Free The Wheelwright's Apprentice by James Burnett Page B

kitchen. These things were readily to hand, as it was a teashop. He dipped the cloth in the water, and slowly washed the gash. He then stroked the cloth up the length of the gash, which was four or more inches long, and said, “All done, you’re fine now.” Her calf was smooth, and there was no sign that there had ever been a gash.
    He wanted to get away, as he had no intention of being bombarded with silly requests and questions, but now that they knew that he was Willed, he knew it would be impossible. He hadn’t realized that many of the people in the shop, including a lot of their new companions, had gathered around to watch.
    Amia grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards his seat enthusiastically, while she asked, “So you’re the new healer, the one who blew up the jottin seller’s cart. That’s amazing! What else can you do?”
    Art had not really wanted to do more than tiptoe around the edges of this group. He definitely did not want to use his Will any more. He was ther K. Ht ree to find things out, not to be found himself and made into an impromptu entertainer. Amia however had different ideas. For her, the excitement of being close to someone who could do exceptional things, things that brought a bit of life into her somewhat dull existence, made her act a bit out of character.
    “Oh, come on Art,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him, “Show us something interesting, we know you can.” She smiled widely and hopefully.
    Art addressed the whole group and said, “Regardless of what you think, it is not easy to use the Will. Most of my experience using it has been as a healer in the Temple. Two months ago I didn’t even know the Will existed. There is not all that much I can use it for.” This little tirade had the effect of calming them down, and when another girl asked him a question about the Count, he was happy to tell them about some of his experiences.
    When he had finished a story about the Count, Amia started on him again. She wheedled, “Oh please come on. We have so little that is interesting happen around here.” It wasn’t only her. A lot of the others wanted a show too, but they were just not quite as forward as Amia. It was enough for them to occasionally echo her sentiments.
    Art again repeated, a little more sternly than before, “I’m sorry please don’t ask me again. This is only my second day off in over a month!”
    Amia subsided for a while, but when it came down to it, she would not leave well enough alone. She whined until Art had had it. He told Amia somewhat gruffly, “Alright, you want a show, then I’ll give you one. Get some of the boys to push a table up against the wall.” With the furniture soon rearranged, Art clambered onto the table and removed his jerkin. He then sat down with his back against the wall and told the assembly, “Please give me a bit of time. I have to work a couple of preliminary spells. You won’t see anything happen though.”
    He had thought at first to use Amia as his subject, but he was not that cruel, and he wasn’t sure he could keep her controlled if she threw a fit. The moment arrived, and he was ready. He called out, “Could someone get me a knife.” A knife was quickly brought by the eager audience. It was blunt, but for Art it was ideal, it was just a prop anyway. “Watch closely, and you might learn a bit!”
    Art held the knife and dragged it over his torso three times, once up and down and twice side to side. After this was done he dropped the knife and started pulling his chest apart, opening it up as if he was a corpse on the slab. One of his preparatory spells had been to remove the pain, another was to minimize bleeding and blood loss. He started by talking about his heart, as they could all see it beating away. He then pointed out veins and arteries, showed how they went into the lungs and showed how his liver nestled neatly in its cavity. He kept up a continuous running commentary all the time. He had to keep his