Chapter 123: Leto. Physician, my ass.

The path was nothing but a narrow trail after three days, the fields having long since been replaced by a few scattered pines, the air carrying just a hint of metallic smell from the presence of a river nearby. Felix walked with his hands buried deep in his pocket, occasionally glancing at Dune, a train of thought running in his head since their departure from Fillipo.

Leto. Physician, my ass.

He did not think the man to be a bad one, no. There was never a hint of cruelty or scheming on the part of the stranger during all that time. In fact, that was the very thing which made him suspicious. Just too warm. Just too easy to find. And just too eager to know the needs of Dune, without any of them asking first. Two nights with a passing physician should have left not much more than some seal which is easily recognized by someone who'd certainly seen his fair share of Numen creations.

Felix pushed a stray stone away from the path, noting its scurry into the undergrowth. There was always some trace left behind for someone of such ability; friends in his family, old tutors, trainees. Something, always.

"We're almost there," Dune whispered, lifting her head slightly. "I can smell the water."

"It should be just around that ridge," Felix noted, accelerating down the path as his boots crushed through dry pine needles. "It might be worth a look, whether anything's there or not."

"You don't believe that he told us the truth."

"I don't," Felix replied softly, eyes on the ridge ahead. "I'd feel a hell of a lot better knowing one way or the other."

They were in Darnay soon, a small village tucked into a curve in the river, drying racks hanging with fish in practically every garden, the entire village reeking of salt and wood smoke. A handful of children ran around the huts, chasing each other, shoeless and laughing loudly as a bark sounded from somewhere just behind them. Two guards stood guarding a low wooden gate that was more decoration than anything else, leaning against their spears in the boredom that comes from being stationed at something for a decade and seeing nothing happen.

"Excuse me." Felix made his way easily along, keeping his hands in his pockets. "I'm looking for a physician. Some local man who works with healing and medicine and all that sort of thing."

Both of the guards looked at each other before shrugging almost perfectly in unison. "No physician in this village. If someone is seriously ill, we get one from the next village."

"Thank you." Felix shrugged and moved on.

The next person he went to was a woman sitting on a low stool surrounded by drying fish, busily gutting another one.

"Healer?" She didn't look up from what she was doing. "No need for that kind here. Most of us make do alone."

"Somebody special who takes care of people?"

She considered it, her knife paused midway through a cut. "Old woman just two blocks away does some herbal treatment but nothing big."

He thanked her for her time and pressed onward, approaching a man fixing fishing nets at the other end of the riverbank, and repeated his question with small variations in wording, taking care not to mention the one name he sought.

"Physician? You mean a physician, a trained one? Haven't seen one around in years."

"Years?"

"You might ask the store down there near the square. Maybe that old Renard will be able to help you out. He knows everybody's private business in this place, whether he should or not."

Felix had no trouble finding the store. It was a modest structure with baskets of various dried stuffs lined up outside its door. The owner, missing a couple of his teeth, examined Felix carefully upon entering before answering any of his questions.

"Healer, is that what you need?" He rubbed at his jaw. "I would recommend old Bertrand. In the east part of town, past the mill. Stitches and fever are his specialties around here. Has been since I could remember."

"Where should I go?"

"You won't miss it." The old man pointed in an indefinite way to the east. "It's the only house with a blue door in the whole village. The rest of us aren't interested in painting."

Felix thanked him, leaving a coin on the counter and heading east with Dune walking by his side quietly and calmly. They passed by the spinning wheel of the mill with the churning water beneath it and an old man feeding the grains into it, without lifting his eyes at them.

A little further along the road, some kids who were playing near the well stared at them and Dune when passing and whispered something behind their hands.

Dune gazed at them indifferently until one of them bravely waved at her and she waved back awkwardly. The kids laughed and ran towards the riverbank.

"They like you," Felix observed.

"Not sure why," she murmured, tilting her head and watching them leave.

They continued walking past several humble dwellings where the laundry hung from one house to another, until the door in the color described by the shopkeeper appeared right where it was supposed to, the paint slightly worn at the edges, but definitely blue.

