A medical emergency

[fadingworld]

A deep navy cloak hides his features and the more ornate tunic the courtesan usually wears to greet his clients. Mal hunches his shoulders and slides through the crowds hoping to avoid notice. He keeps his head down until he reaches the home of the doctor and wraps smartly on the door. "Open up," he calls in a voice that expects to be listened to.

How much time did he have? He could not have a client bleeding out. Not this one. Not one who had come to him for help, to be treated privately.

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[mandragoraspiritus]

The door is opened at the request by an older man and a scent of herbs wafts out into the air. Graying hair, pale skin and dressed in clothed that while being of a good quality and cut were also well worn he made for a somewhat gray-looking figure. Except for a pair of very dark eyes, dark enough to appear outright black. They have a mild expression to them, though, and focused.

"Yes?"

[fadingworld]

Mal pushes the arm of his sleeve back to reveal the finely inked vines stretching up the inside of his arm, declaring his profession and the roses the house - The Rose Thorn.

"I was told you were discreet. If you could grab your kit and follow me, you will be well paid."

[mandragoraspiritus]

The man steps back into his house, his clinic, gesturing for the cloaked man - the courtesan - to follow him in. "What seems to be the problem?" He asks, slinging the strap of a satchel diagonally across his body, wandering around the room to put some few more things into it. "And who needs the help, if I may ask?"

[fadingworld]

Mal keeps his hood drawn up, naming a prominent Duke. "There was an assassination attempt. He came to me." He leans back against the wall.

His laugh is low and musical. "It is not within my usual daily duties but I am not upset by the sight of blood."

[mandragoraspiritus]

"What was the nature of the assassination attempt? Poison?" He needs to know this to know what sort of equipment to bring.

"Why you? Would not such a prominent person have his own physicians at his beck and call?" No matter the circumstance, it is how it is now, and this humble barber-surgeon will come and help. But he would like to know just what those circumstances are.

[fadingworld]

"He thinks it was poison, he said he felt a dart." Mal isn't going to give the Duke's secrets away. Nor his fears. "He was out when it happened and the Rose Thorn was closest. Besides it would arouse more curiosity if his physician was seen coming into his lodgings."

[mandragoraspiritus]

The barber-surgeon hums to himself at that, slipping some more vials of liquid and packets of powders into his satchel, this that could help counter what he suspects most likely that an assassin would use.

"Come along, then," he tells the young man, heading out and then down the street after having locked his door, not bothering to wait for the man to show the way. He already knows the way. As they walk it becomes clear that the scent of herbs hadn't come from the clinic but rather from the surgeon himself.

[fadingworld]

It's a pleasant smell, a contrast to the perfumes that Mal typically wears when he is working. A street away from the Rose Thorn he taps the man's arm and leads the way down an alley. "A back way in," he explains. "Unless you wish to come through the front doors posing as a client."

[mandragoraspiritus]

"I have gone through those door before, as the barber-surgeon that I am. But, I suppose when dealing with the rich and mighty that it isn't an option. Discretion before all else." He heaves a sigh, folding his hands round the strap of his satchel. "Very well, then, lead the way to my patient.

[fadingworld]

"But never to visit me," Mal says lightly, smiling under his hood. "Another time I might be offended."

Keep him alive at all costs.

There will be eyes watching them, Mal knows. Enzo will be waiting for a report. He leads the way up the servants stairs, throwing his hood back when they reach the back entrance to his room. He listens at the door. It was all quiet.

"Step in. and let me know whatI can do." He announces them to the sweating Duke on the bed and goes to take the Duke's hand reassuring him that help had come.

[mandragoraspiritus]

"Ah, this is not a place I go to for enjoyment, I assure you. Only for work when my help is needed."

Once inside the lavish room the courtesan ceases to matter, now that there is a patient to attend. He goes to the side of the bed, leaning over the Duke, hands with fingernails long enough to appear almost clawlike going straight to work. He takes in the pale, clammy skin, feeling the pulse, and when gently lifting an eyelid and leaning in to study the pupil's reactions he also breathes in deeply through his nose, smelling the poison on the man's labored breath as his body metabolizes it.

"Ah, yes..." His tone is grave, but there is also some satisfaction there at being able to identify the issue. "You. Young man." He snaps his fingers at the courtesan. "Bring me a pot of boiling water. Then we will need ice, as much as you can find."

[fadingworld]

Mal hides his amusement at being ordered around with a sweeping bow. In this room he's used to being in sole charge of what is going. "I will be right back."

He rumples his hair and steps into the corridor going to attend to it personally. This would not be his most unusual request. He is soon back, taking it from the servant at the door and imperiously requesting for ice to brought until he says otherwise.

Careful not to spill a drop he brings it to the bed. "How is he?"

[mandragoraspiritus]

"In need of some tea, I think." Truth be told the man is in rather poor shape, but he remains somewhat conscious so that shouldn't be said out loud.

From his satchel he pulls out two packets made of paper, one containing a mix or dried herbs and one smaller with a colorless powder, which he hands over to the younger man. "Put this to steep for five minutes, please. Now, is that a tub over there, behind the partition? Good. Please see to it that it is quickly filled with cold water, quick as you can."

