The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 16

Harold the Healer, Chapter 16: Harold's Birthday, Part One

"Happy Birthday, Papa!" It was far too early in the morning for anyone to be this bouncy, but somehow Harold's eleven-year-old daughter Marcie managed it. Every day. Harold Moser, Doctor of Magical Medicine and Veterinary Medicine, recipient of the Order of The Kingdom, the Golden Star of Carcosa, and the Silver Star for Valour, grunted and pulled the covers over his head. Stormy, the kitten he'd rescued from the roadside rest stop five weeks ago, was displaced and decided to join his three-legged adopted sister Daisy, whom Leila had acquired the same day from a pet shop because nobody wanted her, in attacking his feet.

"Lies!" he announced with bedding-muffled denial. "My birthday is January 5th!"

"That's my birthday, Harold," said Leila Parsons, his beloved wife and mother of Marcie. She was standing on the floor next to her side of the bed dressed in a pink nightie with her half copper, half silver hair that fell below her shoulders in disarray from having just gotten up a few minutes ago.

"See, I remember your birthday, sweetheart!"

"You're supposed to remember it on the day, not four months before it!"

"September, January, whatever. I'm rejecting this birthday and will never get older!"

"Get up, you. Birthday or not, you still have a job to go to, a daughter to escort to school, and a half-dozen students to greet when they finally show up." She yanked the covers down and Marcie giggled at his exaggerated frown and pout; Leila rolled her eyes and snorted. "You silly man! Breakfast will be waiting when you return from the privy run."

"Fine, I suppose that I do need to attend to my bodily functions," he grumbled. His pair of forest green boxer shorts was revealed when he sat up and swiveled his feet over the edge of the right side of the bed. A pair of pink bunny slippers was there instead of his usual blue ones. "Whoever did this should not be proud of herself." His martyred expression got smiles on both of their faces, smiles that he always wanted to see. "I think it's cool enough for me to need my bathrobe. I hope that it hasn't been swapped too." This hope was dashed when he opened the closet door and saw the matching pink bathrobe with fluffy white fake fur trim. "On second thought, I will be manly and go out in my shorts."

"Nope!" said Marcie, grabbing the robe from its hangar and handing it to her Mama, who was blocking the doorway. She put the garment on her grumbling husband and gave him a kiss that would have woken the dead to soften the blow to his manliness. Marcie basked in the glow of their love as they hustled him to the kitchen door. "You look pretty in pink, Papa!" He stuck out his tongue at both of them as he stepped outside and made haste for the privy. It was a lovely morning, crisp and fresh but not too chilly, something that he couldn't appreciate until after his bladder had been emptied.

He hadn't walked three steps out the privy door before he heard a wolf whistle from next door. It was their neighbours to the north, Myra and Ben Chandler, who were standing on something so that they could look over the six-and-a half-foot wood fence. They'd increased its height during the summer because they'd started hosting sex parties. Their parties were popular because a good portion of their yard was within the outer range of Harold and Leila's orgasm waves, which was still enough to get them going. The two Mages were also very reliable sources of orgasm waves.

"Looking good, Healer Harold!" said Ben with a grin. "Happy birthday!" Harold rolled his eyes and, sensing that he was being watched from the kitchen window, decided on a little revenge.

"I am not Harold, I am Leila!" he replied in a patently fake falsetto, putting his hands on his hips and strutting around. "I am outside testing my new fluffy bathrobe and bunny slippers to see how warm they will keep me." They were snickering at his performance. "I have no chest right now because I haven't put on my inflatable bra yet." The kitchen door opened suddenly and Leila stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.

"Get in here, you!" The Chandlers were laughing too hard to remain on whatever it was they were standing on and their heads disappeared abruptly.

"I think that I will go downtown and parade around in my new bunny slippers and bathrobe," said Harold, still in the falsetto, taking mincing steps toward the side gate that led to the small gravel driveway and Willow Street. "People need to see how pretty I am!" Leila could move very quickly when she wanted to and caught him easily.

"Hmm, are we a little turned on by my costume?" he wheezed in her ear from the bone-creaking embrace. She unsubtly ground her crotch against his leg and he could feel the heat coming from her, as well as her hard nipples pressing into his chest.

"More than I should be," she muttered. "Get in the house and have your breakfast."

"Yes, dear," he replied meekly as he was hustled toward the door. "Hang on a second," he said, a wicked glint in his eyes, which were an odd shade of blue with hints of green that made people think of the ocean on a sunny day. He propelled her toward the corner of the house away from the window where Marcie's prying eyes could see. "I want to give the neighbours a little present from the birthday boy," he said for the Chandlers' benefit. He began the all-too-familiar sequence of moves on her almost D-sized breasts, without going under her nightie in case someone was watching, that would provoke an orgasm.

"You nasty man," she moaned. Seeing him in the bathrobe had gotten her hot, and she didn't know why, and his expert squeezes and strokes had her stampeding toward an orgasm in less than a minute. She had to bite her arm to muffle her scream when she came and the lower part of the front of her nightie suddenly became wet. "Damn you, now I have to go to the privy!" She staggered off to said building to Clean herself.

"Was that what I think it was?" Myra asked in a dreamy voice. "I usually don't get hot flashes in the morning. The neighbours only sometimes fuck in the morning."

"That felt like Leila," Ben replied rather fuzzily. "I'm not ready for sex this morning."

"That wet spot at the tip of your pajama tent says otherwise." The purr in her voice was clearly audible to Harold. There was a quick swish of fabric as the pajama tent was removed, followed by a stifled moan from him as she gobbled his cock in her mouth. She didn't care if there was a listener on the other side of the fence; if anything, it made her hotter. "You know what to do with this." There was more fabric rustling as she lifted her nightie, exposing the silver curls of her bush that he'd gotten to know very well after Moser had finally come to stay for good, laid herself on the grass and opened her legs. Mere seconds later, Ben's cock had been stuffed inside in one thrust, making them both moan. Six inches wasn't the longest cock in the world, but it was long and large enough for her, especially when he'd adjusted himself so that his thrusts were rubbing against her clitoris.

"Damn you, Moser, you asshole!" Myra grunted and moaned from the other side of the fence. "Harder! Faster! Now I'll be ruined for the rest of the day!" Her orgasm was coming faster than an out-of-control freight wagon and she felt Ben's cock pulsing as she squeezed it harder and harder until it began squirting and filling her up with its hot load.

"It's a good thing that you're retired, isn't it?" he called back. Conscious that Little Miss Deer Ears was no doubt hearing everything, he refrained from a further explicit suggestion and returned to the kitchen just as Leila emerged from the privy. Marcie had turned eleven in June and had some time before puberty started, at which time he and Leila would have to curtail their lecherous activities, which would be difficult and annoying. "I'm going to put on my proper clothing now," he addressed Marcie, whose innocent look was a near duplicate of his and no more convincing. He went down the hall and into the spare bedroom where he had his clothes it its closet and dresser because Leila didn't want to move the desk and chair that were a feature of her room.

"The Chandlers saw Papa," she told her Mama when she came in, looking rather distracted. "Was Papa teasing you when he was pretending to be you?"

"Oh, he certainly was," she replied, rolling her eyes as she checked the state of the two large frypans and one medium-sized one on the stove that had been heating while they were indulging in birthday antics. The very necessary coffee pot was on the fourth corner. "Great job on the pancake batter, as usual, Marcie!" Her daughter glowed with the praise, while keeping her distance from the stove as Leila placed four dollops of batter into each large frypan. She used a set of tongs to drop three sausages into the smaller pan. "We'll have you working at the Dewdrop Inn in no time!" Marcie wrinkled her nose as her Papa emerged into the hallway, dressed for the day in his work clothes, which were a dusty brown long-sleeved buttoned shirt and an equally brown pair of heavy-duty pants, both made from sturdy hemp fabric, and in his usual slippers which he'd obviously found.

"I'd rather work at Macy's. The Dewdrop Inn is too fancy. They won't even make hamburgers!"

"It's good, basic fare that doesn't lighten the pockets as badly as the Dewdrop Inn does," Harold added as he entered the kitchen. Like all houses in town, even the fancy ones, it was the largest room in the house and its focal point. "The cats have been given their kibble, right?" They were twining around his ankles, meowing and staring up at him with big sad eyes, trying to convince him that they were starving to death when they clearly weren't.

"Yes, Papa. They gobbled it all down," Marcie replied, hands on her hips. "Maybe they really are furry piglets." Both of her parents said it frequently enough that it had stuck. "Do you want me to give them their second serving now?"

"Please do. That will buy us some peace. It makes them think that they've outsmarted us."

"You are a twisted man, Harold Moser," Leila said, waving her pancake flipper at him as Marcie doled out the second portions of kibble and the cats proceeded to devour it. Their dishes were on the floor in the far-right corner of the room and the kibble was in a cupboard just above them.

"Mmm, pancakes always taste better on birthdays. So does sausage." Leila's hot stare told him that she knew damn well what sort of sausage he was hinting at. "The best birthday present of all would be getting excused from Daughter Drop-off Duty," he wheedled. The daughter crossed her arms and shook her head gleefully and he pouted. "Don't they give you the first Friday of September off?"

"Nope! All school all the time until the Equinox Holiday!" The twenty-first was a Sunday this year, so the school holiday would be on the following Monday and he idly wondered what they should do at the Magic School to mark the occasion. Milk was extracted from the icebox by Marcie and poured carefully into their glasses, while Harold deftly lifted the coffee pot from the stove, poured hot water into his and Leila's mugs, and added the much-needed coffee powder that would help them get through the first part of the morning. Harold also grabbed the maple syrup from one of the cupboards and put it on the table while Marcie distributed plates and cutlery in a well-rehearsed sequence. Pancakes and sausage were put on plates and they all sat down to breakfast.

"We shall celebrate this birthday breakfast by eating like civilized people and not like our cats," said Leila with a baleful stare at the other two, who wouldn't meet her gaze. "There is lots of time before you have to go to school."

"To the health of the Goddess," Harold proposed, raising his milk glass. Marcie and Leila repeated it, they clinked their glasses together, drank some milk, and so started breakfast.

"Math is my first subject today," said Marcie in response to her Mama's question. "We're learning about 'irrational numbers'," she said carefully.

"I've always found it strange that you have to square an irrational number to get an integer," Harold mused as he consumed a chunk of pancake. "Mmm, delicious." Leila grunted noncommittally.

"Math was not my favourite subject. I did what I had to and no more," she grumbled. "Unfortunately, Magic Theory has a lot of math and physics in it, and it really is necessary to get a full understanding of what we do and why it works."

"And after all the years it's been studied, the theorists are sure that we've only scratched the surface. They're still looking for the big breakthrough, and I have no doubt that some of them have wound up in padded rooms for various periods of time," Harold added dryly. "I think that I liked it more than your Mama did, and I think that I still remember a good chunk of it, but I also learned only what was necessary. So, pay attention, because you're just getting started." Marcie made a face. "It might help to know that two plus two equals five, for large values of two," he added mischievously, earning a dirty look.

"Your students will be coming today," said Leila, changing the subject. "Today is the last day before you become Professor Moser."

"The ultimate birthday present from the Magic School," he sighed, not letting this get in the way of snarfing down a piece of sausage and a taking a swig from his coffee mug. "I took a tour of the building yesterday and everything is ready. Danica Gillis will make a good office administrator. She's already settled in to her office, organized files, stocked the kitchen, the library, the classroom and the laboratory, and even has the barn all set up and ready for its occupants. I noticed that it already has a pair of owls in the rafters and at least one cat in residence. We definitely need her. Thanks for helping to recruit her."

"All I did was mention it to Nellie and Myrtle," Leila replied modestly, taking a drink of milk to try to hide her shifty expression. Nellie Nix and Myrtle Stanfield ran the Magwitch Therapeutic Massage Clinic. Harold had referred to them on a few occasions as "the most reputable disreputable women in Magwitch," not entirely without reason, as they were more than happy to provide 'happy endings' to their massages. They actually were therapeutic, as the two were just as skillful as the Mages. As such, they were also very well-connected to the gossip channels.

He had deduced that Leila had demonstrated his technique of breast massage-induced orgasms to them and that they had been using them on their clinics' patrons, though direct questions only got masterful evasions. Danica had recently lost her job as the office administrator of a small contracting firm on whose owner she had blown the whistle when she'd noticed irregularities in the finances caused by his embezzling. This had caused a major scandal in the town and many had watched in silence as he'd been hauled off to Havisham in a prison wagon. Danica was one of their patrons and Nellie had made the connection between need and supply. Harold had not been difficult to convince during the interview that had been held in their backyard while drinking some tea made from herbs from their garden.

"Why is my plate empty?" Marcie asked plaintively. All three of them looked at the sad, empty wastelands of their breakfast plates, mugs, and glasses. Perhaps too dramatically, she lifted the front of her plate to see if any crumbs had somehow worked their way under it. "Yummy food disappears so fast."

"An infinite dinner plate would just make us all enormously fat," Harold sighed, then burped contentedly. "You should get ready for school and your first day walking there all by yourself."

"Nice try, Harold," Leila sighed, rolling her eyes as they placed their dishes in the sink. This time, Harold had the dubious honour of hitting them with the oh-so-useful Clean spell; the loud clattering always made them jump. It also made the cats tear off down the hallway. As an afterthought, he applied Oral Clean spells that elicited squawks and coughs from all three of them. It was a very effective spell, but it felt like someone was running bristly brushes in their mouths.

"Hmm, I'm dressed and ready to go to work, and Marcie won't want to go to school in her nightie, so I think I'll leave now and mmph!" Leila had caught him in an embrace from which escape was unthinkable. The sizzling kiss that she gave him and he returned only made it more so as Marcie ran off to her bedroom to hastily change and get her books together.

"If we had time, I'd take you to the bedroom to give you your present," Leila growled, looking into his eyes as they stood nose-to-nose. "A present that would leave you ruined and snoring in the bed."

"And you right beside me," he replied, his lips just brushing hers. "I know what you like and how you like it." The sound of their daughter clearing her throat was all that kept them from going at it then and there and they turned to look at her, patently guilty expressions on their faces. It is really good that Mama and Papa loved each other so much, she thought as he put on his shoes, leaving his walking boots on the tray. He grabbed his dust-brown hat with its red hatband from the coat rack that was to the right of the kitchen door, ignoring his jacket because it was going to be one of those early Fall days that start off cool but quickly warm up to a lovely afternoon. She wasn't sure if they could love each other a little too much, but it was certainly better than the alternative.

"Bye, Mama! See you at lunch time!" she said, giving her Mama the usual hug as Papa took his staff from where it was leaning in the corner behind the coat rack. She took her white hat from Papa and put it on over her auburn hair that had a slight curl to it and had been tied back with a bow. He gallantly held the door open for her, then made to close it.

"Out, you!" Mama ordered, well-versed to his tricks; this one was tried nearly every day like a ritual. He gave her a chaste peck on the cheek and emerged into the sunshine.

"Oh, Papa," Marcie sighed as they walked down the path toward the gate to Willow Street. "You do that every day."

"If I didn't, you'd think that something was wrong with me," he replied, not meeting her gaze. "Oh, what's this?" On the lawn close to the street was a large sign that was facing toward the corner. He walked around until he could see what it said. "Happy Birthday, Healer Harold, from the little stinkers," he read out loud. The sign was decorated with six cartoon skunks in various poses. "Whoever drew these skunks did a really good job," he said with a delighted smile. "Please be sure to tell the artist that I approve of his or her work. Even the lettering is well done. It warms my heart to know that some people devoted their time and talent to do this for me." This was truth disguised as irony. "I will keep it."

"I will, Papa. One or two of my friends may have been involved in making that sign. They will get a good scolding!" Harold doubted the sincerity of that remark.

"I hope that those responsible will make one for your Mama when the time comes. You wouldn't want her to feel left out, would you?" She sighed and shook her head.

"No, Papa. Mama deserves a birthday sign too." Four months later, on January 5th, a sign did appear on the snow on their lawn, though it had happy birds and pretty flowers instead of skunks. She had seen it from the window of the exam room when she'd opened the curtains and had had to dress up and go outside to look at it. Marcie had readily confessed when she'd come home for lunch, getting a big hug.

"It was Papa's idea. He didn't want you to feel bad for not getting a sign after he got one," she'd said innocently. Harold had come home early, having told the students at the School why and getting their support and best wishes, including a card, with ingredients for a shepherd's pie, which he knew she liked.

"I'm sure that you noticed the sign on our lawn," she said as he bustled about the kitchen preparing the meat, vegetables, and the mashed potatoes to put on top before popping it into the oven.

"Yes, it looks like the same culprits who did my sign made one for you too. That was nice of them."

"And you had nothing to do with it?" she inquired, putting her arms around him and giving him a long, incendiary kiss that left both of them glowing.

"Neither that, nor the birthday card from Danica and the students," he said truthfully, having long ago forgotten his suggestion to Marcie. She could tell that he was telling the truth, as he saw it. By now the pie was in the oven. Marcie had said that she'd be late because of a Spelling Club meeting. He felt a squeeze on the glowing tent in his pants. "Is there a birthday present that you want to unwrap?" he whispered in her ear, giving it a lick and a nibble. There was, and it was soon stuffed into her wet, swollen pussy right there on the kitchen floor with the oven mitts under her head. The floor was warm because of the hot water pipes under it that heated the house, so she felt no discomfort at all, just as she hadn't during the other times when they'd had sex in the kitchen.

"Your cum, all of it, will be the other present," she whispered back, her eyes locked on his and her lips just brushing his. "And don't try to tell me that you will hold out on me," she purred as they gently thrusted and bucked and she squeezed his wonderful thick cock and tickled it with some sparks of Magic. He moaned deliriously as he managed to send some sparks into her overcharged clitoris. The pace of humping increased rapidly as their orgasms charged through their systems and she locked him in place while he filled her with squirt after squirt of his hot seed.

"Happy birthday, my love," he mumbled as they rolled sideways and they lay in each other's arms as the wood in the stove snapped and crackled soothingly. "Oh, what a mess we made." This time it was she who cast the Clean spell to remove the mess, making them both squeal as it worked all too efficiently on their sodden genitals. "Let's keep your sign too." Harold kept both his and Leila's Happy Birthday signs that Marcie's friends had made, stashing them in the basement with the other odds and ends that had wound up there over the years. He and Leila promptly forgot about them, but someone didn't. Next year, and for the years to come, their signs mysteriously appeared on the front lawn of the Veterinary School on September 5th and January 5th, still looking as fresh as the day they'd been made.

"So, what other surprise do you have waiting for me?" She directed her attention to the flower beds of various houses that they were passing. "I guess that I will find out soon enough." They reached Sycamore Street, the second street east of their house, and turned south, where the Magwitch Public School would be encountered four blocks later. At and east of Alder Road, which further south formed the eastern boundary of the Town Park, the long blocks on Main Street were halved by east-west streets that allowed for more houses. "A birthday is a time of change when you start on a new year of your life," he mused as they walked at a moderate pace, since they had plenty of time this morning. "This birthday is extra-special because I really will be starting an entirely new chapter of my life. I've never been responsible for anyone other than myself, you, or Mama for the forty-six years I've been alive."

"Fifty-six," Marcie corrected automatically, with an equally automatic eye-roll. Denial of Birthday had now switched to Denial of Age. His comical pout and scowl did manage to earn a gap-toothed smile.

"My copies of the course content and textbooks are in my new office. Ms. Gillis has arranged for a small Opening Ceremony and reception to welcome the students this afternoon after they arrive. The building is fully stocked and the septic system has been tested and declared a success by various engineers and other interested parties." In response to her question, he continued, "It allows there to be flush toilets in a town where there's no water system. We'll still have to manually pump water into the toilet tanks, but it's a great leap forward from privies. They even managed to make a wetland area to help clean the water."

"Everyone thinks that you will be a great teacher," she replied. "You have taught me a lot of things."

