(Untitled)

[lectorisalutem]

He hopped out of the carriage, wishing he'd already made vanjalist as he passed through its exhaust fumes. The masks were a status symbol, Gulliver understood, but how many vanjalists treated the sick at times like these? How many actually put the masks to use? Shielding his nose and mouth with the sleeve of his robes, he made for Guille and

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[sunsinge]

They were fetching a healer, they'd told him. He could barely speak, barely hold onto what they said long enough to understand it. They gave him wine the first day, water the second. By now he could barely swallow his own spit without retching it back up. His friends came and went, hovered around him and spoke in low tones. Amadius wondered if he was dying. He wondered if he cared

[lectorisalutem]

It was hard to make out what Amadius was saying. Gulliver only caught 'liar', which caused him to avert his eyes. One of the roommates, the unfamiliar man, seemed to catch all of it. He elbowed Guille hard while glaring daggers at the adept

[sunsinge]

Gulliver's hand was shockingly warm against his throat, burning, and Amadius made a soft noise of pain and tilted his head back, teeth grit. The Adept meant to strangle him-- no. The fumes from whatever Gulliver was working into his skin reached him. He was massaging his throat, not strangling him. It hurt, but there was a growing warmth spreading beneath it, something soothing, something liquid

[lectorisalutem]

No? The first response made Gulliver's breath catch in his throat. He reminded himself that it was only because of the blow his reputation would take if he lost a patient. Going to the window, pinching the bridge of his nose so hard his sinuses might cave in, the adept wondered if he'd begrudged Amadius too much by offering hm this choice.

But, with the second response he let his hand fall away. A moment later he was crouched beside the bed, readying his scalpel. 'I won't die for you' failed to resonate on any level with Gulliver, but the 'yes' left him honestly relieved and not simply because of his career.

"I never intended you to," he said, hoping that it would come out as scathing. However it came out, Amadius was too feverish to recognize tones. Or at least that was what the adept told himself. "Just relax. Everything will be well soon."

[sunsinge]

His arguments with Guille had gone poorly. The first had ended with the other man angrily insisting that Amadius was still ill and would see sense soon. The second he accused him of trying to force his debts onto his friends. After the third, they'd stopped speaking. Amadius was furious. He'd never agreed to paying for Gulliver's services - accepted his help, yes, and while he didn't regret that, he hadn't expected his friend to let the fee fall on him while he lay dying

[lectorisalutem]

He was. He was resolved to. Simply because the aftermath of delivering the bill would be uncomfortable was no reason to wipe away Amadius' debt. If anything, he might teach him a lesson by holding him accountable...

The adept hurried through the streets, dashing to the side on occasion to miss a stranger or a particularly fowl pile of refuse. His spindly legs and giant boots were the only thing that could be seen beneath his huge robe. November was being particularly cruel to the city.

Gulliver paused at the door to Amadius' home. Perhaps he should just leave the bill in the mail slot... But no. It would be far too easy for the man to feign ignorance at having received it. He took a deep breath, then erupted into a coughing fit when the cold air was too much for him. Gulliver knocked and cleared his throat. His breath turned to steam and fogged up his glasses. As he was about to sigh, thinking how fixing one aspect sent another out of balance, he held his breath. Sighing would only make it worse.

[sunsinge]

He heard the knock and ignored it. One of the others would get it. Sure enough, he heard boots thundering down the stairs - Thomas, by the weight of them. Amadius placed another card on the table and frowned thoughtfully at the rest, tongue swiping a drop of rum from the corner of his mouth.

"Diya!" he heard Thomas bellow from downstairs, and the thief winced and turned his head to glare at the door. Stumbling, he rose to his feet and yanked it open.

"I told you not to call me that!"

"Aye," Thomas called back with a grin, "And that's why we do. Doctor's here for you." He tilted his head towards the door. Amadius' eyes narrowed, and he leaned further over the railing until he could make out the Adept's straw hair and dusty robes. So he'd come after all?

"Come up," he snapped, then turned and went back into his room without waiting. This would either be entertaining or infuriating, depending on how insistent the Adept had worked himself into being.

[lectorisalutem]

Gulliver stood by, trying to hold himself with the dignity that was expected of his profession. The way Thomas kept smirking, though, caused his shoulders to sink. He'd saved this boy's life and still he was an easy target for teasing? Perhaps that said more about the doctor than his patient...

He climbed the stairs and entered Amadius' room without a knock or greeting. From the spread on the table, he gathered that Amadius was feeling much better; well enough to go back to his regiment of drink and cards. Holding out the bill, pretending to find the view from the window very interesting, he cleared his throat again.

"Your bill, as promised."