[fadingworld]

Mal moves without complaint, steeping the tea. Staying near the Duke, he occasionally puts his hand on the arm. It's not that he's got any real love for his client but should showing some sort of caring wound be expected.

When the first lot of ice is brought he lifts it with surprising strength and takes it to the bath. Somehow, he makes it look graceful and weightless. Three more successive trips are made, chilling the water.

"Check it," he calls to the doctor. "More ice will follow in 15 minutes."

[mandragoraspiritus]

While the courtesan has tended to the ice bath, the surgeon has been monitoring the duke as well as have made him swallow a series of tincures. This really will be fighting poison with poison. He can already feel the duke's temperature rapidly rise as a result.

"There is no time." He moves to scoop the duke up in his arms, carrying the much studier man as if he weighed nothing. Being set in the ice cold bath causes the duke to rally, fighting in protest. Yet the wiry looking doctor has no problem holding him down, even if water does splash everywhere before he gets the man to settle.

"Bring the tea, please."

[fadingworld]

Mal brings the tea over and settles a hand on the Duke's shoulder. There is a honeyed tone to his voice. "I know this a little more drastic than your usual bath but you had to go and get yourself in trouble. I was," and there is a little catch to his voice, "worried."

The easy flattery has some affect, making it easier for Mal to get him to swallow the tea. He glances up at the Doctor and down at the Duke.

"I promise the next time you are here for a bath it will be much more enjoyable."

[mandragoraspiritus]

The doctor glances over and wonders if there is any real affection behind this gentleness. If not, the courtesan is a skilled actor. But then, that is a part of his profession, is it not?

In any case, this gentle touch and comfort ought to have an easier time keeping the patient calm and in the icy bath than the doctor's own clinical approach and so he given the younger man an approving nod.

"The fever will rage for a short time," he tells him quietly. "We will need to keep him cool while it burns the poison out of his system."

[fadingworld]

"I will sing to him," Mal says softly. "Signal me if you need me to stop. There will be more water to add to the bath should we need it."

Mal settles kneeling at the edge of the bath, his fingers trail the cold water as he picks an old ballad of lovers who defy the gods to be together. There is some quality to his voice that wraps around the Duke. In Mal's mind it is a soothing mist, easing tension from the Duke's mind, making him more relaxed and open to suggestion.

[mandragoraspiritus]

It is good that the duke is kept relaxed so the doctor doesn't call for a pause. After a while he brings the tea over, when it has cooled enough to be swallowed and he deems the duke in a state to be able to get it down. It is a bitter brew but even so the duke does swallow.

He's kept in that icy bath for a long time, even after he's been wracked with chills and hsi lips turn pale blue. But after that time, after the doctor has checked him over and has deemed the worst danger to be over, he reaches in to lift the man out of the water again, holding him up to strip him off his clothes before carrying him back to the bed to bundle him up in soft sheets and warm blankets.

"He must rest now," he then tells the courtesan. "He will sleep near like the dead for near a day and night, and should not be moved during that time. Or longer, if possible."

[fadingworld]

Mal reaches for a cool glass of water himself as he brings the song to an end. The pale blue lips had disturbed him and it is a relief to have the Duke in the bed.

"I will arrange it to be so," he promises, pushing his hair back from his face. "In fact," he touches the back of his hand to his forehead. "I might be coming down with something and will need to be left strictly alone for the next three days."

His eyes dance as he loosens his collar. "I can be quite convincing."

[mandragoraspiritus]

"Good," he states, finding and picking up a towel to pat himself down somewhat. He had gotten himself rather soaked in his handling of the duke. "I shall remain for a time yet, but I would like to leave him in your care, if I may. Though I shall return ever so often."

After having gotten himself as dry as he's going to get, he straightens his clothes a bit and brushes his hair back with his fingers. Then he really can't help but to ask.

"Do you have genuine care for this man? Or is he simply that valuable a client?

[fadingworld]

"Then you can come through the main doors as though I am your patient," Mal says. He draws a chair over to the bed for his guest and settles quite comfortable on a stool.

He cocks his head on one side thoughtfully. "I care for all of my clients in my own way. I know more of their darkest fears and secrets than their own family do."

[mandragoraspiritus]

Now straightened up he goes to sit on the offered chair. Another quick check on the patient shows him dead to the world but now breathing far more easily than before, gone in a deep and healing sleep.

"If you are to be my patient then I shall need to know your name." As mutual introductions are only polite, he extends a hand for a shake. His grasp is cool but firm. "You may call me Regis."

[fadingworld]

"And you may call me Mal," he says with an easy smile. He shakes the other's hand lightly. "Now, what malady shall we give me? It needs to be suitably interesting but not something that will scare clients off from returning to me soon."

[mandragoraspiritus]

"I dont suppose the common cold or a bout of the stomch flu would be nowhere near romantic enough," Regis says with some display of humor. Tales of snot and mucus, or vomit and excrement would not help a courtesan's reputation, he wagers. "If it is something to be cured in no more than a few days, then perhaps some minor injury, some tension to the neck that has caused you insufferable headaches."