"And you have taught me many things in return," he said seriously as they arrived at the gate of the schoolyard, beyond which was a hive of noise and activity as the younger kids ran around the playground while the more senior teenagers stood talking in groups. A few of them were wearing bright orange vests and walked around to assist the three teachers on yard duty. Harold's policy was to never set foot beyond the gate without express invitation from one of the teachers, which was occasionally required when an injury occurred, so he didn't follow her through the gate. "Teaching is what we call the transfer of knowledge, and it's a two-way street. Always remember that." She and some of her friends, who had been waiting by the gate, nodded thoughtfully. Donna Parker got their attention and grinned impishly.

"Happy birthday, Healer Harold!" they all chorused loudly, ignoring his shushing motions.

"There are enough people in this school that there must be at least one of you who has their birthday today. Go wish them a happy birthday, while they're young enough to enjoy it."

"Do you want cheese with that whine, Papa?" Marcie asked, hands on her hips, and they all laughed at his exaggerated shifty expression. She'd heard Mama say that more than once when he was being silly, and her pose and tone of voice were an almost exact copy. He'd also said it to her more than once when she was in Complaint Mode, and turnabout is fair play, as he also liked to say to both of them. He blew a raspberry at them, getting some chuckles for this lack of maturity.

"My inner child has spoken. I'm leaving now. Places to go, things to do." He turned on his heel and began to walk away. The kids exchanged frantic looks.

"Papa, would you like to see my classroom and meet my teacher? Mr. King said that he'd like to meet the man who was partly responsible for my creation," she said, clearly quoting him. He stopped in mid-stride and did a fancy move from one of his Forms that finished with him facing them.

"Oh, I suppose so," he said as the eight-thirty bell to summon the kids inside started to clang. "You'll have to OK it with Ms. Franklin first." Bertha Franklin had survived the experience of being Marcie's teacher last year and was on yard duty. Marcie ran off through the kids streaming toward the three doors and quickly talked to her, and she turned and waved him in with a smile. With a nod and a smile of his own, he joined Marcie and her troupe. Her class was up the stairs that were to the left of the door on the left, then straight ahead, second door on the right. The building's floor plan was rectangular, with classrooms around the perimeter on both floors that surrounded the gymnasium on the ground floor and the auditorium on the upper floor. The door was at the front of the classroom where the chalkboards were and he was swept into the room on the tide of chattering children.

The teacher's desk was at an angle in the far corner and he was standing behind it to protect himself from the influx of kids, who at first clustered along the wall that bordered the hallway to hang up their jackets and sweaters. Backpacks were transported to desks, opened, and books and notebooks unloaded. As this was going on, Harold walked across the front of the classroom and extended his hand.

"Steve King, how's your dog doing?" Steve was about Harold's height, just over six feet, with the farmer's body build that was typical of the Westlands. He had sandy blond hair cut relatively short, blue eyes that probably missed little, a medium-sized nose and a large, thin-lipped mouth locked in a smile.

"Healer Harold! Bubbie is doing very well, but she's afraid of large dogs now. Once again, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for saving her." The kids had settled down remarkably quickly.

"Happy birthday, Healer Harold," Marcie and her cronies chorused again, a little uncertainly this time. They hadn't expected him to know their teacher, let alone to have saved his dog.

"I came in to see this on the board," Steve said dryly. Harold turned to look, shook his head sadly, and put his hands on his hips, leaving his staff standing vertically with no apparent support. "Words of the Day is a regular feature of this class, but those words were not written by me."

"Ancient. Creaky. Archaic." He adopted a pensive pose, stroking his chin with the thumb and index finger of his right hand, and turned to face the class, which had gone unusually silent. "Mr. King, I think that we have a teachable moment here. May I?" he asked, gesturing at the chalkboard.

"By all means, Healer Harold," the teacher replied. He'd never seen the wicked twinkle in the man's eyes before, but he recognized what it probably was. Marcie certainly did.

"Oh-oh," she muttered and Donna, who was sitting next to her, gave her a look.

"For some reason, the word archaic reminds me of how spelling used to be before it was reformed about a hundred and fifty years ago. Do any of you know who introduced the current way we spell words?"

"King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella," said Steve Kellerman from the back of the class.

"Very good!" he praised and the boy sat up a bit straighter. "King Ferdinand had a bit of what we call 'dyslexia', which comes from a mis-wiring in the brain that makes it hard for people to read. He and the Queen were thoroughly fed up with the crazy way that a lot of words were spelled, and after consultations with people who specialized in language, The Kingdom's New Spelling Standard was published. I will now show you what they were complaining about." He Reached for a piece of chalk, sending it flying from the small shelf at the bottom of the chalkboard into his right hand. "I'll move this out of the way," he added, shifting his staff over and Mage Gluing it to the wall beside the chalkboard. His audience was wide-eyed at these casual displays of Magic. "Archaic wasn't spelled a-r-k-a-a-i-k, it was spelled this way," he continued, writing 'Archaic' next to the word, taking care to make it legible. His handwriting would never win any awards, so he had to put some effort into it. "In this case, both 'c's are pronounced like a 'k' and the 'h' is silent."

"Why put a letter into a word if you aren't going to use it?" asked Leslie Dupont, looking confused.

"That's an excellent question, one for which there's no answer. Language evolves over time, and maybe in the past, the 'h' wasn't silent. For this one, creaky wasn't spelled k-r-e-e-k-e-e, but creaky," he wrote on the board. "The 'c' didn't usually represent the 'ch' sound the way it does now. It was mostly the 'k' or the 's' sound. And you had no way of knowing unless someone told you." Now they all looked baffled. "There's no logic you could apply to a lot of the old words; you had to learn how to spell and read them. Ancient was spelled this way," he said, writing 'ancient' next to 'aancent'. "And the pair of letters 'gh' was often silent, like in the words 'light', 'might', and ought." Now the kids were looking perplexed. "And adding a letter could totally change the pronunciation, like 'through' becoming 'thorough'."

"Didn't they have spelling competitions called Spelling Bees?" the teacher asked, as old memories were dredged up from his past. Harold nodded gleefully. Marcie wanted to facepalm herself, but couldn't take her eyes off the board.

"About sixty percent of the words had silent letters in them, various combinations of letters were pronounced the same way, some combinations were pronounced differently depending on the word, and almost every general rule had its exceptions. The one advantage that the language had that Carcosan and Argosian are still burdened with is that we don't assign arbitrary genders to nouns." Several of the students had thoughtful expressions mixed in with the confusion. "I should get going," he concluded, "but I will leave one word for you to look up and discuss." He wrote 'h-y-u-u-b-r-i-s' in the current spelling and 'hubris' next to it in the old spelling. He put the chalk on the shelf and Reached for his staff, making it fly into the palm of his left hand with an audible smack.

"Thank you very much, Healer Harold," said Steve, and the kids dutifully applauded. He gave Polite Bow #2 in return. "Marcie, I think that you should be the one to perform this task." He gestured to the large dictionary that was on a podium next to the teacher's desk. Gritting her teeth against what she expected would be an unpleasant surprise, she got up from her desk that was two rows and three columns from the teacher's desk, walked to the podium, flipped through the dictionary until she found the word, and read out,

"Hubris. Excessive pride or self-confidence. In ancient tragic plays, excessive pride towards or defiance of the Gods, leading to an unpleasant downfall." Her face, and those of her co-conspirators, had turned a shade of red.

"Have a good day," the Mage replied with a wink, leaving the room and closing the door.

"The man has style, no question about it," mused Steve after a long pause. "Yes, Kelly?" he said in response to a raised hand.

"Where can we find out about more of those strange spellings? Is there a book or something?"

"I vaguely recall that The Kingdom published a translation book, old to new and new to old. I'm sure there must be a copy lurking around somewhere. Maybe we can write to them to ask. Someone in the Town Library would surely know."

"My parents have a lot of old books. Maybe they have a copy," said Marcie, now back in her seat. "I will check when I get home for lunch."

"I will go to the Town Library," Kelly Doyle volunteered. Her plain brown hair, plain face, and mild brown eyes concealed a keen intellect that had been noted in her student file early on. "I know whom to ask." And so, the Antique Spelling Club was born. In June, Harold found himself roped into moderating the Annual Spelling Bee, an honour from which he was unable to extricate himself for the rest of his life. He always scowled when he was reminded that he had nobody to blame but himself.

-=-=-=-=-=

"I am so glad to be finally rid of the morning sickness and hormone craziness," Stella Webber told her husband, whom she'd married on a very eventful Summer Solstice about two and a half months ago. As she had hoped, he'd knocked her up on their wedding night, but the first month and a half had been difficult to deal with as her body couldn't seem to figure out how to cope with this new situation. "I am hoping that the horniness will also reduce to a more normal level soon." Mark Magnussen, her husband, had met her when he'd arrived in town in mid-May along with his mother Dana, two Army Colonels, and Healer Lakash Moto from Havisham. Privately, he couldn't have agreed more, as her need for sex for the past two days had had his thick, seven-and-a-half-inch cock buried in her pussy at least twice a day and was exhausting him. But at the same time, he couldn't get enough of ogling her body, with the baby bump now just starting to show, and with her C-sized breasts with small, pink areolas and hard, medium-sized nipples that were swaying back and forth in front of his face as she rode him. He gently stroked and teased a nipple until she moaned, shook, and squeezed him hard as she came.

"I'm glad you're not sick anymore too," he replied as they stared into each other's eyes. Hers were brown and his were nearly the same odd shade of blue as his father's. Healer Harold/Dad had demonstrated a spell for sending little magic sparks from his cock into her clitoris, which he'd assured should be enough to put out even her fire for a while. After some surreptitious solo practice, he decided that it was time to try it out. A backfire had sent sparks into his cock and caused him to hose the back of the barn with several hard squirts of cum that he'd had to hastily Clean after he'd recovered his wits. He'd been using a similar spell that he'd worked out himself, but this was much more effective. "I've got a little surprise for you," he whispered as she started riding him again. "It may help with your problem." She watched him concentrate and make moves with his hands and fingers.

"What... are... you... doing?" she moaned raggedly, looking at him wild-eyed. Something was tickling her hard bud much more than usual and it was overloading her. Somehow, she was suddenly on her back and he had adjusted his position so that his wonderful cock was rubbing against her clitoris, but it was doing something more than just rubbing... She grabbed a pillow, crammed it over her mouth, and screamed into it as the entire lower half of her body spasmed and she felt a hot squirt of cum splash against her cervix. "You have improved with that," she said blearily after her brain had regained its ability to communicate.

"Did it finally scratch that itch?" he replied, equally blearily. "Dad showed it to me when I mentioned that you were not being... satisfied." He focused enough to Clean the mess between her legs, making her squeal weakly, and she rolled onto her side to look at him.

"You always satisfy me!" she said forcefully, poking him in the chest. "You are the best lover, the most loving lover, a woman could ever ask for! Not just here in the bed, but everywhere. The way you look at me, it's like you're undressing me with your eyes. You help with my studies, getting me ready for my practical exam today if the examiner gets here as promised, you treat me like a queen and my family like yours. I don't deserve such a wonderful man!" He wiped away her tears and held her close.

"You deserve all this and more. You deserve a man who will be by your side every day, not one going insane in school three days away in The Capital."

"Life is what it is," she replied, her lips just brushing his. "You can't learn everything you need to know to become a Healer here, let alone any Metallurgical Magic. I have my family here to help. We'll get through it somehow, and when you've graduated, you'll be able to come back here for good."

"Only then will I be the happiest man on the planet." They kissed tenderly.

"I just hope that the family who will be helping me didn't get ruined by us. Again." They both turned red. "But I think that my itch has been well scratched, and I will be able to behave myself. The last thing I want is to be getting horny in the middle of my exam."

"I think that your mind will be occupied with more important things," Mark replied, reluctantly disentangling himself and getting out of the bed. She followed suit and they quickly dressed. "The other Veterinary Magic students will be coming today as well. We'll be having the official Opening Ceremony sometime after that. It's quite the place that they've built for us." They had both toured around it with Dad yesterday and all had been impressed, especially with the flush toilets, which they had tried out. "Your examiner will likely be in one of the coaches, so all the fun will happen at once." She made a face.

"You're not the one doing the exam," she countered, smacking his ass in response to his cheeky grin. "Though I'm sure that you'll be having some soon enough." They went downstairs to the kitchen and saw that once again they were the first ones down. "We should get things started." Mark Cleaned the ash out of the stove, directing it to a can next to it that was reserved for this purpose, while Stella pumped water into the kettle. He loaded the required amount of wood and kindling and got the fire started and she scurried out the door to the privy.

"Good morning, Caroline. Good morning, Ted," he greeted Stella's parents as they entered the kitchen, both with somewhat unfocused expressions. She had a contented smile and he looked dazed.

"Have you found a solution to our daughter's latest problem?" Ted asked as Caroline stood at the door, looking through its window, waiting for Stella to emerge.

"I believe that I have," Mark replied, turning a bit red in the face. "Time will be the judge."

"I'm in no rush for a solution," Caroline purred, giving her husband a hot stare. "All of the activity has given him much more stamina than he had before." It was Ted's turn to get a bit red in the face as Caroline opened the door and walked out with a bit more sway to her hips and ass than usual. The two men watched her exchange a high-five with her somewhat confused daughter as they went past each other. Sam and Marjorie Turner, Caroline's parents, arrived after Ted and Mark had had their turns in the privy and the making of breakfast, which was ham, eggs, and toast today, was well under way.

"You two are going to kill me someday," Sam rumbled good-naturedly. "But I will die with a smile." Marjorie smirked as once again the perpetrators felt themselves blushing. They went out the door and by the time they'd returned, the food was being plated and served with a glass of milk and a mug of coffee.

"It's awfully good of the examiner to come all this way just for me," said Stella, partway through the meal. "I thought that I'd have to go to Havisham where the local Smiths Guild chapter is like I did for the written exam."

"The letter said that we were due for an inspection anyway," said Marjorie. "It's just a formality." Not that this hadn't had all of them giving all of the tools a good inspection and testing and the forge a good cleaning and checking yesterday. The raw materials had also been examined and rearranged where necessary. They had no worries on that front.

"So, Mom, how did your appointment with Healer Leila go yesterday?" Caroline asked, consuming some of the coffee that would be needed to power her through a project. Inspection or no, there was work to be done and money to be made.

"She fixed up my arm and shoulder again, and told me rather forcefully," she said with a smile, "that a woman of my age should not be smashing hot metal with heavy objects and should be focusing on less physically demanding tasks."

"And..." Ted prompted, giving her a look that was often employed on uncooperative horses.

"She gave my brain a very thorough examination and couldn't see any obvious signs of dementia. At least for now. Though an argument could be made for it by my insistence on bashing hot metal with heavy objects." There was a noticeable relaxation around the table, except for Sam, who had escorted her to and from the appointment and had promised to keep the result under wraps. He had been fascinated by Leila's use of the Window to pass through his wife's head, first top to bottom and then left to right, and the Healer had pointed out the various parts of the brain and what to look for in typical cases of the early stages of dementia. Marjorie had also demanded to see, so Leila had had to conjure a couple of reflective surfaces, which had made for an interesting spectacle for Marcie, Donna, and Kelly to see when they'd come home from school. The girls had been quiet, respectful, and very interested, and had all given her heart-warming hugs when the positive results had been announced.

"In other words, Leila looked at her head and found nothing," Sam added, ignoring the withering stare to which he'd become accustomed long ago.

"That's such a relief," said Stella, unsuccessfully hiding a grin behind a piece of toast.

"I am growing old gracelessly," Marjorie concluded, "and her prescription was mental exercises like puzzles and maybe distance education on something. Use it or lose it." The others nodded. Of all the people in the kitchen sharing breakfast, she was the most relieved that her lapses in concentration were just from old age and not something more sinister. She wanted to be here to welcome her great-grandchild into the world. 'Use it or lose it' got her to remembering yesterday.

Prior to Mark's arrival, bed life with Sam had been occasional as age did its work on their bodies. Now he was as hard and thick and she as hot and wet as they had been in their prime. Even without the orgasm wave stimulus, his cock would get hard and then get put to good use as soon as was practical. Yesterday, they had been getting the barn tidied up. Peanut, their marmalade tabby cat, had wanted some attention and she had bent over to pet and scratch him.

A short time later, something hard had poked her ass and she'd looked over her shoulder to see him with his pants and underwear down and cock hard and throbbing. Soon her pants and underwear were down and he had pushed into her from behind as she'd bent over a stall door. It had been a nice, leisurely fuck - one advantage of the aging body was that it took longer for him to come - and after a few minutes of increasingly urgent thrusting, she had been squeezing him to the point where he couldn't move and she'd felt his cum erupt into her. He'd held her from behind, squeezing and fondling her breasts in some unusual sequence until her second orgasm had expelled his softened cock and left a mess on the barn floor that had had to be covered up with some sawdust. After a quick cleanup with some handy rags, they'd carried on as if nothing had happened.

"I'll be spending the morning at the clinic with Dad," said Mark as the last of the coffee disappeared and people looked sadly at the bottoms of empty mugs. "It's his birthday today, but he doesn't want anyone to make a big deal about it." His eyes got shifty. "But there might be some cupcakes waiting for him."

"Marcie and friends were busy yesterday running around town making sure everyone knows," said Ted, remembering how they'd come into the Webber Transportation office after school to gleefully blab. "Apparently, he had never been in town on his birthday when he was a travelling Healer with the Order of St. Thrimble. There won't be a big party, but they want us to all wish him a happy birthday when we see him. She added that he might get a bit grumpy," he concluded with an eye roll.

"He will probably find a way to get some sort of revenge," Mark replied, looking rather uncomfortable and getting some interested looks. "It will be subtle and devious, but he can't get revenge on everyone. Can he?"

"He will bide his time and wait for an opportunity," said Sam with a grin as they all got up. He'd dropped into his former clinic every so often, which still bore the "Turner's Veterinary Clinic" name even though he'd formally sold the business to Harold at the end of May and officially retired, and had found it running smoothly. The Healer's main administrative talent seemed to be to let the people do their jobs and to provide assistance as necessary. The 'Policies and Procedures' set of binders that described in detail everyone's jobs - what they did and how they did it - to allow others to step in during an absence, had been the one new thing, and he had been surprised at just how much knowledge was needed to operate the place. "Of course, the side-effects of revenge can be unpredictable."

"Or, he may do the smart thing and just roll with it," Caroline said tartly as the dishes were assembled in the sink. Stella took the pieces of ham that had been set aside for Peanut, put them on a plate, and opened the back door. The cat, who had been waiting on the doorstep, meowed and got up from loaf position to accept the breakfast that his servant had delivered. "It has been known to happen." Mark hit the dishes with the Clean spell, creating a loud clattering that still made them jump a bit. Mark thought that his father was more of a corrective type than a vengeful type and wondered how he would react to the inevitable pranks that his classmates would try and in which he probably wouldn't participate.

"You mean, a man doing the smart thing?" Marjorie inquired, earning eye rolls from the men.

"I married you," Sam replied genially as the dishes were put into their places in the cupboards. "I think that qualifies." His wife patted his wrinkled cheek with her strong, wrinkled hand.

"Every rule has its exceptions." They broke up to go to the bathroom to brush their teeth and get ready for the day. Mark applied Oral Clean to himself and Stella; the others had declined daily treatment after their first experience with it, preferring to keep it to once a week because it felt quite unpleasant. They all went into the backyard, with the women heading to the smithy to get it started up and the men to the horse pasture, stopping at the barn to pick up the oats for the two oversized pigs, as they were commonly referred to. Hershey, Benny and Bessie's foal who'd been born by a C-section performed by Sam with Mark's help on the day after he'd first arrived in Magwitch, didn't count as a pig yet, mainly because he wasn't even four months old and wasn't weaned.