Bertrand opened the door midway through his chewing of bread in one hand, crouching down slightly, with his gray beard covered in crumbs. He squinted at both of them as if they weren't expected visitors at his doorstep before noon.

"You need help?"

"Looking for another physician to practice around here." Felix tried to keep his voice soft and casual. "I heard about some other guy who did the same kind of job in the area."

"It is just me," Bertrand said with a frown, chewing even slower and studying Felix a little too long. "The only healer this village has for almost thirty years now. You can ask anyone."

Felix's jaw tensed. "You know a guy called Leto? Leto Socrates. Said he was actually born here. Capital-born family, came back at one point, and said the family was still living around here somewhere."

Bertrand frowned even deeper, this time really thinking about the name, muttering it under his breath. "Socrates. No." He shook his head vigorously. "Never once in my entire life have I heard that name, and I've been living here since birth. That family has never settled down anywhere close to this village, as far as my memory goes and my father ever told me before he died."

Felix expelled an exasperated breath. It had gone exactly how he knew it would, and yet for some reason, hearing it confirmed made it feel even heavier somehow.

Dune remained silent next to him, studying Bertrand's face.

"Also," Felix said, keeping his voice even, measured. "It was about a month ago, give or take a few days. A man was there for a time, carrying two large suitcases, giving out gifts, toys for the children of the village. That sound familiar to you?"

Bertrand's face immediately lit up at that, his loaf of bread forgotten in his hands. "Oh yes, that fellow. I didn't get to see him, you understand, had a bad knee that week, but the entire village had nothing else to talk about afterwards for days on end. Gave the children little wooden toys, gave some medicine to a couple sickly households, then disappeared like he never had been there before, no one remembering his name, or if anyone knew, it must have been forgotten by now." He scratched his chin, thoughtfully. "Very odd man, according to what everyone else tells me. But kind. A very odd man, but kind nonetheless."

"Yeah," Felix said, a faint smile playing about his lips. "Sounds right."

"You knew him, then?" Bertrand said, narrowing his eyes with curiosity.

"Thought I did." Felix tipped his head once in the direction of the doorway as he was stepping away. "Thank you for your time."

They were seated by the well afterward, cool stone beneath them and the sounds of the river reaching them faintly through the trees. Dune sat beside him, silent, gazing at the bucket swinging back and forth on its rope, the wood groaning softly with every little swing.

"Dune." Felix looked down at his own hands, flipping them over carefully. "When Leto was staying with us. Did you sense something strange about him? Not the seal, but him."

She considered the matter the way she considered everything, carefully, her eyes on the swinging bucket. "He looked at me the way you look at food that you're not supposed to have."

"That's a peculiarly precise description."

"Accuracy does have its merits."

"I suppose it does." He exhaled sharply. "What else?"

"He asked the sorts of things no one else had asked me." Dune titled her head. "Questions about how I felt upon waking in the mornings. Whether I had been afraid of my hands once."

"Did you answer him?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation on her part whatsoever. "There seemed to be no particular reason not to."

"Good point." He ran a hand over his face. "What else?"

"He was kind. But there was something else beneath that kindness." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I didn't have a name for it back then. Sabrina says he seemed grief-stricken."

"Grief-stricken." The word lingered heavy in his mouth. "By what, precisely? Does Sabrina know?"

"No." Dune shook her head. "Just that it felt old. Like something carried for a very long time before coming to me."

"Old grief." Felix gritted his teeth. "Great. How reassuring."

"You did ask."

"I did." He remained there for several seconds, the sound of rope moving against itself and the bucket's lazy swing accompanying him. Every question he answered only gave rise to three new ones that were impossible for him to explore out there.

"Do you think he wanted to hurt me?" Dune looked at him instead of the bucket now.

"No," Felix responded quickly, with absolute certainty in at least one thing. "If he intended to hurt you, he had plenty of time to do it in our home for the time he stayed. He didn't." He pushed himself away from the ground, brushing the dust off his trousers. "And wanting something and being able to do it safely are different things. But I'd love to know what the hell he wanted."

He began walking back towards the road.

"That fucking bitch."