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a punt, and go scandalize the male dons! What do you think?"
"I'll look forward to that," Maya said, meaning every word, and from
there the discussion diverted to Amelia's fellow medical students at
the London School of Medicine for Women, then to the teachers. Amelia
had a knack for mimicry that was the equal to a monkey or a parrot,
and she had Maya in stitches before too long.
When she left, Maya was sorry to see her go, but Amelia needed to get
back to her lodgings before dark, and Maya kept early evening office
hours, since most of the women of her practice were never awake
before noon.
Tonight she saw three women. One was a music-hall dancer, suffering
from the usual foot and knee complaints, and terrified that she would
lose her job if she couldn't perform. She had come straight from the
theater, hoping against hope to have a cure before the curtain came
up. Her friends had clubbed their pennies together for a cab because
she couldn't walk the distance. She looked completely out of place in
her short, frilled, scarlet dancing dress with a froth of cheap
petticoats, bodice covered in cheap spangles and tinsel, her hair
done up on her head and crowned with three faded ostrich plumes that
had seen better days.
"It's that Frenchy can-can, Miss Doctor," the girl said, her face
pasty beneath the makeup she wore, as Maya gently manipulated the
swollen knee. Beneath the makeup she was also dowdy, to put it
bluntly. Ordinary face, ordinary talent, but extraordinary legs. Her
legs were what she'd been hired for; if they failed her-Maya didn't
have to guess the rest. "It's thrown me knee out, it has, and me
ankles hurt so-"
"I quite understand, dear," Maya soothed.. "Now, you're making your
muscles all tense, and that's making it hard for me to help. Can you
sit back and relax for me?" She looked up at the pale round of a face
with two red patches on the cheeks, and the eyes hidden in smudges of
charcoal. "I think I can fix this for you, if you'll just relax."
"No knives, no operatin' then? You can fix it now?" There was hope
there. "I saw a doctor at a clinic when it started gettin' sore, an'
he said there oughta be an operation, so I left an' tried t' work it
off."
The other doctor was probably looking for a poor little fool to
experiment on, Maya thought bitterly. There were surgeons and doctors
of that sort, perfectly willing to work at charity clinics just so
they could find people who wouldn't complain if they were used to try
out some new apparatus or theory.
"No, dear. Your knee just got a bit out of joint- not quite
dislocated, but enough so you'd be in pain," Maya replied. A lie, of
course; the ligaments were torn, but she could fix that. "Then your
poor ankles weren't quite up to taking on the extra load, you see.
The more it hurt, the more you threw yourself off balance, and that
just made things worse. Like trying to put out a fire by throwing
paraffin oil on it."
Satisfied with the explanation, the girl leaned back in the
comfortable easy chair Maya had placed in the examination room, and
Maya called on her magic.
This she could do, had been able to do from the time she could
toddle, with no need of tutelage from Surya. Healing came as
naturally to Maya as breathing. With her hands making slow, soothing
massaging motions on the girl's knee, she reached down, down, deep
into the native, living earth and rock beneath the pavements of the
city, deep into the heart of her own little jungle, and up into the
life force of the city itself. Where there was life, there was power,
and that power could be channeled into healing. It poured generously
into her, glowing emerald, sparkling topaz, golden brown and warm,
bringing with it the taste of cinnamon and honey in the back of her
mouth.
She gathered all of it into herself, the golds, yellows, and velvety
browns of the earth-energy, the peridot and leaf-green and turquoise
life-energy; she brought it in through her navel and transmuted it
into the ever-verdant emerald green of healing, sending it out in a
steady stream through her hands.
"Cor-that feels good, that does," the girl murmured, in a note of
surprise. "Feels warm!"
"That's because I'm getting the blood to flow properly around your
knee," Maya told her. "This is quite a new treatment-German, you
know."
"Oh, German," the girl repeated, as if that explained everything.
"Them Germans, they got all the tricks, don't they, then?"
Maya laughed, a low and rich chuckle. "So they think." She continued
to pour healing into the knee, mending the tears invisibly, without
scarring, and leaving enough residual energy that the ligaments could
continue to strengthen themselves. The girl was going to need strong
knees if she was going to dance the can-can. She moved down to the
ankle, which fortunately suffered only from strain; she pulled out
inflammation and pain, leaving ease in her wake. Simple magic, simply
done, but satisfying. When she stood up, the girl got up carefully
out of the chair, and her eyes widened as she tested her knee and
found it strong and supple again, then rose on her toes and did an
experimental kick over Maya's head. Maya had been expecting this, and
didn't duck.
"Blimey! It's better!" she blurted, and flushed with pleasure.
"And mind you don't skimp on your exercises from now on, nor on your
warm-ups," Maya replied, as the girl fumbled in her worn velvet [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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a punt, and go scandalize the male dons! What do you think?"