All three were chestnut brown with white patches on their bellies, chests, and foreheads. Ted and Sam lugged saddles and blankets, Ted for Benny, whom he rode to work and employed in local transportation work, and Sam for Bessie, who needed regular exercise despite her important role as a nursing mother. Hershey came with them of course, partly for the exercise and partly for socialization with other humans and horses that they would encounter on their walks. The colt had quickly learned how to soak up the attention that people lavished on him, especially at the Webber Transportation compound. Getting the horses accustomed to seeing other horses at work while they were young made it easier to get them into the groove when the time was right.

He'd become attached to Mark, would always trot up to the pasture fence for head and ear scratches, and was always game for racing back and forth along the fence, or sometimes in the pasture. He'd even learned to pretend to keep it close, easily pacing him until they'd almost reached what he thought was the goal, at which point he'd go just a little bit faster to 'win'. It wasn't that he didn't need the exercise, Mark would think as he was puffing while Hershey had hardly broken a sweat. All that great home cooking was beginning to make him fill out, despite the drains on his system caused by Magic, metalworking, and learning metalworking Magic from a textbook. Stella was no Mage, but she had a good understanding of what the Magic was trying to do, and was sometimes able to demonstrate it in the smithy.

"Oh, what's this?" Sam asked in surprise. Not too far from the pasture's gate were standing a doe and her fawn, which they judged to be about as old as Hershey. The fawn and Hershey were sniffing each other, then as the humans approached, it ran away along the fence and the colt immediately followed. The men and the doe watched as the two young critters ran back and forth, way faster than Mark could.

"Oh, for that level of energy," Ted groaned, melodramatically putting a hand to his lower back, earning chuckles. Oddly, the doe only backed a small distance away from them instead of bolting like deer usually do when approached by humans, as they approached and opened the gate. Benny and Bessie were waiting expectantly by their food troughs and also watching their offspring playing with the fawn.

"Something's wrong with the doe," said Mark, watching it as he scooped out the horses' rations from the sack while Ted and Sam started saddling the horses. "She's standing wrong." He hauled the heavy canvas bag back through the gate, knowing from experience that both Benny and Bessie would gobble what they could from it when his back was turned, then try to look totally innocent, even when caught in the act. Once, Benny had then trotted off with his head held high, trying to look Mortally Offended at Mark's scolding, but the effect had been spoiled by a loud fart, then about fifteen seconds of bucking and farting as he tried to kick away the annoying 'fart flies' that kept bothering his backside.

"Come here, sweetie," he said softly, kneeling to make himself smaller and extending his right hand for the deer to sniff. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to see what's wrong." The doe awkwardly stepped toward him, her left rear leg obviously injured somehow. He offered her a small amount of oats in his left hand which she sniffed, tasted, then quickly ate.

"What's wrong with the deer?" Ted asked as he worked on getting the saddle onto Benny.

"She's got claw scratches on her thigh," Mark replied. "A predator nearly got her. I can handle this." He carefully said some words and made corkscrew motions with his hands and fingers and cast the Tourniquet spell around the deer's upper leg, which was the familiar band of soft orange and turquoise that acted to numb pain and stop blood flow. Sam was able to see him cast Clean to get rid of the blood in her matted fur and Sterilize in each scratch and the skin around them to ward off infection. Gentle inspection revealed no damage to the underlying muscle, so he pinched the skin together and Healed the scratches. Finally, he released the Tourniquet. He became aware of an audience as he stopped focusing on the doe, and looked up to see the fawn and Hershey watching him. "You're all set," he said to the doe, who had also been watching him work, patting her on the flank as he stood up rather shakily. He looked further along the fence and saw a small herd of about eight does and fawns and a buck with an elegant set of antlers, watching them from a safe distance.

"Off you go," he continued, pointing to the herd. "Your friends are waiting." With a last glance over their shoulders, the two deer bounded away gracefully and the herd vanished into the small woods that made part of the boundary with the neighbouring farm.

"Nicely done," Sam said, a smile rearranging the wrinkles on his face, as he got into Bessie's saddle. Ted was already on Benny. "The animals are far more perceptive than we realize."

"They can see Mages' auras," Mark replied, grabbing the heavy bag of oats as his father-in-law and grandfather-in-law got their horses moving out the gate and wondered why he didn't just fill a big bucket instead. "And somehow, they know the Healers. Dad said that he was regularly approached by all sorts of wildlife on his travels. Even a pack of wolves one time when he was out in the back of beyond somewhere. They can understand Raven-speak, and ravens understand them, and he was able to talk to them through a raven. The mate of the pack leader had gotten badly injured by a bear they'd been going after and he was able to save her life." His audience raised their eyebrows in surprise.

"Always respect the ravens," said Ted thoughtfully, echoing Harold's advice. The riders carried on down the driveway as Mark put the oats back in the barn and closed its door. The smithy was going, as the smoke from the chimney and clangs and bangs coming from the open door and window indicated, and he took the time to look around and to listen to the breeze rustling the leaves in the trees, leaves that would no longer be there in a couple of months.

"I am really going to miss this place when I have to go back to The Capital," he said to himself. "But I will always come back whenever I can, for as long as I can until the day I can come back for good." He was due at the Veterinary Clinic, so he closed the barn door, retrieved the cloth bag with his sandwich box and coffee mug for lunch in it and began the walk past the house and down the long driveway. He crossed the road through the early morning traffic and reached the tastefully painted sign for the Magwitch School for Magical Veterinary Sciences that was next to its driveway. It and the large barn behind it gleamed in the sunlight. "There lies my future," he said, feeling the anticipatory dread that always comes on the cusp of a major change in life.

The clinic was only a few doors north of South Street that led to the hospital and police station and faced the Central Park that was the hub of the Town's public life. He detected his father's presence, looked across Main Street and saw him on the sidewalk, his trademark staff in his left hand. He scurried across through a break in the traffic.

"I can't recall you feeling smug before, Dad," he said with a smile. "What did you do?"

"Marcie and friends were a tad disrespectful toward my birthday," he replied dryly as they entered the clinic's waiting room. He explained what had happened at the school and Mark and Virginia Klassen, the receptionist and office administrator, snickered.

"We did get some cupcakes, Healer Harold," said Virginia, "having been alerted by Marcie, who seemed determined to spread the news far and wide, though I have no idea why."

"I will share them with anyone who wants one," he replied, "unless they're Cartwright cupcakes, in which case I will beat everyone off until I'm too gorged and ill to eat any more." Joe Stevens and Julie Millet, the veterinarians, and Brad Kimble, the veterinary assistant, came in through the door that was to the left of the reception desk. Brad was pushing a cart that had an anonymous cardboard box on it.

"Drumroll, please," he said in his pleasant tenor voice and Virginia and Julie complied, smacking their hands on the counter as Brad and Joe made the dramatic reveal of a dozen cupcakes with white icing and "Healer Harold" in alternating green and turquoise letters. They were indeed from the Cartwright Bakery, long known as the Destroyer of Diets among other things, and all six of them were doing their best to not drool. With a great effort, Harold said,

"One for each of us, then either we each get another or we save them for the clients?" This seemed reasonable, but anything would seem reasonable if it resulted in a cupcake, so they each took one, carefully removed the paper at the bottom, and did everything that they could to eat them as slowly as possible. They discovered that there were vanilla, cherry, lemon, and blueberry flavors, and that they were soon gone.

"Anybody listening in would have thought there was an orgy going on in here," Joe snickered as they eyed the remaining treats longingly.

"I will save my second one for later," Harold sighed. "Please feel free to enjoy your other cupcake." His left hand reached for the box, seemingly of its own accord, before he grabbed his left wrist with his right hand and pulled it back, miming the pull against an irresistible force and getting some chuckles for his performance. They left one with an H on it sitting lonely in the box, filling the air with more moans and grunts as the confections were consumed.

"There's a small box in the storeroom that we can put this one into," said Brad, retreating to the back rooms to look for it. Harold closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly released it.

"I have a feeling that someone will come into the office today who will be needing this more than I do now," he said after Brad had returned only a minute later. "One thing that you learn when wandering around is to trust your hunches." He carefully placed the cupcake into a box that had held bottles of antiseptic and closed it. "Thank you for thinking of me. I feel kind of in limbo at the moment, waiting for the students to come and for my life to change forever." Mark's eyes widened at this admission of vulnerability. He'd only known him for a few months, and had always seen him as a source of strength.

"I think that you are a natural teacher," he said as the door opened and a woman entered, leading a reluctant, medium-sized dog of mixed parentage into the waiting room.

"Sorry for being a bit late," she apologized as she closed the door. "I have no idea how Baxter knew that our morning walk would lead us here." She surveyed the crowd in the waiting room and, upon seeing Harold, added "Happy birthday, Healer Harold." The Mage rolled his eyes, as he suspected that he'd be doing all day, and bent down to give Baxter a scratch behind the ears.

"Animals are amazingly perceptive, Ms. Carlo," said Julie. "I'm Dr. Millet. Please bring Baxter into the exam room and we can have a look at him. Mark, would you care to join us?"

"Of course, Dr. Millet," he replied, perking up. "I'm Mark Magnussen, Veterinary Healer in Training." They shook hands and went through the door by the desk, leaving Harold, Brad, and Joe in the waiting room looking at each other.

"Is there any administrative work that I need to be doing?" Harold asked Virginia. "I think that I'm supposed to be doing something to earn my keep." Right on cue, the door opened and a harried-looking man holding a carrier, from which a cat was complaining loudly, followed by a dusty, equally harried-looking woman, whom Harold recognized as Betty White, one of the horse wranglers from Webber Transportation. Brad looked into the carrier, sighed and shook his head.

"It's Mitzi, here for her shots, Mr. Cornish?" Brad asked. The man nodded, looking resigned. "OK, Joe, I'll armor up and meet you guys in the other exam room."

"Happy birthday, Healer Harold," said Betty, rather breathlessly. "A two-wheeled cart took some damage getting around the construction zone north of town and its axle broke when it got to the compound. The driver got thrown, the horse panicked and ran around and spooked the other horses, and things went rapidly downhill from there."

"Busy birthday," Harold replied. "It looks like I've got something to keep me occupied, Virginia."

"See you later," she replied as they hastily decamped. The road paving project had been making good progress and was likely to finish at the School by the end of October. It was going to make a mess out of the Main Street commercial strip as it was passing through town, but everyone was looking forward to a finally getting a proper road. They scuttled across the street and headed for the compound.

-=-=-=-=-=

Once Harold and Marcie had left, Leila started the process for baking birthday cookies for her husband. She and Marcie had been in the Swap Shop two days ago looking for something to give him when she'd spotted the bathrobe and Marcie had seen the bunny slippers, which had coincidentally been in his shoe size. She had no idea from whom her daughter had inherited the spark of wickedness in her eyes, but they had brought the things home and stashed them in Marcie's room where he wouldn't be snooping. Last night, she had slipped out of bed once he'd fallen asleep... well, more like all but fallen out of bed. They'd put Marcie to bed and gone outside to enjoy the balmy evening with herbal tea, books, and of course Mage Lights to provide light by which to read them. She'd been wearing a long but relatively lightweight plaid skirt and had let him know, by way of a discreet flash of her carefully-trimmed coppery bush, that she was going commando.

"Oops," he had said a few minutes later, dropping his book onto the patio and somehow knocking it under the table. "I'd better get that." Once under the table, she'd felt the front of her skirt lifted, his head move under it, and his tongue invading her pussy, which had already been hot, wet, and glowing with anticipation in her colours of yellow and turquoise. She'd shifted her ass forward for easier access and he'd taken advantage, licking and sucking her while gently stroking her inner thighs and behind her knees. He hadn't even needed to tickle her clitoris with Magic sparks to make her come with a cushion-muffled shriek and a hefty squirt for him to lap up.

"Mmm, minty," he had said, responding to the flavour she had conjured for her juices. He had worked his way out from under the table and placed his book on it. She had directed an unfocused gaze at his face and had managed to plaintively ask,

"We aren't sex addicts, are we? Ever since you finally came home to stay, we've been going at it like rabbits. Not that I'm complaining," she added as her somewhat more focused gaze came to rest on the tent, glowing with his colours of forest green and turquoise, in his pants. It only took moments for the pants and underwear to be removed, revealing his thick, seven-inch cock in all its glory.

"Nor are the neighbours," he had groaned as she gobbled it up, then teased its sensitive glans. Some barely stifled moans and grunts had started up from the other side of the fence, from more than two people by the sound of it. "But it feels so good," he had grunted as she did something with her tongue as she had moved up and down his shaft and stroked and fondled his scrotum, her eyes locked on his. "For both of us. And it's... so... easy." A hefty squirt of cum, followed by smaller ones, had been devoured by the relentless sperm predator. The noises from next door had paused briefly after he'd come.

"Oh, that felt so good," said a female voice drowsily. "OH!"

"Cherry, one of my favourites," Leila had said. "I am an addict without shame or remorse. I love you, Harold Moser, and I will never be able to get enough of you."

"And I will never get enough of you," he had replied, brushing her half-copper, half-silver hair away from her face with both hands. "I will love you for all my days." They had gone to bed shortly after and cuddled naked until he'd fallen asleep, after which point she'd overcome the need for sleep to all but fall out of the bed to hide his slippers and dressing gown in the spare bedroom and replace them.

"I had no idea that I'd get so hot seeing him in that dressing gown," she muttered as she mixed the carefully-measured dry ingredients in a bowl while the stove heated up. "If I have a sex addition, and I probably do, how can I get it under control? What void is it trying to fill?" She put tablespoons of oatmeal raisin batter arranged three by five on a baking sheet. "My pussy's void, of course." The sheet was popped into the oven and she started putting blobs of batter on a second sheet.

The automatic nature of the baking process, its having been done so many times, allowed her mind to wander, and she found herself thinking of the time that she and Harold had been in The Capital a month ago for him to sign the papers that would officially make him a Professor. They had been dropped off at the Memorial Park by the local Goddess and had met five Professors and the Headmaster, who had been waiting for them. As they had been leaving, after an emotional tour that had included the Carcosa War Memorial and a Rainbow Bridge Pet Memorial, the subject of the use of Erotic Energy in spells had been brought up. "I have Erotic Energy to spare," she muttered as more cookies were placed on the cooling racks and cool ones had been transferred to a large tin. "Maybe instead of entertaining the neighbours, I should put it to better use." The kitchen clock chimed nine o'clock just as she pulled the last cookie sheet from the oven and at the same moment there was a polite tap-tap from her door knocker. Her first appointment for the day had arrived right on time. "Come in!" she called down the hallway. "I'm just taking something out of the oven!"

"Oh, that smells like cookies!" exclaimed Helen Jaggers as she took off her shoes, holding a large envelope in her left hand. She looked like a stereotypical farm girl, with honey-blonde hair, bright green eyes and a smile that could light up a room. She was wearing a pale green T-shirt and matching darker green maternity dress that went halfway down her shins. "You'd better keep me away from the kitchen or I'll eat all of them!" Leila transferred cookies from the cooling rack to the can, then from the cookie sheet from to the cooling rack. She grabbed a small plate and put three of them onto it and took another cookie for herself in her other hand.

"This was in your mailbox. The Journal of Applied Magical Sciences." Leila's expression brightened as she moved down the hallway, noting that the cats were snoozing on Marcie's bed. "I'll trade you." Helen was glad to make the exchange. "People told me that you get hungry when you're pregnant, but I had no idea that it would be like this. Mmm, oh, Goddess, these are so good!"

"Mmf," was all that Leila was able to say as she exercised a tremendous amount of restraint and only bit half of hers. They were soft, chewy, and still warm from the oven.

"It's Harold's recipe," she mumbled as they went into the exam room, which was to the right of the door. "This is as close as he's been able to get to the Cartwrights' recipe. Marcie and I kept telling him to try again just to get more cookies. The rotter saw through us pretty quickly. Marcie's bringing her locust-like friends over to devour them probably tipped him off." Her cookie gone and with Helen desperately trying to make hers last as long as possible, Leila opened the envelope and pulled out the journal, whose table of contents was printed on its cover. "Oh, the paper that Harold and I wrote about the technique to repair damaged vas deferens tubes that we developed for Tom's injury is here! I'll have to tell him when he gets home." She turned to see that Helen had laid herself on the leather examination couch and was comically gnawing on her plate, hoping to get any last trace of cookie flavour.

"Have you been taking silly lessons from Harold?" Leila demanded, hands on her hips. Helen giggled and handed her the plate, which was placed on her desk alongside the journal. "It's too soon to know the baby's gender for sure," the Healer continued, saying the sentences and making the complex series of gestures to summon a Window, which materialized from the air looking like a two-foot-square pane of glass. She shrank it to a more manageable size and moved it over Helen's belly.

"I want to see my baby, please." Leila was expecting this was already summoning a reflective surface that her patient was able to adjust to her satisfaction. "Huh. You'd think it would be bigger than this at seventeen weeks," she said. "The Goddess knows I've been eating enough to make one the size of a horse." Her smile was one of resignation. "At least my breasts have been getting larger to match the rest of me, but they're also tender. Tom has been very gentle with them, but they still hurt." She looked sad as Leila continued her examination of the fetus. "I'm afraid that if I max out, he won't find me attractive anymore." Leila looked up to see tears in Helen's pretty green eyes.

"Does he still get hard when you show yourself off to him?" she inquired mildly. Helen reddened, nodded, and squirmed a bit uncomfortably.

"I like pulling down his pants and watching it grow," she whispered. "He gets so hard just watching me, even with my clothes on. Which usually isn't for long."

"The dick doesn't lie," Leila replied, feeling a bit warm in spite of her best effort. "It has a tiny brain all of its own, and it's focused on getting one thing."

"Which it has been getting because I've been horny as hell for no good reason."

"Love doesn't care what you look like. It... only cares that it's you." Both of their eyes were suddenly full of tears as they remembered loving moments with their husbands. Leila remembered cold winter nights with them naked under the warm blankets, Harold's cock sunk in to the hilt, and them just lying on their sides, arms wrapped around each other and trading soft kisses. Sometimes they'd even fallen asleep that way, but most of the time it ended with bucking, thrusting, squirting and moaning.

Helen remembered that two days ago she'd thought she'd be naughty and tease Tom by going commando in the pants that had been getting too tight because of the weight she was gaining. She'd made sure he noticed her camel toe in her crotch, and he had. She'd been accompanying him as he had been hauling a bucket of oats for their horse and cow in the pasture when she'd tripped over something and fallen on her hands and knees. There had been a loud ripping noise as the entire seam had given way, leaving her nether regions completely exposed to the afternoon sunshine. She had turned her head to look over her shoulder and had seen Tom's comically pop-eyed expression.

"I love you, Helen Jaggers," he'd croaked. With his eyes locked on hers, he'd slowly unbuttoned his pants and allowed them to fall to the ground, revealing seriously tented underwear. "Want to see more?"

"Take off the underwear," she had hissed, and he had, revealing his rampant erection.

"I'd better take this to the privy and beat it to death."

"You'd better stuff it into my pussy and pound me until you fill me with cum," she'd commanded. She'd watched him kneel behind her, then felt him teasing her by rubbing the tip of that wonderfully thick eight-inch cock on her swollen labia before pushing it in all the way. She'd come almost immediately and had kept on coming as they'd rutted for almost a minute until he'd groaned loudly, flooded her with cum, and half collapsed on her back, his softening cock still inside.

"I have loved you since the day we met in kindergarten," he'd whispered in her ear. "I am the luckiest man alive." Helen managed to pull her mind out of the gutter and back to the present before she pulled up her dress, pulled down her underwear, and Healer Leila or no, finished herself off then and there.

"Then yesterday, this happened, and I have no idea what's going on!" She sat up, pulled off her T-shirt, then removed her bra, revealing plump, D-sized breasts. Leila's eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of the medium-sized brown areolas that had puffed out about a half inch. "Can you fix them? They look weird and are very sensitive."

