Symbols are Magic (Through a Glass Darkly 2)

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He was awake all night with a frightened girl and her delivery, her Calahad-flavored voice echoing through the crowded spaces and shadows in Darktown. A few, the curious like Rasa and Cricket, snuck closer to make sure she wasn't being raped under the city's feet, but Elessah assured the persistent Rasa until the babe was born near dawn.

Elassah was happy with her new daughter, even if she had lost everyone else in Redcliffe.

That he couldn't heal.

When they rested, his helpers appeared to start another day. They had first call on any donations they received. He didn't eat often and had sold all the things he'd earned at the Vigil to get here. He had enough.

Little Rasa came over to see him after he cleaned up and asked with big eyes, “Elessah was so pretty. Will she be pretty again?”

He needed sleep, but he could see the first bloody and stubborn mine injury of the day was being helped down the stairs on the far side of the chamber. Stepping over to the cleanest table, he told Rasa absently, “She just needs to rest.”

“Are you sure?”

The child's doubt made the tired healer smile, but he had already delivered far more here than he had back at the Circle Tower. “Yes,” he said while rubbing his sore eyes.

Moans from the miner with his arm crushed, then took all of the healer's attention and energy, and then other injured and sick filled the rest of his day. Finally he could record his notes on his patients, with a rumbling inside that he ignored.

Elessah was resting and would have to leave the clinic for those in greater need on the next day. Rasa had been lurking enough that the mother sent her away.

The girl darted to his table and complained, “She still doesn't feel pretty, Ser. You're a real healer. Can't you do a spell to make her pretty, so she can find a general and have a family and live happily ever after?”

His tired smile faded a little. What she asked wasn't really possible, though dark magic could create an imitation. He couldn't even help himself with happiness, especially as he was now. “No, love. Happiness isn't made by magic. I can only heal injuries or illnesses.”

Her brow knitted, she didn't quite believe him. “You make potions too. Is there a potion that can make her feel better? Granmama used a lotion that kept her pretty. Please?”

This little girl was going to be a terror when she got older. As tired and jaded as he'd become, hiding down here from the Templars while he waited for news, he wanted to help her.

He felt disapproval that was familiar, but still he said, “Rasa, I have to save my ingredients for people who are really sick. But we can make her a tea if you can find a few things to add. Pretty things to remind her she is pretty. So when she drinks this and gets her rest, she will show her true beauty. Now don't take these things without permission, it won't work as well. Get me some honeysuckle and pansy flowers, and... clover for that soldier. I'll get the rest...”

“Thank you!” Rasa squealed as she hugged him, almost dislodging him from his chair.

This is only a distraction.

The healer was getting better at ignoring him over some things.

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A/N: Any errors that remain in this are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.