6 Assistant Vardi

The next day, Vardimann woke up as early as usual. Whitlow wasn't awake yet, so Vardimann tried to stay quiet. He carefully dismantled his shelter and went to bring the fire back to life.

When Whitlow finally woke up, his new assistant was lounging on the grass and playing some kind of tossing game. "You're awake already?"

"The sun is above the horizon. I know that because I climbed up a tree and had a look." Vardimann caught a wooden knucklebone. "You were up earlier than this when we met."

"The market woke me." Whitlow scratched his head and yawned.

"Shall I wake you up from now on?"

The doctor shuddered. "God, no. Not unless you have to. Come here, I'll get you some food."

Vardimann put away his knucklebones. "Don't bother, I've already eaten."

"Huh. Okay." Whitlow got some for himself. "How much food do you have on you?"

"Two smoked fish. We can have them for dinner tonight."

"Oh, thanks."

An awkward silence descended. Vardimann fed the ponies while Whitlow ate his breakfast. It was with some relief that when they finished, they got into the wagon.

After another hour of silence, Whitlow couldn't bear it anymore. "Why is it, we had a great chat when we first met, but now we're silent?"

Vardimann scratched his chin. "I think it's because we didn't know each other back then, so we had stuff to talk about. Now...I really can't think of anything to talk about."

"I see."

The Quiet came back.

Another half-hour passed.

"Oh! I have a topic."

Vardimann sat up excitedly. "What is it?"

"You're my assistant now. You should learn how to care for and prepare the herbal plants I have here."

"That's true."

Whitlow tied the reins to his seat. "Don't worry about the horses, they'll just follow the path. Get in the back and I'll start the lesson."

He'd never been so enthusiastic about teaching. Boredom can be a fantastic motivator.

Kirkwood was a lumbermill town, stationed at the edge of a forest. Pines grew unnaturally tall and straight, gently cradling hundreds of log cabins. They had arrived early enough to set up and start treating patients. Whitlow found Vardimann to be quite useful, as he didn't mind the sight of blood or infection.

Whitlow leaned on a lumberjack's leg, watching his assistant sew up a large gash from an axe. He noticed that the fingers were large and calloused from farm work, but were still nimble enough to create neat stitches. "You're pretty good at this."

Vardimann nodded. "This thread is thinner than what I'm used to, so it's easier." He glanced at the lumberjack, who was facing the sky and sweating. "You know, it would hurt less if you watched."

"Fuck no." The man gasped in disbelief.

He shrugged. "Your call." He tied the last knot and cut the string. "But you're going to have to look anyway. I'm done."

"Already?" The lumberjack involuntarily looked down. His left pant leg was rolled up to the knee, exposing hairy skin and a large red line with neatly criss-crossing stitches. The white thread was dyed pink by the blood. It really didn't look that bad.

Vardimann dropped the used needle in hot water and put away the thread, while Doctor Whitlow talked with the patient. After the man walked away, he commented "Lumberjacks seem to get wounded quite often."

"They have a hazardous profession." Whitlow beckoned the next patient forward. "This area really needs a permanent doctor."

"Or someone who knows how to sew." The majority of the wounds only required stitches, or had infections that could have been prevented by cleaning and stitches. "Don't the women know how to sew clothes? It should be easy for them to learn."

"There are some who are willing, particularly midwives." Whitlow sighed ruefully. "But the men are under the assumption that they are frail beings who can't handle the sight of blood."

"They've clearly never been around for childbirth."

The doctor shooed away a girl who wanted a cure for pimples. "Have you seen one before?"

"Once." Vardimann shuddered exaggeratedly. "Now whenever I hear a female saying, "The baby's coming!" I turn around and walk in the other direction."

The matron in front of them laughed. "Wise choice! You'd clearly make a hassle-free husband. Are you interested in my daughter?"

Vardimann shook his head. "Sorry."

"Oh, do you already have a wife?"

Whitlow saw Vardimann hesitate, so he butted in. "Old crone, are you here for herbs or gossip?"

She made a rude gesture, but with a smile. "Both, of course." She handed over a covered basket. "That should be enough, right?"

He looked under the cover. "Yes, that's plenty. Thank you."

"No problem, it's our way of paying you." The woman waved and left.

Vardimann started. "She actually left." He looked at Whitlow. "I thought she would talk for another couple of hours, at the very least."

He barked a laugh. "For all that she's crude at times, she knows I need to rest after a long day. It's nearly dark and I'm starving. Good thing you were here to help, or some of those patients would have to wait until tomorrow."

Vardimann fished the used needles out of the pot and tipped out the water. "In that case let me buy you dinner to celebrate an "early" day."

"Okay, thanks. Hang on, you have money? Where did you get it from?"

"Drinking competitions."

Whitlow remembered Marlo's headache. "If you drank that much, why weren't you hung over when we first met?"

"For some reason, people like slapping me on the back when they get drunk. They keep making me spill my beer, but they're too drunk to notice."

"So you do cheat."

"No I don't!" Vardimann adopted a guilty pose. "It's not my fault! They won't let me drink!"

The doctor laughed. "Of course, of course."

The two ate deliciously marinated venison for dinner. Vardimann attempted to prove his innocence by chugging down a dozen beers but halfway through, a drunken stranger slapped him on the back. Looking ruefully at the laughing doctor, he said "Well, now you know why I wear a leather vest." It was fully dark by the time they retired for the night.