CHAPTER 22: MEDICINE AND BLOOD

Joe's routine changed after Merek accepted him into the medicine shop, but not as dramatically as he had imagined.

For the first several weeks, very little of what he did could honestly be called studying medicine.

He still woke early, ate with the family and walked to the Talent Hall beside Simon. Most of the day belonged to static foundation training, conditioning, meals and whatever other work Hall assigned. When training ended, Simon usually returned home while Joe continued north through the village toward Merek's shop.

By the time Joe finally came home, Lily was often preparing dinner.

Home to the Talent Hall.

The Talent Hall to Merek's shop.

Merek's shop back home.

Then sleep.

Joe expected the schedule to wear him down more than it did.

Some evenings he returned hungry enough to eat almost anything Lily placed in front of him, and his legs occasionally felt heavy after a particularly difficult day of stance training, but by morning the exhaustion had usually disappeared. Perfect Health and Perfect Body had always improved his recovery; only now, with nearly every hour of the day occupied, did Joe appreciate how significant that advantage actually was.

Merek did not care.

If Joe arrived energetic, he worked.

If he looked tired, the healer gave him lighter work and told him not to drop anything expensive.

Most days began with carrying water, cleaning work surfaces or turning plants on drying racks. Joe swept the preparation rooms, washed ceramic containers and moved completed packets to the front shop. He learned how the shelves were organized and which jars he was forbidden to open without permission.

The two older apprentices handled the actual production.

They washed roots, separated leaves, cut bark into narrow strips and ground dried ingredients into powders. Some preparations were boiled until only thick paste remained, while others were mixed dry and folded into paper packets.

Joe was allowed to carry the ingredients between rooms.

He was not allowed to combine them.

That distinction remained very deliberate.

Merek protected his recipes without needing a magical contract.

One apprentice might be told to grind a certain amount of dried root. Another might boil three handfuls of leaves until the liquid reduced by half. The resulting powders and extracts were then labeled and stored separately.

Merek handled the important combinations himself.

Sometimes he measured ingredients while the apprentices were present, but even then he rarely explained the entire preparation from beginning to end. Other times he took several containers into his private room and returned with a finished mixture ready to be packed.

Joe quickly recognized the system.

Compartmentalization.

It had existed in his previous life for everything from software permissions to manufacturing processes. Nobody needed to know the entire system as long as each person understood the part required for his work.

Merek had apparently discovered the same principle without ever hearing the word.

For now, Joe did not mind.

There was more than enough knowledge available without touching the guarded recipes.

Whenever Merek had time, he taught.

At first, the lessons were simple.

Five roots.

Then ten leaves.

Which part of the plant was medicinal.

Which looked similar enough to be dangerous.

What should be harvested before flowering and what should be gathered afterward.

Joe learned quickly enough that Merek gradually stopped repeating himself.

No Regression made forgetting almost irrelevant once Joe had properly understood something, while Every Hard Work Pays Off made the process of identifying, sorting and preparing materials steadily easier.

Merek noticed the result without understanding the cause.

One afternoon, he placed eight dried roots across the table.

"Names and use."

Joe identified all eight.

Merek pointed to the third.

"Where does it grow?"

"Shaded hillsides, usually where the soil stays damp. The older roots are stronger, but if the center has turned dark, you said not to use it."

The healer moved to the sixth.

"What resembles it?"

Joe gave the answer.

Merek remained quiet for a few moments, then replaced the roots with another tray.

"Learn these."

That became their pattern.

Merek did not praise often.

He simply stopped wasting time teaching Joe things Joe already knew.

Joe preferred that.

The medicine shop also gave him a clearer understanding of the resources martial trainees used.

Merek divided the ordinary preparations sold to them into two broad types.

Healing medicines dealt with the damage training left behind. They reduced swelling, helped strains and bruises recover and supported the body after repeated hard exercise.

Nourishing medicine served another purpose.

It replenished what the body used to produce blood energy.

Joe learned the distinction after asking why two similar-looking packets had such different prices.

Merek had been checking dried slices of root beneath the afternoon light.

"The cheaper one helps the body repair itself after training. The other is nourishment."

"For blood energy?"

"For the body that makes blood energy."

Joe paid closer attention.

Merek looked at him.

"You Talent Hall children hear 'blood energy' and start imagining there's some invisible substance floating around waiting for you to breathe it in. There isn't. Your body produces what you use."