"In all my years, I've never seen puffy areolas," the Healer replied taking a step back and putting her chin in her left hand thoughtfully. What she really wanted to do was lick and suck on those nipples and then squeeze and fondle the tits like what Harold had done to her this morning. Damn the man, he'd gotten her started with no way for her to give him the birthday fuck that he deserved and she needed. "I can try the spell that we use for swelling caused by an injury," she ventured. She said a few words in a language that Helen didn't recognize and made a corkscrew motion with her hands and fingers and a circle that glowed with yellow and turquoise light appeared around her patient's left breast.

"Oh!" Helen exclaimed. "I can't feel it!"

"It's the Numb spell. I have no idea if what I'm going to try will hurt and I figure that you'd rather not find out the hard way." Helen's blonde hair moved as she nodded, wide-eyed. Leila wove strands of red, brown, dark blue, and light blue into a circular pattern on the areola and said two words, but the pattern just sank into the skin with no effect.

"Your breasts are glowing," Helen observed, raising an eyebrow. "And your crotch too."

"This happens to Mages when we get horny," she replied, not meeting Helen's eyes. "It's very inconvenient. Harold did wicked things to me this morning and I was unable to properly retaliate," she scowled, turning a shade of pink. Helen snickered. "I've got all this Erotic Energy with nothing to do with... it..." She paused, thinking about the pattern she'd used. "You know, I think that there's some room in that spell for an Erotic thread. The other threads were the standard Fire, Earth, Water, and Air," she explained, getting a nod. She reached down to her crotch and pulled a thread of turquoise and yellow into the air in front of her, pulled threads of the Elements from the air, and wove all five into the same pattern but with the Erotic thread fitting neatly into a gap made by the others. She said, "Tumor subsidunt" and applied the pattern to the left areola, which glowed, shrank back to normal, then swelled up again. "Damn! I should have used the other pattern." She repeated the process but with a slightly different pattern, and this time it stuck. The right areola was then reduced and it was a toss-up as to which of the women was more astonished.

"Wow, Healer Leila," gasped Helen, holding her breasts and looking at them closely. "It's incredible! Thank you so much!" Leila found herself on the receiving end of a topless hug that nearly squeezed the breath out of her. The self-described farm girl was fit and had muscles; that much was apparent.

"And based on what I saw," Leila wheezed, "I'm pretty sure that it's a boy that's growing in there." The pure joy that Helen was radiating as she got dressed in record time and practically floated out the door was contagious and Leila found herself grinning like an idiot as she Sterilized the exam couch and opened the windows in the room and then the house to let in the fresh air. Appointments like this more than made up for the less happy things that she had to deal with more frequently, like the man and two kids, all of whom looked unwell, who had just arrived and were walking up the path to the door. School hadn't been going for a week yet and already people were getting sick. She grimaced and went to the door to greet them, making an internal bet with herself as to what illness it was. She'd have to put the cookies away once they had been dealt with, but not until after a very thorough self-Sterilization.

-=-=-=-=-=

"You go ahead and I'll catch up," Betty puffed as they hustled toward the Webber Transportation compound, which wasn't that far away. "I was never meant to be a runner."

"OK, Betty," he replied. "Any idea of what I can expect?" She shrugged her shoulders.

"The situation was still evolving when I left." He nodded grimly, having experienced several episodes of horse-driven calamity. The main problem with them was that they are about as smart as pre-school children but have a sensory apparatus that is far keener than that of humans. This, along with their instinct for self-preservation, causes them to react and often panic when something sudden and unusual happens, and crowds of horses panic in much the same way as crowds of humans. This had been exploited when his magically Amplified song had caused the already chaotic battlefield in Carcosa to disintegrate as all of the horses on both sides had become convinced that a Horse-Eating Monster was coming to get them, had thrown their riders, and had run every which way trying to escape. For their part, the Carcosan soldiers had thought that their God had opened the gates of Hell and had broken and fled through the rain and mud, with at least half making it to and through the city's main gate. The Kingdom's forces had experienced the same horse issues; otherwise far fewer of the enemy would have made it to fight in the streets.

"Probably not for the better. I'll see you there." He accelerated while she dropped her pace to a walk and watched him weave his way through the morning shoppers with remarkable speed before turning right at Poppy Street just past Macy's Diner. It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes since it had all started but the staff at Webber Transportation, all of them by the look of it, seemed to have things under control in the large staging area that was to the west of the large converted house that served as the office. A storm-gray horse dappled with small black and white spots was standing in the middle of the area, still hitched to the badly damaged cart.

The mare was breathing heavily, had a long, bloody cut on her left flank, looked a bit wild-eyed, and her reins were being held by a man and a woman, both of whom were doing their best to calm her down with soothing talk and gentle stroking of her muzzle. Harold helped by tossing a Daze spell. The cart's cargo, a large load of hemp and kenaf stalks that they would find had been destined for a factory halfway to Provis that would turn them into rope and cloth, was scattered all over the place. Two four-horse carts loaded with crates of vegetables were in the process of being calmed down. The transportation business is inherently dangerous; Webber Transportation was as diligent as possible, as he had noted and approved, but accidents still happened from time to time, and this had been one of those times. Obviously, they were not at fault here.

"The cart driver is over here, Healer Harold," said Ted Webber as Harold advanced into the compound with his staff in his left hand and his odd blue eyes in constant motion looking for threats. The man had been dragged to a safe spot near the door that opened from the office into the yard with his head resting on a makeshift pillow made from a folded-up coat, and a man and a woman from the office were trying to give him a little water and wiping blood from his forehead with a cloth. He was groaning loudly and trying to move, but they were also holding his left shoulder and right hip to try to keep him still.

"What happened?" Harold asked as he summoned a Window as they hustled. Ted raised his eyebrows at this, as the complexity and precise movements and words required to cast it were done as if they were perfectly routine. Which they were, he added to himself with an internal eye-roll. The Goddess only knew how many times and under what circumstances he'd done it before.

"Hi, Healer Harold," said the man tending the driver, whom the Mage recognized as Hugh Carnel, one of the horse wranglers. "I was out here when he came in. He turned into the west driveway and his right wheel was badly wobbling and then it snapped off. He was thrown off and landed badly on his right shoulder and arm. I don't know how the horse was able to keep her feet instead of being thrown as well, but she did and bolted all the way down the yard."

"The left wheel and axle came off and crashed into the wagon over there," Jennifer Bland continued, "spooking its horses and they took off. Their drivers managed to hang on and get them under control again, but the horses on the other wagon also ran, and during the confusion as all three of them tried to avoid crashing into each other, his left leg got run over and he just barely missed getting his body stepped on as well. Probable broken collar bone and lower leg bones." The Webber staff were all familiar with the sort of injuries that happen in their line of work, most from personal experience. Harold tapped the man's temples with glowing forefingers and said "Dormi" and the man immediately stopped moving.

"Broken right clavicle, dislocated right shoulder, probably a cracked scapula as well," Harold said, changing the Window's focus to pass through the driver's body. "Fractured right humerus. Fractures of the right radius and ulna at the wrist." The man's wrist was already red and swollen. He said some more words while moving his hands and fingers in a corkscrew motion and a band of forest green and turquoise appeared from the base of his neck to under his armpit and back. "Simple breaks of left tibia and fibula," he continued, checking the left leg, whose booted foot was at an unpleasant angle. Another band was placed above the knee and he moved the focus to the man's head. "Concussion. Skull fracture above the right ear, probably from hitting a rock when he landed. Monitor for subdural hematoma." He looked up and saw Betty standing among the small crowd that had accumulated at a respectful distance around them.

"Please get the operating table out of the barn and get him onto it. And a volunteer should go to the hospital and get the ambulance cart. I'll tend to the horse in the meantime." The Daze spell had allowed the two people tending the horse to free her from the remains of the cart, which really shouldn't have broken apart like that he thought, and Harold, after introducing himself to the horse, Cleaned, Sterilized, and Healed the cut, then Cleaned the blood from where it had flowed.

He had requested that a table be built after having had to tend to a serious injury in early June while the patient had had to be left on the ground in the pouring rain until he got the Ward spell to protect them. It was seven feet by five, folded in the middle for storage in a specially-made burlap bag, and was made as light as possible for portability. Training and experience in handling traumatic injury had Jennifer and Hugh set up the table near the man, while four others carefully got the storage bag under him and lifted him onto the table, making sure that the table's pillow was supporting his head.

"Thanks for being the messenger again, Betty," said Ted with a smile, which she returned from the hastily-saddled Benny. "Since the hospital is next to the police station, you should also stop by and get someone out here to look at that damned cart." A bend of the river allowed for an extra street along it west of Main Street, on which the hospital was located, and she trotted out the west driveway and turned left. Jennifer and Hugh remained to help Harold pull the injured limbs so that the bones could be properly aligned for setting and fusing with the all-too-familiar "Os hoc reparare".

Everyone else focused on cleaning up the mess. Another two-wheeled cart of similar design to the wrecked one, which had a low-slung cargo deck two feet high under the area where the driver sits and a secondary storage area behind the driver, was removed from the barn and hitched to the horse.

"Here's his wallet," said Morgan Monroe, handing it to Ted.

"And here's the cargo manifest," said Agnes Tallman, who had extracted it from the storage area under the seat on which the driver sits. "That wagon is basically campfire firewood. The damned thing should have been broken up a long time ago! What kind of asshole would send out someone on a rig like this?" she demanded angrily, her expression making it clear that said asshole could expect her boot to impact his genitals with considerable force at least once. She was five-foot-six, had brown eyes that could, and had, stare horses and children into obedience, mostly gray hair that had been brown, thin lips on a small mouth, and a small, beaky nose. Her fit, trim figure didn't show that she'd had three kids, the eldest of whom was apprenticing here. "I'm glad Betty's getting the cops in on this. Criminal negligence would be the first place to start."

"The cops in Havisham need to know about, um," he looked at the manifest sheet, 'Speedy Delivery Corp'. I've never heard of them. Probably some fly-by-night scam operation," he said irritably.

"I wonder if Paul Meckler would have even seen any money from this," Morgan said, looking at a card from the man's wallet. "I hope that he can talk once Healer Harold has fixed him up." The ambulance cart came up to the west driveway at a brisk trot and turned in.

"Word has it that you have some business for us?" Charlotte Collins, the driver, drawled at Ted. She had a round, cheerful face, bright blue eyes that missed little, curly blonde hair, and a medium-sized mouth and lips under a medium-sized nose. Nate Sprague, her partner, was just as large as she was and surveyed the activity with his brown eyes. A wrecked cart, stalks of hemp and perhaps kenaf being cleaned up and put into another cart, and over by the office's side door was Healer Harold who was leaning against the wall looking exhausted. Their latest client was lying on a large table and stirring a bit.

"Where there's a Healer, there's business," said Nate dryly. "Only it's Harold this time, not Leila." They guided the white horse pulling the light four-wheeled white wagon with its large red crosses painted on both sides over to where the action was. "Hello, Healer Harold. Happy birthday."

"Is there anyone who doesn't know it's my birthday?" he complained with a weak grin, removing his broad-brimmed hat to scratch the top of his head where his hair was thinnest and plunking it back on.

"Marcie and her friends seemed very determined to tell anyone who would listen," said Charlotte as they guided the patient horse to turn the cart around. "What happened?" Jennifer and Hugh repeated their story as the medics got the stretcher out of the back of their wagon and set it up.

"Hey there, what's your name?" Harold asked the patient, who had regained consciousness. The man groaned quietly and appeared to be thinking about it.

"Paul Meckler," he finally replied in a gravelly voice. "Hey, I see people in white. You must be ambulance people." He smiled weakly. "I think that I got banged up somehow. Ouch."

"We're going to put you in the stretcher now," said Nate with a winning smile. "Healer Harold patched you up, but you had a nasty knock on the noggin and we have to take you to the hospital for a closer look to make sure that what you have isn't worse than a bad concussion."

"Can you sit up for us?" He shook his head weakly, then winced. "OK, we'll get you there." She put her hands under his armpits, making sure that his head rested on her chest, and Nate grabbed his feet and they managed to make the transfer smoothly. "Good job!" she praised as he was strapped in and the stretcher was transferred to the wagon and secured.

"Those rotten fucks!" Paul said angrily, startling them. "Even I knew that the cart was a piece of shit! Practically a suicide run on that thing! I'm glad that I made them give me a couple of Sovereigns before I even got on it!" He turned to look at Harold, who had gotten into the back and had seated himself on its floor before the medics raised the tailgate and bolted it closed. "I wouldn't have done it at all if I wasn't totally broke! Fucking taverns with their fucking booze! I'm done with it!" His part gray, part dark brown hair was medium-length and ragged, probably from a self-administered haircut, his bloodshot eyes were blue and darting wildly, his breath smelled strongly of something alcoholic and what Harold could see of his teeth indicated that he needed some one-on-one time with a dentist. He also had about three days of salt-and-pepper beard. Harold tapped his forehead with a mild Daze spell to calm him down as Ted reached up to hand Paul's wallet to Charlotte and Harold cast a thorough Clean spell on the patient.

"I'll go with them," Harold said to Ted. "I need to make sure there isn't any bleeding on his brain. That was a nasty whack that he got." Nate clucked his tongue at the horse, which responded by starting to move forward. Betty riding Benny and a uniformed police officer on a black horse trotted down the street and turned into the west driveway as the ambulance exited the east driveway. Harold waved at Betty and pointed to the medics and she nodded and waved back. He administered the Oral Clean to Paul, and it helped with the fumes. The ambulance made rapid progress because the other drivers willingly gave way when they saw it coming and even offered some well wishes for its occupants. Harold waved distractedly at those who offered birthday greetings, as he had maintained the Window spell and was now looking more closely at Paul's vital organs.

"This guy needs time in detox," he told them. "His liver is in bad shape."

"He probably has a story to tell, and not a happy one," said Charlotte, turning in her seat for a better look. "Alcoholism is so destructive." Harold and Nate both nodded.

"Are you a doctor?" Paul asked as they passed the Veterinary Clinic and Harold picked up Mark's signature and hoped that his time had been less interesting than his.

"I'm a Healer," he replied with a friendly smile. "I fixed up several broken bones. You had a very bad landing after the cart's wheel fell off and it threw you, and in the ensuing panic your leg got run over and that needed to be fixed too. When we get to the hospital, I am going to need something to eat, maybe half a cow, and about a quart of coffee." This got him a weak smile, but then he managed to focus on Harold's eyes and after a few moments, his brow furrowed.

"There's only one person I've ever met with eyes that colour. I was in school with him back in Palmyra. His sister died of leukemia, then his parents took off several months later and he lived with the town's Healer until he packed up and left one day a few years later. We never saw him again."

"That was me," he replied, utterly astonished. "Harold Moser. I went to the Magic School when I was fifteen, and had absolutely no interest in returning. I think that I even remember you. Vaguely."

"Palmyra? Where the hell is that?" Nate asked, looking over his shoulder.

"In the northern Eastlands," Harold replied absently. "Or the Eastern Northlands. It's a matter of some debate," he added dryly. "Its primary industry is producing rocks of various sizes for construction projects. Or was, unless things have changed?"

"I dunno. I left fifteen years ago because I was tired of it, and people were tired of me. I've been drifting around alternating between being a driver and a town drunk." He started coughing as the ambulance turned into the hospital's semicircular driveway, then continued straight instead of making the turn toward the main entrance. A classy sign marked "Emergency" was attached to a long, rectangular roof that sheltered the wide double doors that were the entrance. "I'm sick. I've been losing weight, can't eat right, and it's hurting right here." He tapped the area just above his stomach. Charlotte unbolted the tailgate and Harold got out rather stiffly, taking his staff and leaning on it as the medics got the stretcher out. A nurse, on door duty for the moment, opened the right door and let them in. A gurney was found and Paul was transferred onto it while Harold went to the triage nurse. The waiting area was empty, which was a surprise. Usually when he had a reason to stop by there would be a few people needing help.

"I'd say Happy Birthday, but you don't look like you're enjoying it much."

"I was at first, Belinda, until the emergency presented himself." He summarized the events and she shook her head sadly, pulled out a form, uncorked an ink pot, and began to fill it in.

"We'll put him in Observation to monitor his condition," she said when she finished a minute later.

"Put him in palliative care," Harold replied tiredly. She raised her eyebrows. He turned to address the patient, who had been wheeled up to the triage desk. "Paul, you have cancer, probably pancreas or liver in origin. I was checking you out as we were coming here. It's everywhere. Lungs, liver, which also has advanced cirrhosis, left kidney, and even a small one in your brain." He paused to rub his eyes. "It's advanced beyond the point where I can cure it. I've asked them to put you in palliative care. If there's anyone you want to write letters to, you should do it now while you still can." Paul nodded, looking resigned.

"I'm not surprised. I've been feeling sick for a while, and I honestly have nothing and nobody to live for anymore." The exterior door opened and Constable Brad Wheeler entered, looked around, saw them, and walked over. Paul rolled his eyes, sighed, and said, "Officer, I haven't done anything. I just got here." Brad smiled his non-threatening smile and shook his fair-haired head.

"I came here to find out about the people who gave you that rolling trash pile of a cart," he replied, his voice an even tenor. "We will send a report up to Havisham to have their cops look into them. You're probably not the only person to have had this happen to." An orderly came through the door that led into the hospital and conferred with the triage nurse. He was holding a tray, with two sandwiches and a large mug of coffee, that Harold removed from his grasp.

"I'll take you to your room and you can speak privately," the orderly said.

"I understand that he was severely injured," Brad said to Harold, who nodded, mouth too full of sandwich to talk. "Criminal negligence causing bodily harm will be just the beginning."

"Bust those assholes for me!" Paul said as forcefully as he could. "Healer Harold told me that my days are numbered and I won't live to see it happen," he added quietly. Brad glanced at Harold, who nodded, somehow looking glum while making the second sandwich disappear with remarkable speed. The three of them went through the door, which swung back and forth on its hinges until it came to rest.

"I have to go back to Webber's and wait for the afternoon stagecoach to come in," he said between swigs of the coffee, which was black the way he liked it. The hospital staff were well-acquainted with the needs of Healers and Belinda Morris had returned to the paperwork that Paul's arrival had generated. "Thank you very much for the food. I had to Heal a lot of broken bones in a short time." He Cleaned the mug and plate and left them on her desk, as there was nowhere else to put them. The waiting area was still empty. "I hope to not see you too soon."

"Same here, Healer Harold," she replied, exchanging the usual banter. "Good luck with the students, and I hope that the rest of the day goes better than this." He nodded.

"Me too." He left the Emergency room and started to walk back to the Veterinary Clinic. He paused on the sidewalk to look at the elegant three-storey gray stone building. "Complain about my birthday as I will, at least I get to have one." A memory of the Carcosan War Memorial with all the names on it came to his mind unbidden as he started walking, names of people whose birthdays would pass uncelebrated.

He didn't know what Marcie's motive was to spread the word, but he knew that worse things had happened to him over the years, and the fact that people were taking the time to wish him a happy birthday made him feel better. He had no regrets at all about introducing her and her class to the concept of hubris and smirked at the memory of their red faces. He was probably going to pay for it later somehow, just as Leila was probably going to make him pay for his breast massage orgasm.

When would be tonight after Marcie was asleep. How would be her on top riding his cock, sliding it almost all the way out and then all the way in to the hilt. It was their favourite position because her beautiful breasts would be dangling within reach for him to gently lick, suck, squeeze, and stroke while her hair made curtains that framed her face. If she needed her back worked on, she'd rest on her elbows with his cock all the way in and he'd reach around to do what was needed. It was always the same set of muscles in her lower back that got knotted up and he'd long ago learned how to relax them from this position. Either way, she'd soon be moving faster and he'd be thrusting to meet her halfway. He'd be sending little sparks into her clitoris and she'd be sending her sparks into his cock from her vagina until they could stand it no more and she'd be crushing him in her as he helplessly splashed cum off her cervix. She was right, they had been going at it like rabbits, practically every night, and he wondered what the hell the Chandlers were up to, having parties every night to take advantage of it.