"I'll look forward to that," Maya said, meaning every word, and from
there the discussion diverted to Amelia's fellow medical students at
the London School of Medicine for Women, then to the teachers. Amelia
had a knack for mimicry that was the equal to a monkey or a parrot,
and she had Maya in stitches before too long.
When she left, Maya was sorry to see her go, but Amelia needed to get
back to her lodgings before dark, and Maya kept early evening office
hours, since most of the women of her practice were never awake
before noon.
Tonight she saw three women. One was a music-hall dancer, suffering
from the usual foot and knee complaints, and terrified that she would
lose her job if she couldn't perform. She had come straight from the
theater, hoping against hope to have a cure before the curtain came
up. Her friends had clubbed their pennies together for a cab because
she couldn't walk the distance. She looked completely out of place in
her short, frilled, scarlet dancing dress with a froth of cheap
petticoats, bodice covered in cheap spangles and tinsel, her hair
done up on her head and crowned with three faded ostrich plumes that
had seen better days.
"It's that Frenchy can-can, Miss Doctor," the girl said, her face
pasty beneath the makeup she wore, as Maya gently manipulated the
swollen knee. Beneath the makeup she was also dowdy, to put it
bluntly. Ordinary face, ordinary talent, but extraordinary legs. Her
legs were what she'd been hired for; if they failed her-Maya didn't
have to guess the rest. "It's thrown me knee out, it has, and me
ankles hurt so-"
"I quite understand, dear," Maya soothed.. "Now, you're making your
muscles all tense, and that's making it hard for me to help. Can you
sit back and relax for me?" She looked up at the pale round of a face
with two red patches on the cheeks, and the eyes hidden in smudges of
charcoal. "I think I can fix this for you, if you'll just relax."
"No knives, no operatin' then? You can fix it now?" There was hope
there. "I saw a doctor at a clinic when it started gettin' sore, an'
he said there oughta be an operation, so I left an' tried t' work it
off."
The other doctor was probably looking for a poor little fool to
experiment on, Maya thought bitterly. There were surgeons and doctors
of that sort, perfectly willing to work at charity clinics just so
they could find people who wouldn't complain if they were used to try
out some new apparatus or theory.
"No, dear. Your knee just got a bit out of joint- not quite
dislocated, but enough so you'd be in pain," Maya replied. A lie, of
course; the ligaments were torn, but she could fix that. "Then your
poor ankles weren't quite up to taking on the extra load, you see.
The more it hurt, the more you threw yourself off balance, and that
just made things worse. Like trying to put out a fire by throwing
paraffin oil on it."
Satisfied with the explanation, the girl leaned back in the
comfortable easy chair Maya had placed in the examination room, and
Maya called on her magic.
This she could do, had been able to do from the time she could
toddle, with no need of tutelage from Surya. Healing came as
naturally to Maya as breathing. With her hands making slow, soothing
massaging motions on the girl's knee, she reached down, down, deep
into the native, living earth and rock beneath the pavements of the
city, deep into the heart of her own little jungle, and up into the
life force of the city itself. Where there was life, there was power,
and that power could be channeled into healing. It poured generously
into her, glowing emerald, sparkling topaz, golden brown and warm,
bringing with it the taste of cinnamon and honey in the back of her
mouth.
She gathered all of it into herself, the golds, yellows, and velvety
browns of the earth-energy, the peridot and leaf-green and turquoise
life-energy; she brought it in through her navel and transmuted it
into the ever-verdant emerald green of healing, sending it out in a
steady stream through her hands.
"Cor-that feels good, that does," the girl murmured, in a note of
surprise. "Feels warm!"
"That's because I'm getting the blood to flow properly around your
knee," Maya told her. "This is quite a new treatment-German, you
know."
"Oh, German," the girl repeated, as if that explained everything.
"Them Germans, they got all the tricks, don't they, then?"
Maya laughed, a low and rich chuckle. "So they think." She continued
to pour healing into the knee, mending the tears invisibly, without
scarring, and leaving enough residual energy that the ligaments could
continue to strengthen themselves. The girl was going to need strong
knees if she was going to dance the can-can. She moved down to the
ankle, which fortunately suffered only from strain; she pulled out
inflammation and pain, leaving ease in her wake. Simple magic, simply
done, but satisfying. When she stood up, the girl got up carefully
out of the chair, and her eyes widened as she tested her knee and
found it strong and supple again, then rose on her toes and did an
experimental kick over Maya's head. Maya had been expecting this, and
didn't duck.
"Blimey! It's better!" she blurted, and flushed with pleasure.
"And mind you don't skimp on your exercises from now on, nor on your
warm-ups," Maya replied, as the girl fumbled in her worn velvet [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]