"From food and medicine."

"Mostly. A starving martial artist doesn't become stronger because he breathes very enthusiastically."

Joe almost smiled.

That clarified something important.

Spirituality and blood energy were not the same resource.

The Starlight Stone had only determined whether Joe possessed the qualification necessary to enter martial practice. As far as anyone around him currently knew, it was effectively a yes-or-no condition. The stone had not measured how much spirituality Joe possessed, and at his current level there was little reason to care.

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Blood energy was different.

Blood energy depends on the body.

Food supplied material.

Nourishing medicines supplied better or more concentrated material.

The body turned those resources into usable energy.

Training then spent it.

Joe began watching the older Hall students differently after that.

Two wealthy trainees could eat similar meals and take similar medicines without progressing at the same speed.

Resources clearly mattered.

They were not the only variable.

Some bodies seemed better at making use of what they received.

Some could train longer before exhaustion.

Some recovered quickly enough to repeat difficult tempering more often.

Joe did not have enough examples to reduce those differences to one cause, and Merek had little interest in martial theory beyond what affected health.

Still, Joe's own body offered one clue.

He had grown strong and healthy even during the years when Simon received most of the household's extra eggs, fish and meat. Perfect Body seemed remarkably efficient at using whatever nutrition Joe received.

The four-silver medicinal paste strengthened that suspicion.

Both brothers had benefited from it.

Joe had benefited more.

He could not prove whether Perfect Body improved absorption, reduced waste, improved recovery or did several of those things together.

The practical result was enough.

His body used resources well.

That did not make resources unnecessary.

It made obtaining better resources even more valuable.

A body capable of absorbing more still needed something to absorb.

Joe gradually began thinking of martial progress as two separate limits.

One limit was energy.

A trainee might only have enough blood energy for two productive tempering sessions in a day.

The other limit was the body itself.

Another trainee might still possess blood energy after two sessions but have skin, muscle or bone too strained to safely endure a third.

Both people stopped after two.

Their problems were completely different.

Better nourishing medicine could help the first.

Better healing, recovery and stronger physical capacity could help the second.

A wealthy trainee could attack both limits simultaneously.

That explained why the expensive medicinal canteen mattered without turning money into automatic martial progress.

Resources increased opportunity.

They did not create comprehension.

Spring gradually replaced Deepwinter.

Snow disappeared from the exposed fields first. The shaded edges near the forest remained white longer, then turned into wet earth as the last ice melted.

Green Hollow became muddy.

The packed road softened under carts and boots, and the six family strips south of the village needed attention again.

Mike and Joseph began repairing tools and clearing the narrow channels that guided water away from the fields. Lily inspected seed grain with the seriousness of someone choosing which coins to throw into the ground and trust to return multiplied.

Even Pam spent more time near the doorway commenting on everyone else's work.

Mary discovered mud again.

That created problems almost immediately.

One afternoon Joe came home to find Lily holding Mary's arm while examining a dress that had once been brown only around the bottom.

"What happened?"

Mary pointed toward the yard.

"I fell."

Lily looked at Joe.

"She jumped."

Mary frowned.

"You didn't see."

"I saw the hole you were jumping over."

"I almost made it."

Lily closed her eyes.

Joe quietly went to wash before anyone asked him to participate.

Spring also returned the river to usefulness.

Joe could no longer spend as much time fishing himself. Merek's shop consumed most afternoons, and the fields increasingly demanded the rest.

So, Joe recruited Simon.

Simon initially treated the idea as an insult.

"I already know how to fish."

"You know how to hold a line."

"I've caught fish."

"You've also lost more than you've caught."

"Everyone loses fish."

Joe handed him part of the net.

"Then show me."

That worked better than persuasion.

Simon learned quickly.

Years of martial training had given him better coordination than the children Joe originally fished with, and once he stopped trying to throw the net with unnecessary force, his results improved.

Joe also showed him how to place the funnel traps.

Simon listened more carefully than he admitted.

Within several weeks, he could maintain most of them himself.

The fish supply became less abundant than when Joe personally checked every location, but it remained steady enough to supplement household meals.

Simon enjoyed the visible result.

The first time he returned carrying three good fish without Joe, he entered the house already explaining.