As he walked past the police station, he spoke out loud, quoting from a book he'd read long ago for his Ethics class. "What is the difference between justice and revenge? Justice aims to right a wrong, while revenge is about 'getting even'." He sighed and shook his head. "Goddess, please give me some time to apologize before you kick my ass." A gentle breeze rustled through the tall, shady trees on the street, causing the patches of light and shade to shift on the road as he crossed to the north side of the street before reaching the hustle and bustle of Main Street. He wasn't sure if he felt a gentle caress from it, but then the wind tried to snatch his hat and he had to quickly grab it.

"Yes, Goddess, everyone needs a lesson in humility now and then. And maybe, just maybe, I should learn to ease up a bit." He had no way of knowing if this was the Goddess at work, but better safe than sorry. Tomorrow he would bring the students to the hospital to meet Paul and, with his permission, they'd peek inside with their Windows and see what cancer looked like. He'd also demonstrate how to burn it out. It wouldn't save him, because the damage was too extensive, but it would make his final days a bit more comfortable. Fucking cancer.

-=-=-=-=-=

Marcie's school let everyone out for lunch at 11:45 and she was home by noon. She was usually home a bit sooner, but had been talking with Kelly, Donna, and a couple of others about looking for the spelling books before they'd hastily broken it off. She let herself into the kitchen with her key and received rapturous greetings from Stormy and Daisy, to whom she felt obliged to give some attention. Of course, as soon as she made a move in the direction of their food dishes, there was a furry stampede and meows of Pending Starvation. "Furry piglets!" she scolded quietly because she could hear her Mama in the exam room with somebody which would prevent her from checking the shelves of books. She checked the icebox and there was a sandwich and an apple waiting for her. It wasn't safe to leave the sandwich on the counter because the furry little monsters would be after it as soon as Mama's back was turned. A small noon snack was authorized for the cats, so she got the box of kibble from the cupboard and gave them each a teaspoon, which silenced their noise for a few minutes so she could eat her lunch in peace.

Papa had made it quite clear that they'd crossed a line with their Words of the Day, but instead of yelling at them like some of their dads would, he'd turned it around on them and taught them something interesting in the process. She knew that an apology would be required. Maybe people just got more sensitive about their age as they got older, she mused as the last of her sandwich disappeared and the cats looked at her, disappointed at not getting any treats despite their snack. Then the exam room door opened and Mama and a woman she didn't know emerged and the cats trotted down the hallway to investigate. She sat at the table, which was out of sight of the hallway, until she heard the front door close.

"Are you there, Marcie?" Leila asked as she walked toward the kitchen.

"Hi, Mama," she replied, getting up and getting a much-needed hug. "Thank you for the sandwich."

"You're welcome, Marcie," her Mama replied, looking rather tired. "I've had a busy morning." She looked again. "Are you OK? You seem down."

"My friends and I wanted to have some fun with Papa on his birthday, so we wrote some words on the blackboard for Word of the Day and invited him into the classroom, but he turned it around on us." She explained the morning's events as Leila made herself a generously-filled ham sandwich, the same as she'd made for Marcie. "Now we need one of the dictionaries that links the old and new spelling for the Archaic Spelling Club," she concluded as Leila stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on her hips, shaking her head and smiling. "And we owe Papa an apology for disrespect," she added, looking downcast.

"That's OK, dear," she replied, giving her daughter another loving hug and then sitting at the table with her sandwich, an apple, and a glass of milk. "He loves you more than anything else and will forgive you. It was meant in fun and he actually taught you something in the process." She took a bite of her sandwich and thought as she chewed and swallowed. "Your Papa is one of those people who just doesn't like pranks, not as a giver and definitely not as a receiver. I don't think that he was all that happy with getting the robe and slippers, either, given how he was teasing me with them." Marcie giggled. "I think that I owe him an apology as well. I really should have remembered that, given how long I've known him," she sighed. Remembering how he'd been strutting around the backyard in the nightgown started to get her hot again, and she quickly changed the subject. What the hell is wrong with me?

"I got a dictionary as a textbook for the course that we actually have to take in third year," she said. "If we want to do research, we have to be able to read the old books. Some of them were reprinted in the new spelling, but those not deemed worthy of the cost and effort remain on library shelves gathering dust until an obscure reference gets a student to look inside. I believe that I kept my copy and it's in the exam room. Go have a look." Marcie ran down the hall, not drawing the attention of the cats, who were giving Leila the sad eyes (Stormy's green and Daisy's yellow), twining around her legs, and purring up a storm. "You two are impossible!" she complained, and with no witnesses around, she gave them each a small piece of ham and then ate the rest of her sandwich.

It only took Marcie five minutes to find the book, which was a thick, ten-by-seven-inch hardcover that had clearly seen a lot of use. She opened it in the first section, which was new spelling to old, and saw that 'ruf' had been spelled 'rough', flipped some pages and saw that 'goost' had been spelled 'ghost', and several other words that got her head spinning before she quickly closed it and ran back to the kitchen. "May I take this to school to show my friends?" she asked.

"Go ahead. I'm never going to look at it again. It might keep you guys out of mischief for a while. Oh, I also made some birthday cookies for your Papa. I'm trying to keep away from them so that there will be some left when he gets home." She opened a deep, square, metal tin, extracted two for Marcie and one for herself, then quickly closed it before the aroma got them both drooling.

"Oh, Mama," Marcie sighed rapturously as a large piece of one of them dissolved in her mouth. "Thank you! This is so good!" The clock chimed the half-hour, attracting their attention. "I have to get back to school," she said reluctantly, staring at the can and willing it to pop open and give her more cookies, to no avail. "See you when I get home!" She closed the kitchen door behind her and ran off down the path to the side gate, the book clutched in both hands.

"Oh, for that kind of energy," she grumbled, rubbing her eyes. "Time for more coffee." She had a few appointments left and filled the kettle with enough water to help her to deal with them.

-=-=-=-=-=

In contrast, Mark's morning had been far more routine. Several dogs and cats had come through for checkups. He had also participated in the neutering of a medium-sized dog by putting him to sleep, Numbing the hindquarters, Sterilizing the instruments and site of surgery, and with Dr. Stevens' supervision performing the procedure and Healing the result. The poor dog kept checking his hindquarters, wondering where his nuts had gone and making plaintive whines as he was taken out.

"Thank you as always for letting me learn here," he said to Virginia and Joe as he stood in the waiting room by the door holding a cloth bag with his empty sandwich box and coffee mug in it. "You can only learn so much in the classroom. In a day or two Dad will introduce you to the others and he'll set up a schedule of sorts with you and Webber's."

"That will be great," Joe replied with a smile. "I never saw us becoming a teaching clinic, but what good is knowledge if you can't pass it on?" He noticed Mark perk up a bit.

"Dad's coming." Harold walked past the window and entered the waiting room.

"What happened at Webber's that made you take off like that?" Virginia asked, looking with concern at his tired expression and body language.

"A poor fellow was driving a two-wheeled cart that really should have been broken up for firewood long ago." After he finished the explanation, he said, "I think that I need that last cupcake, if it's still around?" It was retrieved from the icebox, carefully unwrapped, and reverently eaten.

"Any need for my talents for the remainder of the day?" he asked. Joe and Julie shook their heads, grinning. "Not on account of my birthday?" he added sternly, and their gazes got shifty. "Uh-huh," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Well, thank you for that. I really should be haunting Webber's to wait for the coach with my students to arrive."

"So should I," Mark added. "Macy's is on the way, and I need lunch if I'm going to survive." With friendly smiles and waves, the Mages exited the clinic and stood on the sidewalk outside, waiting for an opportunity to scoot across Main Street. "I've often wondered if there are people whose job it is to just cruise up and down the street to make the place look busier than it actually is," he said, shaking his head. "A small town should be quiet and sleepy." They found their break and used it.

"The world doesn't end at the river," Harold replied as they turned north for the short distance to Macy's. "There are lots of farms between here and the ocean and they're all trying to get their stuff to markets somewhere." Most of the traffic was two or three people on large wagons full of crates of produce being pulled by four- or six-horse teams and they were headed north toward Havisham. Mark nodded thoughtfully as they entered the restaurant.

"They'll be glad when the paving project is done. Heck, everyone who travels that road will be glad." He had driven the Magic School's coach from The Capital to Magwitch in mid-May, having gotten experience beforehand in the countryside where Dana Magnussen, his mother and current Dean of Engineering at the Magic School, had been out supervising the teaching of the art and science of road building. He and his passengers had felt every bump and pothole despite the suspension system, but without it travel would have been very taxing to say the least. One thing he'd noticed during his work at Webber's was that every four-wheeled wagon had the same suspension and the two-wheelers had various variants. Then he blinked as the obvious struck him.

"Dad, the passenger drop-off is at the Dewdrop Inn, remember?" They had made it through the moderately busy and noisy restaurant to the cash counter, where take-out orders were placed and collected, with Harold acknowledging birthday wishes from most of the patrons with a resigned smile. Macy's did a brisk business with lunch sandwiches and the bakery sold them a lot of bread at a very reasonable price to supplement what they made for themselves. Mark ordered a coffee, a roast beef sandwich with mustard, lettuce, and tomatoes and with an apple on the side as his father blinked and rolled his eyes.

"I've already eaten, thanks," Harold said to the young woman behind the counter as Mark paid up, opened and handed over his sandwich box that he'd taken from his bag, and they moved to the side to wait for Mark's sandwich. The box was made from stamped sheet metal held together by a hinge that was a part of what his father had called a "mess kit" that he'd had to buy at the General Store soon after arriving because there were no take-out containers or cups offered at either Macy's or the Dewdrop Inn. It was one of several aspects of small-town life that he'd had to get used to. The apple had been removed from a basket behind the counter and handed to him upon payment. The whole area was awash in apples as it always was at this time of year and many people were working hard to make various preserves with them, including Stella's family, who all pitched in. The coffee had also been served promptly.

"Of course it is," he replied with an expressive eye-roll. "Webber's is the first place I think of because I go there practically every day." Mark smiled his thanks as his sandwich was delivered in its box and they left. "Seasonal traffic means that they'll have to do the dropping off behind the place instead of on the street in front. I hate the idea of loitering around and waiting, but I don't know what else to do." They continued to walk north, crossing Poppy Street, down which was Webber's, and up to the next block; across the street was the small oasis around the hotel. It was on the southbound side of the road, the logical location for travelers coming into town from Havisham. Coaches with people coming in from the east would come in on Mapleview and cross Main Street. After a pause, during which Mark lowered the level of coffee in his mug, they joined a few others and scurried across the street in a pack. They migrated to the corner of the Dewdrop Inn's verandah nearest to the street corner and occupied one of the small tables that were there for people to use for a while, even if they weren't patrons of the hotel.

"We'll be able to sense them from here," said Mark, opening his box, removing the sandwich, and taking a healthy bite. Harold nodded and smiled as a short-haired, brown tabby cat trotted up the three steps to the verandah and approached them, tail high. He (as was quickly determined) looked sleek and healthy and probably lived somewhere nearby and he absorbed the pets and scratches with loud purrs. Neither Mark nor Harold failed to notice how the cat was tracking the movement of his sandwich even as he was being attended to and they exchanged a grin. "I think that this fuzzball wants a handout."

"I always give them Worm Buster and a bonus Flea Buster," Harold said as Mark extracted the small piece of roast beef that remained from the sandwich, carefully cast Worm Buster on it, and put it down. Still purring, the cat quickly ate it, and when the last bit had been swallowed, Mark applied Flea Buster, which he'd been using on Peanut. The cat looked around, wondering what that weird feeling was on his skin, then his fur poofed and a few sparks shot out, leaving wispy smoke trails. The cat meowed loudly and tore off down the steps and vanished, leaving the humans chuckling. A minute later, they both perked up and looked north, seeing a stagecoach approaching through the traffic.

"There are only two Mages, and I recognize only one signature," said Mark, looking confused.

"I know them," Harold replied, looking surprised. "Let's go meet them." They decamped from the verandah, walked down the path to the sidewalk, and went around the corner as the coach and its four tired-looking horses turned onto Mapleview Street, made their way to the back of the building, and pulled into the entrance of the large parking and receiving area, finally coming to a stop. Six people emerged from the dusty brown coach, stretching and blinking in the sunlight. Two of the men turned to look at Harold and Mark and both smiled in greeting.

"Joe, Marshall, what brings you to town?" Harold asked, smiling back as they approached the visitors, who moved away from the coach, whose drivers were starting the process of unloading the baggage from the roof of the coach. Two other staff were approaching from the stable on the other side of the yard. Mark recognized Joe Galloway because he was the Dean of Veterinary Science and he offered Respectful Bow #1, and to be safe, he repeated the gesture to the other man.

"I'm Marshall Petch, Dean of Metallurgy, but mostly Music," the barrel-chested man, who was as tall as Mark and Harold, introduced himself, shaking a wide-eyed Mark's hand. "I came here partly to meet you and partly because I will be administering the Blacksmith Level One Exam to Stella Webber." This surprised them both.

"Really, sir?" Mark asked. "We were expecting the Guild Rep from Havisham! Stella wrote the book exam there two weeks ago and since our shop, uh, their shop," he amended rather sheepishly, "is due for its inspection, Ms. Munro had said that she could do both at the same time." There was a pause as two navy blue suitcases with the Mage School crest embroidered on them were handed down to their owners. "You knew, didn't you, Professor?" Mark directed a hard stare at his father, whose eyes got shifty.

"The topic may have come up when Leila and I were touring the School on the day after we arrived before we had to get on the coach to get home," he replied, scrutinizing his staff for imperfections and getting snickers from the visitors.

"The Dean of Metallurgy does have the authority to inspect and license smithies, and since Metal Magic talent is relatively rare amongst Mages, especially in combination with Healing, I thought I'd assess your abilities as well as your wife's."

"We should get ourselves checked in," said Joe, who was five-foot-eight, but with the farmer's body build of a Westlander. He had trimmed his bushy eyebrows and moustache that were mostly gray, and his gray eyes twinkled. "I couldn't let the opportunity to witness the opening of the Magwitch School pass without official representation. Besides, we both had unused vacation time that Sarah rather forcefully insisted that we take." Sarah Willoughby was the Headmaster, as Mark knew all too well, and hearing her name mentioned casually made him twitch a bit.

"I will go ahead to let everyone know that you're coming," he said. "But when will the others be coming?" Joe picked up his suitcase and replied,

"Their coach developed a broken spring that needed to be repaired in the yard in Havisham, and of course there was no spare coach. There's no way it would have survived the trip here on the part of the road that isn't paved yet. It will probably be another couple of hours before they can make it."

"Our place is about ten minutes down the road, on the other side from the School and a bit further down, sir," Mark said. "Stella has been getting ready for this for a while." With a Respectful Bow to each of the Deans, he hastily retreated to bring the news.

"I'll wait for you out front," said Harold, and they were there within fifteen minutes, each holding a lunch-sized pot pie that they'd gotten from the restaurant. They found him asleep in a chair with a brown tabby cat curled up on his lap, purring quietly. "Huh? Whaaa?" he said blearily as he was gently shaken back to consciousness. "It's been a long day, and it's only about half-past twelve," he griped, doing an involuntary Time Check. His yawn and stretch proved contagious. "I sat down in this comfy chair and the cat, which Mark had treated with Worm Buster and Flea Buster only a few minutes ago, came back and made himself at home. Next thing I know, you guys are here cruelly waking me up." With some difficulty, he got up and transferred the cat to the warm spot where he'd been sitting with only a mild protest.

"Cats are remarkable creatures," said Joe fondly as they walked to the sidewalk and turned right. "How are the two that you found doing?" Their lunches disappeared with remarkable speed.

"They think they own the house, of course," Harold replied, shaking his head ruefully. "They're growing like weeds and are constantly claiming that they're starving, though we've been giving them the correct amount of kibble. Furry little piglets!" They all chuckled as they crossed Rose Avenue, which was the name that Poppy Street assumed on this side. "Webber Transportation is down that way," he pointed. "The veterinary clinic is just ahead, strategically located across from the very pleasant Town Park." Joe and Marshall were looking around, taking it all in, and Harold could tell that they liked what they saw.

"I was scouting around some of the potential candidate towns outside The Capital," said Joe as they arrived at the veterinary clinic. "None of them has the vibe that Magwitch has. I've only been here a few minutes and I like it already." Marshall nodded as they went inside. It turned out that there were only some routine checkups going on, so Harold was able to introduce them to the staff and give them the quick guided tour before they were back on the street.

"Here's the bookstore," Harold said as they walked past it. "You can also get lots of books for cheap at the Swap Shop, which is well up the street."

"Oh, they have 'Black Flag in the Harbor'," said Joe. "It's apparently going into a third printing."

"It keeps you entertained for a while on long coach rides," said Harold blithely, attempting to walk past the display window. "It's well-written and keeps you turning the pages."

"It's the only story I've seen that features a Veterinary Healer with certain massage skills," said Marshall mildly as the door opened and two women, all too familiar to Harold, emerged into the sunlight.

"It's a testament to the creativity and originality of the author. Stella will be waiting for you, Marshall," Harold added pointedly, but he'd lost his audience.

"Who are these gentlemen that you're trying to get away from us, birthday boy?" Nellie Nix asked, hands on her nicely curved hips. Her left hand was holding a copy of 'Black Flag in the Harbor'. She was five-foot-nine, with bright blue eyes that missed little, a medium-sized nose over a Cupid's-bow mouth, half-blonde and half-gray hair to her shoulders, and the typical Westlander farmer's body build. Her sky-blue hat and matching light and dark blue outfit and handbag accentuated her figure, which included D-sized breasts with which Harold had no doubt Leila was very familiar. Myrtle Stanfield, her business partner, had a darker shade of skin because she was a Southlander, with their typical raven-black hair that was going gray. Her dark brown eyes over a sharp, pointed nose and wide, full-lipped mouth gave the strangers an appraising look. She was slenderer than Nellie, and this coupled with her elegant yellow blouse and slacks combination made her C-sized breasts appear larger.

"It isn't really my birthday," Harold tried to explain away, but of course they didn't believe him. "Marshall Petch, Dean of Metallurgy and Music, and Joe Galloway, Dean of Veterinary Sciences at the Magic School, these are Nellie Nix and Myrtle Stanfield, who seem to be taking a break from managing the Magwitch Therapeutic Massage Clinic." They all shook hands. "They're here to be on hand for the opening of the Magwitch School of Magical Veterinary Sciences later this afternoon, and Marshall will be administering Stella's Blacksmith Level One Practical Exam as soon as we can get him there." Myrtle rolled her eyes.

"If you haven't already noticed, Harold's hints are as subtle as a charging bull. Happy birthday anyway." It was Harold's turn to roll his eyes. "We have to get back to the Clinic, but we will see you later."

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Harold inquired, batting his eyelashes at them and getting The Stare from both of them that made all three men twitch. The two women turned and walked north with more sway to their attractively curved rumps than was required.

"Those two are a pair of sharks as nicely packaged as I've ever seen," said Marshall as they continued south, elevating an eyebrow at Harold, who nodded.

"They're the real deal as far as massage is concerned," the Healer replied. "The hospital and police station are down there," he added as an aside as they crossed South Street. "They're both properly accredited, charge reasonable rates, their place is very clean and pleasant, and they have plenty of positive testimonials." They crossed the bridge over the Magwitch River that offered relaxing views of the tree-lined river and sounds of the moving water. "And of course they offer a post-massage 'treatment' for a little extra." The visitors chuckled. "I know that they have been using my technique for making a woman orgasm by specific actions on her breasts, thanks to Leila, and I haven't seen a penny in royalties."

"Rumors have been circulating in certain quarters about that," Joe commented, "even as far as showing up in that book. It's been you all along who's been corrupting the country." Marshall snickered and Harold rolled his eyes.

