolai bowed in thanks. He had no words just then. Lazgrim had become someone important to him, even though they hadn’t known each other long. The gruff dwarf was a solid pillar—someone he could lean on, someone he was certain wouldn’t tip over or crumble from the added weight.

  Lazgrim gently wiped the remaining blood from Kaelith’s leg, then tossed her a white robe. “I know this isn’t your color, lass, but you should cover yourself.”

  Kaelith glanced down at her partially revealed form beneath the white sheet, blushed faintly, and hurried to dress.

  Kaelith would still need to do some rehabilitation, as one might expect from such an injury.

  Despite that though, she could stand easily enough. Lazgrim was an excellent healer. There was no loss of muscle or function at all.

  “What are your plans now, lad?” Lazgrim asked, pulling Nikolai’s attention back.

  “Not sure. Not exactly. We have some ideas, though,” Nikolai replied evasively.

  “‘We,’ is it?” Lazgrim chuckled. “Well, that’s good at least.”

  He studied Nikolai for a long moment before speaking again. “Lad, I’ve not known you long, but I see the change in you. You’re darker than before—stronger, too. I know well that life in a hospitarium isn’t for you. But no matter what path you walk, don’t lose yourself, eh?”

  With that, Lazgrim walked out of the room, leaving Nikolai staring after him. He felt a sudden pang of guilt, as though he’d somehow disappointed the old dwarf.

  Kaelith, now clothed, walked over to him.

  “He cares, Nikolai. That’s all. He wishes he could keep you here, but he knows it isn’t your path. You don’t need to feel bad for being you, though—I quite like dark Nikolai,” she said with a teasing grin.

  Nikolai scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I don’t know. Is going after that illusionist slaver really the right thing to do?”

  Kaelith shrugged. “I think so. But I’m not exactly a kind person, Nikolai. I’m a necromancer. I’ve done some pretty horrible things over the years. I just tried never to hurt innocents in the process. Maybe what you need is a code, you know, something to keep you on the right path.”

  “A code eh?”

  “Yeah. Something like what you put in our bargain.”

  Nikolai thought back, then nodded slowly. He had promised her as much freedom as possible, while still doing something arguably wrong—at least to his moral sensibilities.

  “That could work… So let’s see. No harming children, for any reason. No harming innocents. Everything else goes? Something like that?”

  Kaelith giggled. “We can work on it, I suppose…”

  That night, after darkness had fallen, the two of them began making plans. First and foremost was the issue of actually finding the illusionist, but Kaelith had already asked around.

  When Nikolai escaped from that brothel, he had brought some people out with him. Most had already fled the city, wanting as much distance as possible from their experiences there. A few remained, however, and one in particular worked at a nearby alehouse. Sevrin had provided that bit of information, he was proving to be really useful for that kind of thing.

  Lazgrim had apparently recommended her to the owner there—he was perhaps not surprisingly quite the regular customer.

  Kaelith took Nikolai there the next day: The Raunchy Peacock.

  The building was fairly nondescript, looking much like the other multistory structures on the block, with large windows, outdoor seating, and a generally pleasant atmosphere.

  It wasn’t a high-society establishment, but neither was it known for drunken brawls or seedy figures.

  As they entered, a bell chimed and a serving maid hurried over. Nikolai smiled at her and, for the first time, used his new skill. Until now, he’d held back, not wanting to affect those around him—but now he wanted to test it.

  To this girl of perhaps sixteen, he would seem more harmless than he otherwise might, more approachable. There was no visible indication that anything had changed, but the girl smiled brightly and bowed slightly.

  “Welcome to The Raunchy Peacock. A table for two?”

  “Yes, please,” Nikolai replied, and for some reason she blushed faintly.

  Confused but choosing to ignore it, he and Kaelith followed her to a corner table. After she took their order and left, Kaelith gave him a measuring look.

  “What are you doing, Nikolai?” she asked suspiciously.

  “What do you mean?” he replied innocently.

  Kaelith narrowed her eyes. “I won’t say you’re not usually fairly attractive, but the air you give off now…”

  Surprised she had noticed, Nikolai explained his new skill. Kaelith rolled her eyes. “You claim not to have been born Fae, but it seems to me you’re becoming more like one every day.”

  “I’m going to lean into it, Kaelith. No point denying my own nature. You disapprove?”

  Kaelith giggled. “Of course not. It’ll be interesting to see what you can do with it.”

  Nikolai tried his hand at a charming smile. “Don’t get too excited, milady. We are in public.”

  Kaelith made a mock gagging expression. “The skill is not that good.”

  Nikolai smiled and scanned the room—then spotted her. He recognized the girl. What was her name again? Igri—that was it.

  She had helped when they escaped that bloody kidnapping. One of the girls from the brothel—or rather, one of those being worked, as he supposed.

  Working implied being paid, and that hadn’t been the case for any of them, male or female.

  It took a moment, but eventually the now much healthier-looking girl scanned the room. Their eyes met, and her mouth opened in surprise. Then she rushed over, and before he could react, she threw her arms around his neck, pressing against him hard.

  “It’s you! It’s really you!”