Stop Thinking!

The woman knew where Serenica lived.

Actually killing the mother, in retaliation or self-defence, was out of the question. That would get Serenica all the way to the gallows.

She waited until the commotion on the street had calmed down.

With her bag and her weapons, she snuck out from the backdoor.

There were few places she could hide in.

Blackbones was tired of her antics. Helen didn't trust her.

She had never felt this alone.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she collapsed on a back alley. Tears burst out. She could do nothing about it.

She had nowhere to go. No one she could rely on.

Still, she couldn't give up now. Serenica got on her feet, still shaking from the exhausting anxiety in the hot evening air.

Through the heavy clouds, rays of sunlight sliced the thick fog that had settled over Neul. It looked like another one of those wet season nights was on its way. Theft, whoremongering and murder blazed the streets as all the tired sailors vented their frustration.

Serenica bought a bottle of wine.

It was horrible, comparable to rotten things instead of horse piss, but she had no experience with the latter. She took long swigs. Her walk became a swagger, but her head was still clear.

Unfortunately, this meant being aware of her misery.

After walking for hours, she found herself at the door of the Wormy. That was what the tavern was called. Letters had fallen off from the sign above the door. No one knew what the sign had originally said, not even the current owner.

Frequented by smugglers and pirates, the place was full. Serenica didn't exactly want company right now. It was just that she needed to blend in.

She bought some rum and buried her head in her hands.

She had been sitting like that for hours, barely even touching her drink, when someone came up to her.

"Go away," she said. She wasn't in the mood for a talk.

"You don't want a patient?"

The man opened with a rhetorical question. Nice. Apparently he knew her. Apparently he needed some help.

Sure enough, this man, wearing heavy golden earrings and a short, tasteless jacket was limping. Of course he was just standing there. However, Serenica had seen plenty of injuries. She knew that once this guy would walk away, his leg would give up on him and he would have to support himself against the walls.

"Hold on," she said. "You are not going anywhere like that."

With those words, her better side kicked back in after a day of rampant violence.

She was on good terms with someone who lived nearby. That way, she managed to get a clean and quiet space to check up the leg of the sailor.

Or, more likely, the leg of the pirate.

No one who lived on the regular salary could afford that much wearable currency.

Serenica had treated her fair share of pirates. To be honest, she had to say that they were her favorite customers. Due to the heavy emphasis they placed on practical life, they made her job as easy as possible.

They wanted results whereas landlubbers had a nasty habit of treating her as a validation provider instead of her obvious role.

A healthcare provider. Someone who was proud to see people get back up after months of bedrest. People like the mother of the dead sons were much more likely to pride themselves on their unnecessary suffering.

Serenica perched over the exposed wound.

Now, the blood was not the issue, neither was the infection, there was no bone exposed, which was strange, considering that the man had nothing extra on his body. Serenica was pretty sure that a single poke with a needle long enough could have pierced his heart all the way through.

No, the wound was merely the marker for another injury. A fracture of some sort that went way deeper than the torn muscle was the issue. That was what Serenica was up against.

"Wood splinter or..?" She raised her eyebrows.

The pirate shook his head. "A fucking cannon ball."

He closed his eyes as Serenica injected a mixture of something topical and some shepherd extract to keep him from squirming in pain and discomfort.

"A fucking cannon ball," Serenica said. She didn't believe him at first.

Then she noticed the blackened burn marks.

"How the fuck do you still have this leg?" she asked.

"It was a brush. A close one. But a brush."

"Try not to get brushed again. Next time you won't be as lucky. I don't understand how this is possible, but the trajectories of flying metal balls are not exactly my expertise. I'll take your word on it."

Normally, she would have absolutely recommended bedrest, but this pirate wanted to get back on his feet as quickly as possible. Of course he did. He wanted to start earning again.

The pirating life was the opposite of healthcare.

Serenica's bread was secured, yet narrow.

At least in comparison to pirating it was highly secure – the life on the high seas brought lots of big catches, but the good stuff was sporadic and along came huge risks, like dying. People rarely liked dying. Many, however, liked to gamble, and what better way to do that than to constantly put one's life on the line?

Serenica didn't like dying but she also didn't like starvation. It wasn't always easy to stay on land.

"You think a pirate doctor earns well?" she asked while searching for her throbstones.

However horrible the name, those stones were quite invaluable for a healer. The crystals had the power to transfer serious fractures into their own structure, essentially absorbing them so that bones could heal at least a hundred times quicker.

"I don't think, I know," the man said. "Not much of a thinker."

"You don't look like a thinker," Serenica said and thought about it for a moment. "I don't care for thinkers."

"You want a job? You don't look like you have a job."

Serenica blinked.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked.

"I heard the Ink Witch is looking for recruits," the pirate replied.

Serenica dropped a handful of throbstones out of sheer surprise and terror.