"It's no secret that if you want to get laid, you have to give the ladies a reason to invite you into their beds, and that involves making them feel good. Massage is the way to go, for me at least, and over time I noticed that if I did things a certain way, they got hotter. It took a while, but I was able to refine the technique to where it is today. As far as I can tell, it's built into our nervous systems. Just why we'll never know, but it works and you can't argue with success."

"Would Nellie and Myrtle object to being our test subjects when you teach us this technique?" asked Joe innocently as they approached the driveway to the new School.

"Healers are known for their lechery," Marshall commented.

"I guess that he's not interested. We can go there while he's running the examination. I did promise Mae that I'd bring something back for her."

"Oh, I'll be there," Marshall replied as Joe smirked. "Ginny has been wanting to spice things up a little, and where better to learn than from the pros?"

"The Webber place is on the other side of the road, about five minutes from here," said Harold. "I'm sure they've swept all the dust under the carpet and are waiting for you."

"I'll be done in about an hour and a half, I expect," Marshall estimated. "The students should be here by then. The coach depot had the spare parts on hand and it's a straightforward repair." He managed to cross the road unscathed and continued walking south.

"We told the coach people to deliver them here, rather than the Dewdrop Inn," said Joe as they walked along the driveway toward the School. "It made sense. Nice sign, by the way."

"I was hoping for that," Harold replied as a playful breeze threatened to steal their hats. "It's a bit of a hike to get here from there, especially if you're burdened by suitcases and just off a long ride. All work was done by local people." The area between the building, whose exterior of gray local stone gave it an air of solidity and permanence, and the road had been heavily seeded with grass, save for a large flower bed that had been partly planted with a colourful mixture of annuals and perennials. "There are herb gardens in the back with all the necessities, and the barn over there is new and has room for six horses and/or cows. Webber's will give us a couple of horses who are ready to retire in the next day or two as 'teaching horses' and we'll keep them in the pasture that's behind it."

They walked through the graveled parking area and up the ramp to the porch and front door, which was solid oak with a two-foot-square stained-glass window that was set in the middle at their eye level. A pane of glass in front of it protected it from the elements. The stained glass had an abstract pattern of green, yellow, and white shapes formed around the letters "MSMVS" in an elegant script of red letters.

"This is lovely," Joe marveled. "A true work of art that will last forever." He was correct; the window is still there, even though the door has had to be replaced every so often, and never fails to draw admiring comments from those who see it for the first time. The door opened into a spacious mud room with three areas around the walls for coats to be hung, with the windows on either side of the door providing light. The two Mages removed their boots and placed them on one of the long grates that were under the coats that allow wet footwear to drip and dry. A picture window next to the door looked into an open office area that featured a large desk against the far wall that had been positioned so that its occupant would be able to see new arrivals. "Two doors because it gets cold here, I presume?" Harold nodded.

"Danica Gillis, this is Joe Galloway, Dean of the Veterinary Sciences program," Harold introduced after they had entered and walked the four paces. "She runs the place; we're just the help." This is an ancient joke that also happens to be true. She rose from her chair and offered Respectful Bow #1 to him, and he responded with Respectful Bow #2, and they shook hands. Danica was five-foot-nine with the usual farmer's body build that is so common in the Westlands and was dressed in standard business attire of a white blouse and a blazer and slacks in shades of brown. Her gray with hints of brown hair was cut short in a fashionable style and her warm, friendly brown eyes over a long, straight nose and medium-sized mouth surveyed their boss with interest.

"I'm here representing the School and the Department for the Grand Opening," he said, looking around the room. There were several large wood filing cabinets on the wall behind the desk and on the wall to their left. This wall continued with a large picture window whose sash was half open and its rose and green striped curtains moved with the afternoon breeze. The filing cabinets on the wall behind her desk ended at an elegantly carved door made from maple with walnut insets. It had a large, frosted glass window upon which the words "Harold Moser, Headmaster" had been carefully stenciled in letters that somehow looked friendly and welcoming. It also had a large brass doorknob.

"Welcome, Dean Galloway," she responded in a clear alto. "I had a feeling that the School would send someone. Do you know when the students will get here?"

"There was a delay caused by a broken spring on their coach," he replied. "It should be less than two hours by now. A colleague, Marshall Petch, who's Dean of Music and Metallurgy, accompanied me to administer Stella's Blacksmith Level 1 practicum and also to check out Mark and his unusual metal ability. He's probably doing that now."

"How about I/Harold give you the guided tour?" Harold and Danica said simultaneously, exchanging a look. "Great minds think alike?" he added with a grin. She smiled back.

"It looks like you two have a connection already. Let's go have a look around. We can start with that office of yours."

"They even saw fit to include a small washroom to give me one less reason to try to leave it," he half-complained as they walked to the door and opened it.

-=-=-=-=-=

Marshall walked in his typically relaxed yet ground-eating pace along the side of the road and it only took a couple of minutes for him to pick up Mark's Mage signature. As he approached the driveway, he saw five people waiting for him. The tall young woman around whose waist Mark had put his arm must be Stella Webber and the others were probably her family.

"Dean Petch, welcome to the Turner/Webber home," said the tall, bearded older man, and if he wasn't a smith he'd eat his hat. "I'm Sam Turner, farrier and part-time smith and, until recently, owner of the Turner Veterinary Clinic."

"I'm Marjorie Turner, blacksmith," the somewhat shorter and equally solidly-built gray-haired woman beside him said, offering him Polite Bow #2.

"I'm Caroline Webber, blacksmith," said the middle-aged woman who was five-foot-ten, had half-brown, half-gray hair cut short like Marjorie's, and certainly had the smith's physique.

"And I'm Stella Webber, smith-in-training," said the woman he was testing, standing tall and looking him straight in the eyes with her dark brown ones, offering Respectful Bow #1. "Thank you for taking the time to come all the way here. Our smithy is this way, if you please." Mark quickly recovered from a surprised expression and they began walking up the graveled drive that was lined with tall, shady trees on both sides, through which the breeze rustled most peacefully.

"It was a long trip, but I'm glad to have made it," Marshall replied in his sonorous bass, causing Marjorie's eyebrows to rise.

"If you didn't have to leave so soon, the Town Choir would make you an offer that you couldn't refuse," she said with a smile in her clear contralto voice. "We could use another bass in our group."

"I take it that Healer Harold is not in the Town Choir?" he replied, his blue eyes twinkling. Marjorie shuddered and Caroline snickered.

"He sneaked into a Choir meeting and sang 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' at us," she growled. "I have never heard such a simple song get butchered so horribly!"

"I was there, and totally agree," said Sam, shaking his head.

"Back in June, he sneaked onto the gazebo stage and did a silly comedy act that employed his ability to make musical instruments make bizarre noises."

"You were laughing just as hard as everyone else, Mom," said Caroline as they passed between the house and the barn, with the smithy in their sights. "I have to say that everyone felt a lot better when we went home that night." They all nodded.

"The more I hear about my Dad, the more I realize that I am proud to be his son," said Mark. "Whether this feeling changes when he starts marking my work remains to be seen," he concluded dryly, getting laughs from the others and a smile from his beloved as he felt her relax a bit.

"If you don't mind, I'll have a look around to justify my title as Inspector," said Marshall genially and they waved him in. The forge had been banked, as was proper when they were out of it for any length of time. The place was spotless, as one would expect when there was a Mage with the Clean spell handy, but he suspected that it was naturally this way. All of the equipment showed signs of extensive use but was still in excellent shape. Stuff in the drawers and storage bins was well-organized. The forge itself was in good shape, though it looked like it was due for repairs soon. "It looks great," he said, sticking his head out the door ten minutes later.

"We've got some parts on order for the forge, Dean Petch," said Stella as they walked into the smithy that had been part of the life of the family for generations and would continue to be for generations to come. "It still works fine, or we wouldn't use it." Marshall nodded, expecting no less.

"The test is for you to make a bad horseshoe, Stella." Her eyes went wide and the family exchanged puzzled looks. Marshall grinned at the response. "I have no doubt that you can make an excellent shoe and have been for years, which is what makes this test far more challenging. What I'll be looking for is the subtle mistakes that a person new to the forge would make, ones that might not stand out to a person who isn't a smith, but which would make the shoe little better than scrap metal. You have to overcome all your training and create an excellent example of bad craftsmanship." The room was quiet as Stella tried to remember all the mistakes that she'd made as she was learning the process. Choosing the wrong metal to start. Not heating it or cooling it properly. Hitting it wrong so that the thing was not quite the same thickness throughout. Making it with a slight warp so that it wouldn't be flat. Not punching the holes properly.

"I will create a failure to make you proud," she finally replied, and they all chuckled. She opened a drawer that was divided into three compartments, each one holding several standard lengths of metal bars, a different size per compartment. "I can't start with a crappy piece of metal because they're all good quality stock," she commented, taking a medium-sized piece and closing the drawer. "So, we can't blame the material, only the blacksmith." She got the forge going and the metal bar heating, then set to the task of creating a subtly bad horseshoe while trying to ignore her audience, especially the Dean. Marshall was impressed both by Stella's skill and by how her family was standing quietly, but radiating a quiet pride in their daughter, granddaughter, and wife. She ended it about twenty minutes later by dipping the finished product in the quenching barrel slowly instead of dunking it. She dried it on a handy towel.

"Here it is, Dean Petch," she said rather shyly, handing it to him. He put it on the table that was next to the door and sure enough it was slightly warped and the turned-up parts at the ends were different lengths. She'd managed to make one of the nail holes a bit too large so that the head of the nail would pass through instead of coming to rest on the metal to hold the shoe to the hoof. It was so close that he had to get a nail and test it just to be sure. Looking at it edgewise he could see that it was uneven, and the curved part had been hammered around the horn when it wasn't hot enough. And she'd even misspelled her name, with which most smiths marked their horseshoes, as 'Webebr'. Nice touch, he thought.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to keep this," he finally said. "And use it to test my students to see how many of the problems they can find with it. You have passed with flying colours, Stella Webber." There was a collective sigh of relief and Stella's eyes shone like stars as she embraced her family members and accepted their congratulations.

"I'll close it up for the day," Sam said, "so you can go outside and cool off." They gratefully did so, as even with a window on each wall opened wide the room had gotten quite warm.

"As for you, Mark, I'm curious about what you've managed to learn on your own," said Marshall.

"Well, sir," Mark, who had known that the attention would be on him at some point, replied, "I have a good grip on the Polish spell. I needed it to put the finishing touches on our wedding rings." He removed his and handed it to the Dean, who gave it an appraising look, nodded, and gave it back.

"Very well done." He pulled a doubloon from a pocket and handed it to him. "Let's see how you do it." Mark placed the coin on the flagstone in front of the door and summoned his Magic, causing the others to feel something shifting that they couldn't put a finger on. He carefully wove a pattern of mostly Fire and Earth over the coin and set it spinning as it moved onto its target, which glowed briefly.

"It's still a bit hot to handle," he said, Reaching for it, lifting it off the ground, and moving it in front of Marshall, who Reached for it in turn and gave both sides a good look.

"Damn, it looks like it just came from the Mint," he said, surprised. "You didn't even wear away the engraving on it." Mark tried to look nonchalant to hide the effort that it had taken to not just do the Polish, but to Reach for and handle it that way. Because of its conductive properties, anything involving metal required extra exertion.

"I can also fuse pieces of wire, which is about as large as I can handle," he added, "and I've tried a few other spells with varying degrees of success, and taken a couple of trips to my Dad or Healer Leila for the lesser degrees of success," he added dryly. "I have had more success handling metal the manual way, thanks to my excellent teachers."

"My husband claims that we've taken him to the Dark Side, from which there's no hope of escape," Caroline snorted. Marshall snickered.

"You'd be surprised how often I hear that. I will talk to Dean Galloway and, with the Headmaster's permission of course, we will rearrange your course schedule for next year's Winter Semester to get you into the Introduction to Metallurgic Magic course, since you'll be back in The Capital by then. You can keep working on the self-study program as the self-study course that you all have to do on top of the mountain of work you'll be getting from your in-class and practical courses here."

"You don't have to chuckle so evilly, Dean Petch," scolded Marjorie with a twinkle in her eyes, wagging an index finger at him. Mark made the expressive moan of overworked students everywhere and twitched, both of which may or may not have been genuine. "Despite that, would you like some coffee? We've reached the Afternoon Doldrums." The time had somehow made it to two o'clock and they were all feeling the need. He wasn't sure when the students' coach would show up, so he said,

"Why don't we go over to the Magic School? There's going to be a reception and there's bound to be coffee handy. Mark can be our tour guide. You have been inside already, I presume?"

"Yes, sir," he replied with a smile. "There are even flush toilets there."

"Practical, and considerate for the city folks." The smithy and house were locked up and they made a leisurely pilgrimage to the Magic School, enjoying the lovely afternoon.

"We couldn't have asked for a better day for this momentous occasion," said Sam. "This is one of the best times of the year." Marshall nodded. He definitely saw the appeal.

"Winters here suck big time, so we enjoy the Fall as much as we can," added Caroline.

"They're not much fun in The Capital either," Mark noted. "Trying to figure out where to put all the snow when we get a big storm or two can be challenging."

"Your Dad has said that he'd gotten around on skis in the winter, and that early Spring when snow is melting, water is everywhere, and the roads are mostly compacted mud is the worst time to be traveling." They all nodded grimly. "Paving Main Street will be the best thing that's happened here for years."

"Hi, Brenda. Hi Fred!" said Marjorie as a two-wheel, one-horse buggy driven by Fred Jaggers overtook them. "You're coming for the party?"

"As Mayor and First Cow of Magwitch, it is my duty and honour to be here to witness the opening of the Magic School. I'm not late, am I?" The sounds of a fussing baby were coming from the cargo area behind them; baby Samuel had been born on Harold and Leila's wedding day in mid-May. "He just had to choose now to get hungry." Brenda had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes, an average-sized nose and a wide, friendly smile and was a popular Mayor. Her husband Fred was a large, amiable farmer and their farm was just south of the MSMVS property.

"There's no stagecoach in the parking area, so I think we've beaten them," said Marshall. "I'm Marshall Petch, Dean of Metallurgy and Music at the Magic school," he introduced himself as they walked next to the buggy down the driveway that was paved with flagstones toward the building. "My colleague Joe Galloway is the Dean of Veterinary Sciences and is here, oh, there he is now." The front door had opened and Joe and Harold stepped through, each holding a mug. "I promised these good people some coffee," Marshall called out as they quickly approached. "I hope that there's some to share."

"There's an industrial-sized pot for making hot water on a dedicated stove," Harold replied and the newcomers all perked up. "Danica even ordered a box of coffee powder from Mel's. It will be just like home away from home." Mel's was one of many coffee shops that were located in the area around the Magic School and the Main Military Barracks (which was really the administrative centre of The Kingdom's Armed Forces and no longer a barracks, but retained the name) that was just across The Capital's Central Park from the Magic School. Each shop had a slightly different blend and each had its proponents, but Mel's was preferred by most because it was the closest, though not by much. The Mage School's Cafeteria had coffee that was perfectly acceptable, of course, but it was "ordinary".

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Brenda said after Fred had parked the cart off to the side of the parking area and they had disembarked, shaking the visiting Mages' hands. Fred followed suit, holding the baby's bassinet in his large left hand.

"My office will give you privacy," said Harold as they all trooped up the front steps and into the mud room, where shoes and boots were removed.

"Happy Birthday, Healer Harold," Marjorie said, and the others echoed.

"For a few happy moments, I had forgotten," he moaned melodramatically, holding his back and making crackly noises as he slowly stood up from untying his shoes and getting unsympathetic snickers.

"Hi, Brenda. Hi, Fred," Danica greeted them after they'd entered the reception area. They looked around and clearly liked what they saw. Harold walked to his office door and opened it, inviting them and the noisy baby inside. "Feel free to use the washroom if you need to," he added as he closed the door, dramatically reducing the decibel level.

"I'm not sure if I should be worried about the level of soundproofing," said Mark mock-fearfully, tugging at his collar and making his eyes dart around nervously, getting some chuckles.

"It's apparently a similar construction to the door of the Dean of Discipline's office," Joe observed.

"Not that you have spent any time in that office, right sweetheart?" Stella said with only a hint of steel in her voice. He turned a little red and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"My involvement with all the plants appearing in the Office was minimal," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably under the combined stares of his wife and her family, and his father's amused look. "All of the bedding annuals had been delivered, ready for planting in the gardens, but there was a frost warning because of an unexpected cold snap," he explained. "We didn't want all of the money that the School had spent to be so tragically wasted, so we felt it necessary to rescue them from what would have been a killing frost that night." Stella could not refrain from giggling at his virtuous, innocent expression.

"The Office staff came in that morning to find every available horizontal surface covered in tarps and about fifty flats of various annuals on them," said Joe good-naturedly as the others snickered. "The whole area was so full of pollen that it took a couple of hours of open windows on an admittedly frosty morning, plus everyone casting Freshen Air spells between sneezes, to make it possible to have the flowers removed. The tarps to keep things clean were a nice touch."

"I had a look at the locking doorknob after things had settled down," Marshall rumbled, "and I was able to detect traces of the Open Lock spell, as well as an overly worn and faulty mechanism that would have presented little resistance to it. The knob was replaced and an additional, much more secure, deadbolt lock was added to the door. We were never able to determine the culprit who opened the lock and nobody squealed, but given your new-found talent, I'm beginning to get an idea."

"I was the only one who was able to make the spell work," Mark finally admitted, unable to escape the scrutiny. "But we all made sure that everything was easy to clean up."

"If anything like that were to happen here," Harold mused as they all migrated down the long hallway toward the back where the kitchen and the promise of coffee were, "the culprits would be planting the flowers that they worked so selflessly and diligently to protect." The hallway was on the north side of the building, was painted a pleasant shade of pastel green, and had a window at either end, both of which were open a bit for fresh air. About halfway down, it made a jog to the left in front of one of the two washrooms to make room for the stairs going up. A door going outside was behind the stairs, and under them were the stairs to the basement. They paused to peek into the classroom and the laboratory on the way. They both had south-facing windows, of course, and were bright and inviting.

"That is what happened," Mark sighed as Stella gave him a comforting squeeze. "The Head Gardener is as heartless a taskmaster as any of the Professors." He rubbed his lower back melodramatically. "And we never found out how you found out it was us," he added with a scowl.

"One of our spells is See Auras," Joe explained to the non-Mages as they entered the kitchen. As with all farm houses, the kitchen was the largest room and the focal point. "With a bit of training, you can tell if someone is lying by looking at how their aura shifts. The Warriors also have an Investigative Branch. For such an impromptu prank, it was very well managed and not done by the usual suspects, so it took them a while to ferret out the guilty parties. Just how is Top Secret," he added. A small stove was on the south side of the room, upon which was a pot that held at least a gallon of water that was hot enough for coffee. Mugs were extracted from a cupboard for the newcomers and a dipper was employed to transfer water to them, to which a heaping teaspoon of Mel's Finest was added and stirred.

"Rumor has it that mysterious pilfering from the kitchen after hours stopped after Harold graduated," Marshall added. Harold made a dismissive gesture with his left hand as he sipped some coffee. His staff was leaning against the wall, which made this possible.

"Lots of others graduated with me. One or more of them could have been doing it." He was pretty sure that he hadn't been the only 'food liberator' operating, but he seemed to have uncanny luck when it came time to ease the lock open and sneak in because there were never any guards there when he was. The skill he'd developed with Open Lock had been very useful on several occasions for both getting into places where he wasn't supposed to be and getting out of places where he'd been put. The kitchen was well away from the residential part of the former royal palace, so if there was a Mage lurking in the darkness, he would have been able to sense him or her, and vice versa.

