[Michael Chui]

Originally Posted by Mark Lapierre

Please do!

Heh, alright. Posted without any editing; if something doesn't make sense, point it out and I'll explain.

"Drop a stone into a pond, and you see ripples. For every action taken, there is resultant impact."
- The Laws Nonae, Law of Consequence

The bustle of the town was a blanket around their shoulders, reminding them of the familiarity of people and their antics. His hand curled around the familiar wood of his walking staff, Teagan gazed at the stable briefly before regarding the inn. The amiable din of a waning afternoon would have provided sufficient cover for a pickpocket, in a town this size, but he was a maester, and his craft bestowed some respect for his apparent blindness. The display of the healer's mark had other effects, though.

He did not see the dark-haired woman behind him, until he felt twin taps upon his shoulder. "You're a maester?"

"Yes." The maester Mirandus turned slowly, all the time in the world in his hands.

She spoke, "My friend--" But his face surprised her. "You look familiar. Never mind. My friend is sick and needs attention. Do you have time, maester?"

His countenance remained unchanged, unaltered. "Yes." He nodded politely to the soldiers trine and departed, close on the heels of the woman.

[OOC: At this point, Teagan is no longer with the group. I've discussed this with Archmage, and will be making a few posts to this subplot, which will not be available for interaction with other PCs at this time.]

FROM DISTAFF TO SPINDLE

The house could have been kept better. Throughout the rooms, there were clear demarcations in decorative style and kemptness, and a blonde waved a greeting to his guide in passing. The woman and the maester continued through a maze of laundry up the stairs to the bedside of a suffering youngster.

The maester began with alacrity, much information already noted from the brief interrogation during the trip. He considered the boy with some curiosity, his delicate hands passing where propriety denied but medicine permitted, and finally nodded in conclusion. A quick conversation and the woman left, while Teagan murmured a kind word to the bedridden fellow. It was some time, but a portly sage with a keen eye joined them in the bedroom.

"A travelling maester, eh? Not so many of your kind, these days." He offered the fresh herbs, of which Teagan had none. The traveler smiled thinly.

"I've found no place I'd like to settle, and it is good for the body to travel."

A chuckle answered his response. "A convenience and a blessing. Do you have a name, brother?"

The smile disappeared, and the traveler's face became a silent film for delicate seconds. When he spoke, it was unembellished, proud, unyielding. "Teagan Mirandus." The name had the expected effect, creasing the local maester's face with a frown. "You have a reputation."

"If you do not trust me, you may care for the boy, since you are unoccupied."

The offer was given consideration. "Yes, but," it didn't seem right. "Let me pay you for the trouble..." When is charity an insult? When is a gift unwittingly poisoned? "At least a meal, or a night's rest. You are human," but not enough to be forgiven. "Brother."

Teagan was immobile, irresolute. His face, stiff, and his hands trembled; he did not respond. The local maester shifted, leaning forward to press his case.

"He may stay the night with us." Her offer took them both aback, and Teagan managed to express that it was not a necessity. Before another word was spoken, the reason they were all there gave off a loud, hacking cough. It was a subtle reminder.

The portly man, some small part of the matter decided, stepped past and began fashioning his remedies. The two watched his operations, retreating to the other end of the room where they seated themselves. Teagan watched for a short time, until it was clear there was nothing new to learn. The flap of a satchel lifted and he extracted his notebook, gazing at it.

Then she spoke. "You don't remember me, Teagan?"

His grip on the notebook tightened. "I remember." Deliberately, he set it aside as he let his gaze rest on the patient. "But not much. It has been a long time, and there has been much to think about on the road."

"You became a maester." Her voice was coaxing.

"Yes."

"But?"

Teagan bowed his head, allowing his hair to drape past his neck. "I am afraid that healing is not my calling." He turned, then. "But I do care about those I heal. I have learned." She didn't seem interested in his reassurance.

"He doesn't trust you."

The travelling maester shook his head. "I don't ask for his trust; I am merely passing through."

"You're a good healer, Teagan."

"You would know." He finally met her eyes. "Sarah."

"Will you stay the night?"

The question seemed to still something inside him. He reconsidered, before he answered, and she waited. "I can." Gesturing with a hand, he added, "I am on my way to the capital, with a friend. His mother is sick." He shook his head, standing. "Is there somewhere where I may meditate?" Sarah nodded, led him out the door across the hallway into another room. It was tidy, though the signs of life graced every wall. It was her room. "Thank you. And let the maester know this is more than enough payment." This, she acknowledged without comment and left him in peace with his thoughts.

Obviously, there's more to the story both before and after, but that's a single post.