Bird of a Nest (bow 3)

Chapter 23

Pol'ar appeared by the speechless medic and stepped up the task, closing the door before the patients could see. Eyeri put his ruined top on the side calmly, panic still on the edges of his mind as he was now trapped in a room with two k'nairi he barely knew, with his scars on show. He reached out to take the fresh one but the other medic seemed to in shock to pass him the shirt. Eyeri exhaled. He'd forgotten how badly some people reacted to them.

"You really are a civilian medic, aren't you?" Eyeri said darkly. War medics didn't react like this. They didn't have the luxury of freezing at a couple of scars. Even ones like Eyeri's.

The man started to splutter something in k'nairi and Eyeri resisted the urge to laugh at him. Eyeri moved forward to snatch the top but, Pol'ar gently caught his wrist and twisted him around. Eyeri put it with the action through gritted teeth, knowing what the elder was doing. Pol'ar was looking for the slave mark. The thing that would have made him a slave officially. His chest tightened and for one moment, the burning smell in his nose was back and the harsh rub of the sand against his skin. It faded and Eyeri was staying perfectly still as Pol'ar studied his scars.

"I am not slave-marked. May I please put the shirt on?" Eyeri growled lowly, trying to be respectful but desperately wanting out of that room. He could feel his throat tightening, the muscles rigid. It was rather small with three people inside, two with wings. 

"Yes, of course," Pol'ar nodded, the other medic passed it over. Eyeri pulled it on, trying not to look too rushed as he did so. He was aware of the look on Pol'ar's face. It was one of someone joining the dots of information together. Eyeri clicked his neck and rolled his shoulders trying to get the muscles to stop being so tense, rubbing his left shoulder. A sinking feeling in his stomach that sparked the simmering anger in his chest into ablaze.

"Use this against me and I will do everything in my power to make your life hell," Eyeri threatened, glaring at the two older men. He already had a few ideas.

"It's going to be a factor, Eyeri," Pol'ar said softly, but his eyes were guarded. There was a touch of bewilderment in his stance. The other medic too was looking at Eyeri like he had suddenly grown a second head. This was the first time they had ever seen Eyeri like this. It was a big change to his meek, helpful demeanour. "It's why Ryraso said to teach you, is it not?"

"Not at all. The reason the circumstances were the way they were, but not the reason why," Eyeri challenged. "I asked him. He did not offer. He taught me because I asked to be taught so I could do something to help the people looking after me. He taught me medic skills, not healing. That started because he realised I had been using healing magic instinctively. It has nothing to do with my past other than the reason I was on the ship," Eyeri defended, the anger in his voice loud and clear. The idea that Ryraso would take him on to heal how to heal just because he was a slave was beyond insulting. He'd had to fight Ryraso on the very matter. Ryraso hadn't wanted to. Eyeri had refused to let that stop him then and he refused to do so now. "This was a path I choose to follow," he said passionately.

Something flared in Pol'ar eyes. "And yet you doubted," Pol'ar said softly.

Eyeri just glared at him, his hands curled. There was nothing he could say to that without sounding like a child or bitter. "We have patients still, unless I'm mistaken?" Eyeri said coldly, his tone demanding.