Even the occasional dirty trick in having a non-Mage guard waiting to bust the miscreants had never happened to him; instead, he had eventually been busted by none other than the Dean of Discipline himself, who had expressed some admiration at his sneaking skills while handing down the punishment of having to manually wash (no Clean spells) all of the dishes that the kitchen generated during a day. Which was a lot. And the kitchen staff had all too gleefully made sure that he didn't slack off or sneak away. However, the reward waiting for him when he had returned with his loot on the more successful runs was Dana, Sarah, or sometimes someone else, and their hot, wet kisses, groping hands, breasts that needed to be licked and stroked, and pussies that needed to be eaten and fucked until both participants had been ruined. It had been well worth the risk.

"Excuse me," Danica's voice called down from the front room, "I think that our guests are here." The kitchen's clock, placed on a shelf on the wall over the eight-seat table on the east side of the room, chimed quarter past two. Harold's attempt to casually sidle toward the back door that was on the west wall and led to a generously-sized deck was abruptly arrested by the large, strong left hands of Marshall and Sam, one for each shoulder.

"The front door is that way, Dad," Mark sighed and Stella giggled as the reluctant Professor was propelled down the hall, coffee mug in his right hand and his hastily-Reached for staff in his left. All the others left their mugs on the counter by the sink that was to the left of the small stove.

"We could have reached the front from the back, eventually," he complained good-naturedly as they breezed through the waiting room, for lack of a better word, to the mud room where footwear was hastily donned. "Leila is with them," he continued, surprised, as he picked up her signature. Brenda and Fred were also there and gratefully received mugs of coffee that Caroline and Stella had brought them. Within a minute they had all poured out the front door and down the stairs, making a crowd of eleven that included Danica and her mug that she'd had at her desk. It also included Tasha Montrose, intrepid reporter for the Magwitch Weekly Times, whose excellent sense of timing had brought her here only two minutes ago. Her pencil and notepad were deployed, ready to record the coming events. By this time, Leila had dismounted from her position between the driver and her assistant, both of whom had already loosened the cargo net that kept the luggage on the top of the coach and were handing down large navy-blue suitcases with the crest of the Magic School embroidered on them, two per passenger. Tags tied to the handles identified the owners.

"Good afternoon, folks. I am Brenda Jaggers, the Mayor of Magwitch, and I'm here to welcome you to our town and to the official opening of the Magwitch School of Magical Veterinary Sciences." The students and even the coach crew gave her some mild applause. "I'm sure that the traffic was slow enough for you to get a good look at what our Main Street has to offer," she continued dryly, getting tired nods and smiles from the students. "It's a small town, way smaller than what you're accustomed to in The Capital, but I'm confident that you'll adjust quickly and discover why Magwitch is such a special place."

"Since it's Friday," Fred added, "we'll be having the Friday Night Get-Together in the Town Park. Members of the Band and the Choir, including Marjorie there," he paused and she waved at them, "will be in the gazebo providing music for dancing and entertainment and we'd be pleased to see you there."

"Healer Harold, or I suppose he's Professor Moser now," said Marjorie, "will NOT be there singing with us." Harold protested half-heartedly and got some laughs.

"Mary had a little... oof!" Leila's warning tap with her elbow to his solar plexus abruptly halted his unwanted serenade, but it was still enough to make people wince and twitch.

"Thank you very much for your welcome, Mayor Jaggers," Steven Petersson, a tall, solidly-built Northlander with curly blond hair and blue eyes replied and they all made Respectful Bow #2. "We will be there tonight, and for all other Friday nights, weather and insanity permitting." The laughter of the students, including Mark, was a bit strained.

"I'm Danica Gillis," Danica introduced herself, stepping forward. "I'm the office manager, whose job it is to keep the place running smoothly." They offered her Respectful Bow #2 as well. "When the cake arrives from Cartwright's, we'll have the little reception in the kitchen. There are four bedrooms upstairs, each with two beds and ample closet space."

"We should get going," said Sam. "One of the first things that you'll learn about Magwitch is why Cartwright's Bakery is known as The Destroyer of Diets."

"Guys, this is Stella Webber, who granted me the wish to be my wife on the Solstice," said Mark and they all shook her hand and offered their congratulations.

"When is the baby due? The Spring Equinox?" asked Maria Valladosa. She was the daughter of the Carcosan Ambassadors and had the olive complexion, long black hair that was in some disorder because of the trip, and brown eyes that you see in a Carcosan. The eyes and their power to demand obedience from unruly animals and men were all too familiar to Harold, several pairs of which had looked down on him as their owners had ridden his cock while their breasts and hard, dark brown nipples swayed within range of his licking tongue and stroking fingers. Stella blushed and nodded.

"You were never one to waste time, were you, Mark?" Josh Pinkerton snickered. He was as tall as him, with brown hair and eyes. "Just like with the flowers in the office," he continued, ignoring Mark's attempt to shush him.

"The Deans are here," he said, pointing them out, as they were lurking closer to the steps.

"We heard that!" said Joe, "but of course we already knew it was you lot. Why do you think you found yourselves out here?" Marshall maintained a straight face.

"This doesn't strike me as a punishment," said Jill Haverstock, who was five-foot-nine with gray eyes and blond hair that framed a pleasant face. "Despite the hassle getting here, I'm already glad that I'm here. It's so quiet!" And it was, with only the sounds of a twittering bird, the breeze in the trees, and faint traffic noise from the road to tease their ears. Sam, Marjorie, Caroline, and Stella waved goodbye and walked back up the driveway to the road. "Let's get our stuff inside."

"What's with the ramp?" asked Alan Frost. "Are you expecting students who need wheelchairs, Professor Moser?" He was five-foot-ten, had straight black hair halfway to his shoulders, and brown eyes that seemed to take in everything at a glance.

"It could be future students, it could be visitors who need medical assistance," he replied as they walked to and up it to the small porch that spread on both sides of the front door. Two medium-sized windows were on either side of it to allow light into the mud room. "You'll note the paved walk that connects the driveway to the ramp that will help us to not track mud into the building, as well as to allow access for anyone. Mobility is something that we take for granted and we don't realize how many barriers there are until it becomes limited."

"When the Main Street is paved, there will be marked crossings that will have dips in the curb that will work just as well for baby strollers as they do for wheelchairs," said Leila. "Why is there a cloth over the window in the door?"

"This is the opening ceremony," said Danica. "Professor Moser, if you'd take the right side, and Mayor Jaggers, the left side?" She had covered the stained-glass window with a custom-made cloth, held to the door with a pushpin in each corner. This had caught both Harold and Brenda by surprise, but they moved into position. "Now, for the unveiling. Please remove the upper pins." They did, allowing the cloth to fall and reveal what it had hidden. Leila, who hadn't seen the window before, and the students all gasped in amazement.

"It's beautiful," said Jennifer Caldwell, who had curly auburn hair, sky-blue eyes, a slightly turned-up nose, and freckles. "This is just the sort of thing to look at when you're feeling stressed out. I expect to be looking at this a lot," she added dryly, getting some nervous chuckles from the other students.

"The name of the artist who designed and made this is Krista McAuliffe," said Harold as the other two pins were removed by Marshall and Joe, the door was opened, and everyone entered the mud room, which was large enough to hold them all with some crowding. When the door was closed, they saw a metal plate under the window, with the artist's name, the date the window had been completed, and the words "Dedicated to Steven McAuliffe, the love of my life". This same plate is still there today. Once they were in the waiting room, Leila said,

"She had just found out that she'd lost her husband Steven when his ship, the Challenger, was lost at sea in a bad storm. She had come to me for help in coping and as we were talking, she mentioned that she did stained-glass work as a hobby and was thinking about trying to sell some commercially. Harold had mentioned a few days earlier that a stained-glass window would be nice to have somewhere in the School and I suggested that she think about it to help keep her mind off her loss."

"We are incorporating the design as the School's logo," said Danica, "for which she will get annual royalties. Now go upstairs and get settled. If the cake gets here before you do, these oversized locusts will not leave you so much as a crumb." The six students hastily lugged their heavy suitcases up the stairs to get their first look at their new accommodations and Mark went with them.

"This place has class," said Tasha as they stood in the waiting room. "What I have seen is so bright and welcoming. The details like the crown molding are very tasteful. The architects should be proud of themselves for what they have done." She scribbled notes in her notebook as a heavy thud followed by a burst of laughter came from upstairs.

"This will be a great learning environment," Joe agreed, looking up and wondering what they were up to already. The front door opened and they saw through the mud room door that someone had come in holding a large box. Leila was nearest to the door and opened it, inviting the woman in to hand it over.

"Thank you very much!" she whispered. "Let's take this to the kitchen and keep it for ourselves." Danica handed the driver three doubloons for her trouble, as the cake had already been paid for, and keeping with the stealthy spirit, left quietly as the others tiptoed down the hall.

"It's gotten awfully quiet down there all of a sudden," Josh's disembodied voice said. "I think that the cake is here."

"No, it isn't!" Harold replied loudly. "We're just enjoying some quiet moments of meditation! Stay upstairs and do your own meditation!"

"This is a Cartwright cake! Trust no one!" said Mark. "You will see why!" Seven pairs of feet thundered down the stairs as the rightfully suspicious students charged and invaded the kitchen, where the box had been placed on the table.

"That nonsense doesn't work on Marcie, so why should it work on them?" Leila sighed. "Harold and Joe, would you like the honour of revealing the cake?"

"I hope that they're this attentive in your classes," Marshall drawled, getting some chuckles. The lid was lifted off, revealing white frosting with elegant red piping and detail work on the edges and "Magwitch welcomes you to the new MSMVS!" in green written on it. The large room was crowded with the seven students, Harold, Leila, Joe, Marshall, Brenda, Fred, Tasha, and Danica.

"It's a good thing that it's large," said Jennifer, "or we'd get nothing more than a few crumbs." Danica expertly cut it into sixteen pieces, serving each person with a piece on a napkin and leaving the last one in the box.

"Here's to the inception of the Magwitch School of Magical Veterinary Sciences," Harold said, after realizing that people were waiting for him to say something. "And to the health and success of all those who pass through it. Cheers!" The next few minutes were spent trying to make their pieces of cake last as long as possible, which wasn't very long.

"Trust no one," said Maria in her Carcosan accent as the last crumb was sadly consumed. "But whom do we trust with that last piece?"

"There's a man named Paul Meckler lying in a hospital bed, dying of advanced cancer," Harold replied somberly. "I think that he should have it." After he'd explained the circumstances of their meeting, including the strange coincidence that he was from his hometown, the decision was unanimous. A small box was found and the cake and a small wooden disposable fork were put into it. "I will ask the hospital folks to let me know when he dies, and I'll take you all there so you can see what cancer looks like," he addressed the students, who nodded sadly. "In the meantime, you all should finish settling in. The bank is just up the street on the other side and you should probably go there first to get accounts set up. I'll catch up to you tonight at the party in the Town Park."

"I'll go with you, Healer Harold, if you don't mind," said Tasha as the students offered Respectful Bow #2 to the Mayor and the Deans and left the kitchen to go upstairs and finish unpacking. "I'm sensing a human-interest story."

"We'll go back home," said Brenda, "and also get ready for the party. Maternity leave or no, it really isn't working to be there to kick it off. Thanks for letting us borrow your office, Healer Harold. The creature will sleep for a while longer, I hope. Really, Fred?" she demanded, catching her husband in the act of eating the very few crumbs left from the cake box.

"It would be rude of me to leave crumbs for Danica to clean up," he replied with a twinkle in his eyes. "Thank you for your work in getting this together," he added to Danica with a polite bow that was returned. They all returned to the front room.

"I'll be back on Monday morning at nine o'clock for the first class," Harold called up the stairs, getting the expected moans and groans. "The textbooks are all in the classroom for you to peruse at your leisure, which may be the last leisure you will have for a while." The moans and whines were louder this time, and they all snickered. "Ms. Gillis will show you around the kitchen so that you can make yourselves dinner if you want it tonight, unless you want to check out Macy's or, for those with lots of Sovereigns weighing down your pockets, the Dewdrop Inn."

"See you later, Professor, uh, Dad," said Mark rather pointedly from the head of the stairs.

"Yeah, that's going to be a bit awkward at first," said Joe as Harold waved and turned away so he could get his shoes on with the others. Moments later they were outside, with Harold holding his staff in his left hand and a cloth bag with the box and its precious contents in his right. He and Tasha led the way down the driveway as Brenda, Fred, the baby and the baby gear were loaded in their buggy.

"Leila, we encountered two ladies named Nellie and Myrtle, if memory serves me," said Marshall. "Harold said that they might be interested in helping us to learn the infamous breast massage technique that is slowly corrupting the nation."

"It looks like Harold will be unable to teach us, so we were wondering if you had the time to spare." Leila gave them a knowing grin.

"I blocked off the mid-afternoon so that I could be here," she replied. "I sensed their coach going by our house, which is right on Main Street, and it was slow enough that I was able to catch up to them and hitch a ride. Damn, I wish that there was a better way for people to get their stuff to market." They nodded. The road congestion was as bad as any they'd experienced in The Capital and was no doubt made worse by the road work. "I'll show you the manual way, and also where and when to put in a few sparks of Magic for the Mage's Enhancement."

"That's the evilest chuckle I have heard for a while," Marshall snickered. They'd allowed Harold and Tasha, who'd been conversing quietly, to get well ahead of them so that by the time they'd crossed the bridge the other two were at the intersection of South Street.

"I'll be home for dinner," Harold called out to Leila. "I'll bring some sausage from Mulgrew's."

"That's probably not the only sausage he'll be bringing home," said Joe blandly. Leila gave him The Stare, but he only twitched slightly. Harold and Tasha started walking toward the hospital while they continued north. The Magwitch Therapeutic Massage Clinic was on Mapleview at the southwest corner of the first street west of Main. It was a large, three-storey brick house that had had the ground floor, save for the kitchen, converted into the business area, while the Nix family lived in the upper floors. They were in no hurry and Leila could see them looking around with interest on Main Street, but also this leafy side street with its nice houses and well-manicured lawns and gardens once they'd passed the Dewdrop Inn.

"Do they know that you're coming?" she asked.

"One of them said 'See you later', so they may be," said Marshall, "though they may be expecting Harold rather than you as our escort." They went up the three steps to the verandah and obeyed the tasteful sign that said "Come on in." On the left was a doorless closet for outerwear, into which they put their shoes. Straight ahead was a wall with an attractive painting on it and a small table in front of it with a vase holding late-season flowers. A waiting room that had started as a parlor was on their right. It had six comfortable chairs lined up on the outside wall that faced the street whose window was open for fresh air to enter and circulate. The whole area was painted a pleasant warm yellow.

The door on the far side of the room opened and Myrtle stepped through it. She'd changed into her working wear, which was a professional white blouse and slacks that were loose-fitting to allow easy movement, and comfortable white shoes.

"Oh, hello," she said, clearly surprised at their appearance. "I wasn't sure if you'd respond to our 'See you later' offer," she said. "And Healer Harold is...?"

"He had to go to the hospital to tend to someone, so I deputized myself," Leila smirked. "These gentlemen have expressed an interest in learning the technique that I showed you a few months ago and I need volunteers for them to work on." The men saw the women look at each other and seem to subtly communicate in the mysterious way that women do, and Myrtle nodded.

"We have a spot available in our schedule. I'll get Nellie." As it happened, Nellie was right there and moved through the door to stand next to her business partner.

"I was wondering when we'd have to pay the price for this technique," she said, hands on her hips.

"Nothing is truly free, and as strong followers of this advice, you should know," Leila replied dryly, earning eye-rolls from them. The men carefully retained neutral expressions, recognizing that the women knew each other very well.

"Very well," said Myrtle. "We don't usually allow total strangers to put their hands on us, but we will trust Leila's judgement. I think that Room 2 will be large enough for all of us." Passing through the door, they had to turn left to go down a short passage, where they turned right onto what had been the main hallway of the building when it was still a house. To their left were stairs going up and ahead was the way to the rear that ended in a closed door marked 'Staff Only'. Room 2 was the first door on the right, and had probably been the main living room of the dwelling. The wall facing them had a partly open window framed by curtains that had an attractive pattern of shades of green. The massage table was aligned with the long axis of the room, right to left, and had space all around it so that the masseur could have easy access to any part of the client. The whole room had a very clean and professional look to it that both men, long used to inspecting things, approved of immediately.

"This will be worth your while," Leila assured them as the door was closed. "I'll be teaching the Mage's Variation." Nellie and Myrtle exchanged a glance and Myrtle began unbuttoning her blouse. "The technique works even when the subject is dressed, as Harold has demonstrated on me many times," she said flatly, "but like with all tactile treatments, it is most effective without clothing." It wasn't long before Myrtle was naked and lying on the massage table with the dark brown nipples on her C-sized breasts hard and pointed at the ceiling in anticipation. Joe was the first student. "You start with your hands here and here and your fingers arranged just so." The sequence that Joe was led through was very familiar to the two masseurs, who had practiced and perfected it extensively on each other, leaving them utterly ruined in the process, but despite this familiarity Myrtle could feel her body responding to it.

"The Mage's Version has you introducing a," and Leila said something technical that the masseurs didn't understand, but the two men clearly did, "here, like this." Her brown eyes widened as she felt something cool tickle her in an underappreciated part of her under-breast and she moaned as a small orgasm went through her. Joe, Marshall, and especially Nellie's eyes widened at the reaction, but Leila kept on with the rest of it, which included two more sparks in different places that provoked louder moans. "With a properly timed rub of her clitoris, it's finished, and so is she," she added with an evil grin. Joe performed the actions and Myrtle's whole body shook and she moaned loudly. His middle finger had slipped into her vagina after stroking her clitoris in the way that Mae liked and it was squeezed very hard.

"Let's see if I got this right," Joe said after Myrtle's breathing had returned to close to normal. "If you want me to, Myrtle," he said with genuine concern. "You look like you're going to expire!"

"The Mage's Version is even more devastating than the regular version," she replied. "Perhaps just practicing the regular one?" Joe nodded and smiled reassuringly.

"I can even wait for my session while Leila leads Marshall through his introduction, if that would help." Her eyes widened in surprise as he offered his hand and helped her to sit up.

"A true gentleman. I never knew such a person existed!" He guided her to a chair at the other end of the room. When they all turned, they saw that Nellie was already naked and lying on the table. Her brown nipples were as hard as they'd ever been. As Leila started guiding Marshall through the moves, Myrtle couldn't miss the mauve and tan glowing bulge in Joe's pants that was at face level. Joe, who was watching the action on the table, turned around in surprise when he felt her strong hands swiftly unbuttoning his pants. "Shh," she whispered, an impish expression on her face, as the thick, almost seven-inch cock was freed from its confinement. "A gentleman deserves a reward." Her whisper was drowned out by Nellie's throaty moan as she came for the first time. Nellie kept moaning, which disguised Joe's barely stifled moans and grunts as she gobbled his cock, bobbed her head so that it slipped in and out of her mouth while she also licked and swirled her tongue around it and especially its sensitive tip.

"Do you know what will happen if you make me come?" he moaned as he desperately tried to keep from coming.

"Before Harold came to stay for good, Leila would come here every so often and always wanted the Happy Ending," she whispered back, her brown eyes locked on his gray eyes. "Can you make yourself taste like strawberries?" He nodded, collected his wits as best as he could, said some words and made some small gestures. It didn't take much for her to bring him over the edge and she swallow his cum as fast as he squirted it into her greedy mouth, just as Nellie's orgasmic shout echoed through the room. There was a pause as Myrtle sucked the last of Joe's cum from his rapidly deflating cock.

"Myrtle, what did you do?" Nellie demanded blearily, staring at the ceiling as her brain tried to reassert control over her body.

"Oh, nothing," she replied innocently. She quickly laid herself on the floor. "Practice on me now. They're going to be busy." He was familiar with massage, though most of his work was on Mae, who always expressed her appreciation by pushing him on his back, mounting him, sinking his cock all the way in, and riding him until they were just about to come, then falling on him and invading his mouth with her tongue. His cock would then be clamped and would hose her insides. These moves were not too difficult to remember, but in a very odd sequence. How the hell Moser had managed to figure them out was beyond him, but he knew that Mae was really going to love it. Knowing her, she'd want to learn and try it on her friends, and the corruption would spread. There would be no complaints, of course. None at all.

"If we wait a few minutes, the need will pass and we can continue," said Marshall, poker-faced. "Shall I continue?" He reached down and put his hands in the starting position.

"Not with this in my face!" she retorted, batting the bulge in his pants that was glowing red and blue. "What is in here, I wonder?" She rolled over onto her right side to deploy both hands in the task of unbuttoning and yanking down his pants and underwear, revealing almost eight inches of hardness.

"It will go away on its own," he protested unconvincingly as she scooted her ass to the end of the massage table and opened her legs. Myrtle was moaning softly as Joe was working on her, which was only inflaming her need.

"It will go away much faster and more satisfactorily if it is stuffed where it belongs," she replied forcefully. "Now!" She looked at Leila, who was rather red-faced. "You should sit on my face so I can eat you. You look like you're going to explode!"

"Harold did wicked things to me this morning that I was never able to resolve," she replied, hastily removing her slacks and wet underwear and scrambling to get into the very familiar position, facing away from Marshall. "OH!" both women moaned as Nellie's tongue thrust into her swollen pussy and Marshall's cock pushed its way into Nellie's pussy in one gentle thrust. "Myrtle, you are an evil bitch! I couldn't be prouder of you!" she moaned between slurps.

"I think you're ready," Myrtle whispered, eyes glazed, grabbing Joe's glowing, rehardened cock. He had successfully gone through the technique, leaving very little of her higher brain functions. "Please give me my Happy Ending." Men and women routinely joked about the tiny brain that cocks seemed to have that focused on getting one thing, but women's pussies also have that little brain and hers had taken over. "I don't need any contraceptive tea, in case you were wondering."

"I never say no to a lady," he responded, getting into position and pushing in all the way to the hilt. "I'll have to tell Mae all the details," he added as they bucked and thrusted, adding shaky moans to the noise coming from the other end of the room. "What are you going to tell your husband?"

"I'm going to say that I seduced a Mage, unghh, and got Nellie good and fucked because of it," she moaned breathlessly. Everyone in the room managed to come at nearly the same time and collapsed. Leila nearly fell off the massage table and found herself on the floor staring vacantly at the ceiling. Fortunately, because of the time of day, not many people were at home as the triple-powered orgasm wave tore through the area, but those who were soon found themselves fucking their partners or using their hands to relieve the unexpected, desperate need.

"When we're at the next Chandler party, I'm going to make sure that your Joy Buzzer is stuffed up your ass while my husband fucks you senseless!" Nellie growled from her position half draped over the massage table, fluids leaking from her wonderfully abused pussy. "What are you doing, Marshall?"

"I never got my practice session," he replied, Cleaning himself and then her and the table, getting a squeal of surprise as the spell did it's work all too efficiently. He pulled up and buttoned up his pants, then places his hands in the starting position. "If you're OK with it," he added.

"Yes, I need another one," she moaned again, pushing herself into the proper location on the table. He was able to remember the procedure correctly and after her final orgasm, her brain shut down and she fell asleep. By this time the others had been Cleaned and gotten dressed.

"Is there a sheet and a pillow we can give her?" Marshall asked. There were, and soon Nellie was comfortably resting.

"What was that about a Chandler party?" Leila demanded of Myrtle, who wouldn't meet her steely gaze. "Chandler, as in our neighbours who've been having regular sex parties by taking advantage of my and Harold's orgasm waves?" Myrtle unexpectedly giggled as they left the room, leaving the door open a bit so that the breeze from the window could give it some much-needed ventilation.

"Their brand of loving lust feels so wonderful when it washes over us," she explained to the visitors as they made their way to the front of the house. "It's like a warm breeze in a summer forest, or like coming into a warm kitchen from a cold day outside. They are really in love and we can feel it." They were at the door now and she opened it for them. "I need a nap myself before our next appointment. Thank you very much for coming, um, visiting." They all smiled at that and were soon on the sidewalk.

"I will head to my hotel room for a rest," Joe said as they walked back toward Main Street. "People of my advanced age really shouldn't be exerting ourselves so much."

"So will I," Marshall added. "Magwitch's welcoming committee is very friendly, but very tiring. I have a feeling that Ginny's response to what I learned will be much the same." And it was, leaving them both happily ruined on their bed. When she'd demanded how he'd learned, he described in detail how soft and firm Nellie's breasts and how hard her nipples had been, how her body had responded to his touch, and how hot and wet her pussy had been when he'd stroked her clitoris just the way you like it, how it had been just like your pussy is now. At this point, Ginny had pulled him up to expose the rejuvenated erection that he'd been hiding and demanded that it be stuffed into her, which he did, and they didn't wake up until the morning.

"Harold's promise to buy sausage for dinner notwithstanding, I have to get something for dinner," said Leila a little fuzzily as she waved goodbye and turned north. Nellie had eaten her pussy just the way she liked it, and it had made a huge difference in her comfort level, but she knew that only Harold's cock could finally put out her fire. Especially since he'd started it, prancing around in that nightgown. He would be wearing it and nothing else while she was giving him his birthday fuck. Maybe one of the chicken pot pies from Mulgrew's would do the trick. She didn't feel like making anything tonight. She managed to cast Check Time and found to her surprise that it was quarter-past four. "I wonder if Marcie is home?"

She didn't have a shopping bag on her, so she had to carry the pie home after shamelessly devouring the personal-sized pie that John Mulgrew had offered after getting one look at her. She was feeling noticeably better by the time she'd gotten home, where to her surprise she saw a young woman waiting for her on the steps to her front door.

"Healer Leila! I'm so glad to see you!" Melanie Watt said excitedly, jumping up. She was tall at five-foot-ten, with a relatively ordinary oval face that was enlivened by bright blue eyes, long brown hair, C-sized breasts and curves in all the right places. She was wearing a modest outfit with a light blue blouse and darker blue slacks, as she was a clerk in the bank. "I'm pretty sure that I'm pregnant!" Leila's elegant coppery eyebrows elevated in surprise, as Melanie and her husband Stanley had been trying for months with no success, and Leila's examinations of her with the Window hadn't been able to figure out why. Stanley's sperm count, as determined by a test at the hospital in which Melanie had been very helpful in getting him to produce the sample, had been normal.

"Really? That's great news! Do you want me to have a look?" she asked as she unlocked the door. "I hope that you weren't waiting too long. I wanted to be at the opening of the Veterinary school with Harold." They entered the house, she closed the door, and they removed their shoes. "Go into the exam room and I'll put this in the ice box." There was no sign of Marcie; she was probably looking at the dictionary with her Anarchic Spelling Club or whatever they were calling it.

"We have been invited to some of your neighbours', um, parties," she said, turning pink as Leila summoned the Window and she laid herself on the exam couch. "Stanley and I figured that if we were having trouble conceiving, we might as well try to spice things up."

"You wouldn't have found out about these parties through Nellie or Myrtle, by chance?" She tapped and zoomed on her window. "Yes, it looks like an embryo in there, maybe a month and a half."

"Yes, the topic came up when he was getting his back straightened out after pulling a muscle heaving some stone around." Stanley did landscape work and had even done some for the School grounds. "We didn't know what to expect, but everyone was nice and respectful and... uninhibited." She was blushing even redder. "The orgasm wave that started it all felt so warm and loving. We just closed our eyes and held each other while it washed over us. Then we felt the effects starting. He was so hard and felt so good in me and everyone else was making love." Her eyes were shining. "Other nights there was more lust and we went at it like rabbits. I think that I got pregnant on the fourth night. Thank you, Healer Leila, and your husband for sharing your love with us. I don't think I'd have gotten pregnant without it." Leila found herself receiving a teary hug as she let the Window spell lapse.

"You're, um, welcome," she replied, not knowing what to say, patting her on the back. "We've known what's been going on for a while. Not that we've peeked," she added hastily as Melanie blushed again, "but we have ears. We've had sex outside a few times not too far from the fence, just to be naughty and hear how people would react. But it never occurred to me that exposure to orgasm waves could help with fertility problems." She looked thoughtful as they walked to the front door. "Do me a favour, would you?" Melanie nodded rather apprehensively. "Don't worry, nothing to do with you. I'd like you to ask some of the people, or even Nellie and Myrtle, to find others with trouble conceiving to come to the parties. I'm most interested in men with low sperm counts, if they could get tested after a few times to see if it improves them. This could be a big breakthrough on the heels of the use of Erotic Energy in spells." Melanie all but floated out the door, which Leila closed. "I'd better get the stove heating up." She was sure that the two masseurs would be able to find and recruit some willing experimental subjects.

-=-=-=-=-=

"Healer Harold, we were hoping that you would come back." Jack Roberts was one of the surgeons who worked in the hospital and was in the Emergency Room when Harold and Tasha came in. A man and a five- or six-year-old girl were sitting on two of the chairs and Jack was looking at a nasty cut on the girl's left calf. Her shoe and sock were bloody and a bloody improvised bandage was on the floor.

"I'll take care of this, if you don't mind." The girl was trying to be brave, but was pale and had obviously been crying. Jack and the man nodded and he knelt for a better look. Tasha had turned rather pale and sat down hard on another chair, not looking at them. It only took five minutes for him to apply Numb and Tourniquet to the leg, Sterilize and Heal the wound, which was followed up by Cleaning the bloody mess so that she was as good as new while introducing himself and learning her name.

"Thank you very much, Healer Harold," the girl piped, carefully executing Polite Bow #1, while her father shook his hand and expressed his thanks.

"The best way to thank me is to go and do something good for somebody, Jenny," Harold replied with a smile. "It takes a good deed and stretches it a little further. Can you do that?" Her eyes got a faraway look, then she nodded.

"Mom wants the house to be cleaned up. I will put away my toys and clean my room for her."

"Maybe I should do a little housecleaning too," said her father. "We'll give her a nice surprise when she comes home from work. I can even get dinner started, since I took time off to bring you here."

"That's a nice thing for you to do," said Tasha, making some notes in her book now that the blood was gone. "Do you always do that?" He nodded, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"It was drummed into us in Mage School, or at least into the Healers," he replied, bringing himself back to the present. "The good deed has circled around to me more than once, always in an unexpected way." He paused, reflecting. "I was just remembering how I fixed up a girl's stuffed bunny when I was at a traveling fair in the Svend area a few years ago. She'd won it at the fair two years previously, just after her older brother had died from a brain cancer. I wonder what she's doing now."

"Speaking of cancer, that fellow that was brought in was asking for you," said Jack. "It looks like he's dying on us. The trauma that his body experienced when he was thrown from the cart must have shaken something loose." Harold nodded sadly.

"He wasn't in good shape to begin with. I had a feeling that I would be needed here. Please take us to him." The doctor was five-foot-ten, had a shiny domed head, friendly brown eyes and a pleasant expression and demeanor that people found easy to get along with. He led them through the door into the hospital and straight ahead down a corridor that ran to the other side of the building. On the right side there were doors with windows in them that looked into patient rooms, each with a window looking outside onto a peaceful view of a belt of grass and then the wooded area on both sides of the river. On the left side were various laboratory, examination, and storage rooms. Near the end was a nursing station where a man and a woman in white uniforms sat doing paperwork, and they both looked up. They were Nate and Charlotte, the ambulance cart drivers.

"Hi, Dr. Roberts, Healer Harold. Hi, Tasha," said Nate, who knew Tasha because she occasionally followed stories on "significant injuries", ones that happened in public that drew attention from the way that they'd occurred. At least half were related to horses. They knew of her squeamishness and did what they could to shield her from the worst. "Dr. Roberts told you that Paul Meckler has been asking for you?" Harold nodded. Jack bade them farewell and walked back down the hall.

"He was also asking for this, for some reason," said Charlotte, handing him a well-worn copy of 'Goodnight Moon', which he put into the bag that was holding the box with the piece of cake in it. "He's in the room over there." Her finger pointed toward a door just across the hallway from the station. Harold and Tasha thanked them with a polite bow from each, went to the door, opened it and went in, leaving it ajar. He pulled up a chair and sat by the side of the bed while Tasha sat in the other chair closer to the window, which was open and whose green and blue curtains were drawn.

"Hi, Paul. I came back to check on you," he said, touching his forehead and finding it much warmer than it should be. Someone had shaved him and brushed his hair so that he looked presentable, but he looked sicker than he had when Harold had last seen him. "How are you feeling?"

"My head and stomach hurt a bit, Dad, but the Healer really helped me. Did you find the book?"

"You mean this one?" Harold asked, exchanging a quick glance with Tasha before returning his focus to Paul. He held up Goodnight Moon and Paul nodded and smiled. "I also brought you a piece of cake from a little party we came from. Would you like it?" He removed the box from the bag and opened it. The piece had an M on the frosting. The patient's face lit up with a big smile as he took the fork.

"This is so good! Thank you! This is the best birthday cake ever!" The piece disappeared in record time. There were no crumbs, much to Harold and Tasha's disappointment.

"I guess that means that you don't need Goodnight Moon," Harold said nonchalantly. "You could probably read it to me with your eyes closed."

"Please read it again, Dad. One last time, and no tricks!" He scowled and Harold looked innocent.

"So, it's not the grape green room?" Paul shook his head. "No three little pears sitting on stairs?" He pouted as Paul shook his head again. "OK, one last time. On my honour, no tricks." He shifted the chair so that he was sitting next to Paul's head and facing Tasha so that Paul could see the pictures. "In the great green room, there was a xylophone and a red spittoon, and..." He pointed to a picture on the wall over the fireplace of the room, turned the page, and continued, "the cow jumping over the moon."

Even though it had been years since Marcie had demanded that he read it to her at bedtime, he could still recite it from memory. So could she and she had always firmly corrected him when he made a "mistake". He adjusted his baritone voice to make it more mellow and sleep-inducing. As the story progressed, he remembered a March night when Marcie had been five. It had rained on and off all day as he'd slogged down the road from Provis through mud and melting snow, finally having to put on the skis that he used to travel on the snow just to make any headway at all. It had been bleak, gray, and wet, but at the same time the air had held the smell of the promise of Spring, and here and there he'd seen green shoots peeking through the soil.

After Marcie's enthusiastic welcome and Leila's warm embrace and even warmer kiss that had promised much more to come, they'd had dinner and talked, played a couple of games, prepared her for bed and finally gotten her into it. He remembered sitting next to her and reading to her by Mage Light, while Leila leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, smiling lovingly at them, with Marcie snug and safe in her bed as her eyes, a blue very similar to his odd shade of blue, slowly closed. After they'd kissed her forehead goodnight, Leila had taken his hand and led him to her bedroom, where they had lovingly undressed each other, and gotten into her bed. Within moments his cock had been sunk to the hilt inside her and they'd gently caressed and kissed each other as another burst of rain had drummed on the roof. As it always did, the gentle thrusts and bucks had intensified until they'd ended with her muffling a scream with a pillow as she'd locked him in place and his balls had emptied themselves inside her.

Tasha remembered, pencil held over her notebook, times when her father or mother had read Goodnight Moon to her, while her mother or father had read another story to her brother in his room. Summer days that had been spent running all over town with her friends, Autumn days that had been full of brisk air and crisp apples and brilliantly-coloured trees, Spring days that had been full of flowers and green, Winter days of cold and snow, all had ended with her snug and safe and loved in her bed. Simpler times, happier times, that she had enjoyed and still missed, and as her reporting work had shown, had not been had by all.

"Goodnight noises everywhere," Harold finally finished, having taken his time with the story. Paul's eyes had closed and he was breathing evenly, almost asleep.

"Thanks for coming home, Dad," said Paul, almost inaudibly. "We missed you." The book slid from Harold's fingers onto the bed, landing with the pages of the panoramic view of the bedroom and 'Goodnight to the old lady whispering hush' showing. Tasha's head was bowed in sleep, her notebook on her lap and handbag by her chair, and as the pencil slid from senseless fingers to the floor to hit with a small sound, the curtains suddenly billowed out from the window as Paul's breathing slowed and finally stopped.

"What? Where am I?" Paul asked, looking around the room. He saw himself in the mirror that was on the wall next to the bed, and he looked young and fit again before time and alcohol had started to take their toll. He saw Tasha asleep in her chair and Healer Harold in his, and he saw his body, lying unnaturally still in the bed beside him. He saw Healer Harold standing by the door, his figure outlined faintly in forest green and turquoise, with Tasha next to him and her figure outlined in rose and silver.

"Hi, Paul," Harold replied. "Your body has ceased functioning and you are waiting for the Door to open to welcome you to the afterlife."

"But why are we here too?" Tasha asked, walking the three steps to where her body was on the chair. "I'm sleeping, not dead, and so are you, Healer Harold."

"I think that we are to be witnesses," Harold replied. "I've died before, but the Receptionist said that it wasn't my time yet and sent me back." They were both surprised by this.

"Thank you, Healer Harold," said Paul. "I haven't had the best life. I've made some bad decisions, had others do bad things to me, and sometimes done bad things back to them. But I've also had people do good things for me as well, often for no reason other than because they were decent and saw someone in need, and those people are what kept me going for as long as I did. What happens next?"

"This," was the reply. A door slowly faded into existence against the outside wall next to the window. Its most prominent feature was a stained-glass window in its top, whose pattern rapidly coalesced. There was a golden glow around the edges, through the keyhole, and through the window.

"That's a beautiful window," Paul said, eyes wide. "What is MSMVS?"

"That's the front door of the Magwitch School of Magical Veterinary Sciences," said Tasha. She should have been floored, but for some reason was not. "We just came from the official opening. But why would this be for you?" The door opened inward and golden light spilled into the room.

"Goodbye, Paul. Best wishes for the other side." Harold shook his hand, then Tasha did.

"Goodnight, room," Paul replied. He turned, squared his shoulders, and stepped over the threshold. The door quietly closed behind him and faded away.

"I think that the door was a message to me from the Goddess," Harold replied as they looked around the room. "A little heavy-handed on the symbolism," he added dryly. "Oh, it looks like you're pregnant. Congratulations." He pointed at her abdomen. She moved to stand in front of the mirror and saw a marble-sized light glowing in it. A gust of wind blew through the window, making the curtains billow inward. This time the door slammed shut and they startled awake.

"Did I just dream that?" Tasha asked. Harold yawned and stretched, causing her to do the same.

"No, that was real. That appears to be what happens when we die." He stood up, picked up the book from the bed where it had fallen and took his staff from where he'd leaned it against the wall. He also put the box and fork into the bag and took it. "We'd better tell Nate and Charlotte. They're probably waiting for us." She put her notebook and pencil back into her handbag and opened the door. "And you are pregnant. I've seen that signature before in spirits of the living. You'd better get ready." 'What the hell did he mean by that?' she wondered.

"We've been trying, and I know that I didn't get my period this month, but I was afraid to hope," she said as they walked to the nursing station.

"He's gone?" Charlotte asked quietly. Harold nodded and handed her the book. "He died peacefully in his sleep in a town far from home in the presence of someone who had known him in his childhood. Let me know when it's time to bury him. I'll cover whatever costs are incurred."

"I will contribute as well," said Tasha firmly. "A sad and lonely soul has come to rest and moved on. It's the least that we can do."

"It's compassion that makes a true Healer," said Nate quietly, wiping his eyes. "I for one am glad that you have come to stay. Let's get a gurney, Charlotte." The Healer and the reporter waited for them to wheel the gurney out of the room with Paul's body under a white sheet and walked with them to the door of the Morgue. Harold stood at attention and saluted in the military's way, with his right fist over his heart, knuckles up, as they pushed the swinging door open with the gurney and went inside.

"Let's go, Tasha," Harold said quietly. "I have to go home. I have some apologies to make and a birthday to celebrate."

-=-=-=-=-=

To be continued...