"I moved the lower trap closer to the reeds because the water was faster today, and before anyone said Joe told me exactly where to put it, he didn't. He showed me how to judge the current. Choosing the place was mine."

Pam looked at the fish.

"So, they surrendered because of your judgment."

Simon frowned.

"They're fish."

"Exactly."

Lily took the catch before another argument began.

Joe was satisfied.

He no longer needed to choose between medicine and fish every afternoon.

----------

The Talent Hall changed during the same period.

Hall began travelling to Blackwood more frequently.

At first he disappeared for one afternoon every few weeks. Later, entire days passed without him.

Theodere had business in town and appeared to be preparing something more permanent there, though nobody in Green Hollow seemed to know exactly what.

Rumors spread anyway.

Pam heard it was a second training hall.

Simon heard it was an escort business.

One of the older trainees insisted Theodere was purchasing a warehouse.

Joe believed none of them.

The reliable fact was much simpler.

Theodere had opportunities in Blackwood and Hall was helping him manage them.

Their relationship was close, but not equal. Hall had followed Theodere for years and trusted his judgment, while Theodere trusted Hall enough to leave most of Green Hollow's daily training in his hands.

Trust did not erase hierarchy.

Theodere opened doors.

Hall walked through them.

Eventually, Hall gathered the students and announced that formal Talent Hall training would operate five days each week.

The other two would be rest days.

That produced immediate complaints from several older students who believed losing two supervised days would slow their progress.

Hall listened until they finished.

Then he said, "If your body could improve forever without recovery, I would have all of you train while sleeping. Since it cannot, you'll rest."

One older trainee started to argue that he could still practice alone.

Hall looked at him.

"Reviewing what you already know is fine. Turning a rest day into another full training day because nobody is there to stop you is not. Exercise and recovery are both part of training. If you don't understand that yet, you have learned less here than I thought."

That ended most of the argument.

Joe welcomed the change.

One rest day usually went partly to Merek.

The second gave him time for household work, fishing, reviewing medicine and additional static practice at a pace that did not exhaust him.

Mary's writing board became useful again during those days.

She had inherited Simon's old board, but spring had destroyed most of her enthusiasm for sitting indoors. Once there were insects to chase, mud to shape and places Lily had explicitly told her not to visit, the board spent more time leaning against the wall.

Joe asked permission before taking it.

Mary barely looked at him.

"You can have it."

"I only need to borrow it."

"You can keep it."

Then she ran outside.

Joe used the board to organize Merek's lessons.

He did not need it because he feared forgetting.

No Regression handled that.

Writing helped him compare.

Healing plants on one side.

Nourishing plants on another.

Which became stronger after drying.

Which lost effectiveness if heated too much.

Which combinations Merek warned against.

The act of arranging what he knew often produced new connections, and Every Hard Work Pays Off rewarded that effort as surely as it rewarded physical practice.

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By the time Joe had spent eight months in the Talent Hall, he had been working in Merek's shop for a little more than three months.

His static foundation had changed enormously.

Before his eighth birthday, sensing blood energy had been uncertain. A faint warmth here. Pressure there. Occasionally something that felt different from ordinary circulation but vanished before he could examine it carefully.

Every Hard Work Pays Off changed the pace.

Each properly completed set improved the stances.

As the stances improved, the resonance they produced inside his body became stronger.

That was the part Joe had not understood at first.

The six static positions were not simply postures designed to make blood energy easier to notice.

When performed correctly with the matching breathing patterns, they created a subtle resonance through the body.

At low proficiency, the effect was so faint that it could easily be mistaken for warmth, muscle tension or heartbeat.

Joe could understand why Simon had needed years.

Most children did not spend every repetition separating one internal sensation from another with the patience of an adult trying to test a hypothesis.

Joe did.

And his talent steadily made the signal stronger.

One spring morning, the change finally became unmistakable.

Joe entered the first stance.

His breathing settled.

The familiar resonance spread through his body.

This time it did not appear as one vague patch of warmth.

Joe could feel blood energy throughout himself.

Not clearly.

Not individually enough to follow where every portion went.

But everywhere.

A faint internal presence extended through his arms, legs, torso and even the edges of his hands and feet.

He shifted into the second stance.

The resonance changed slightly.

The blood energy remained perceptible.

Third.

Fourth.

Fifth.

Sixth.

Each stance emphasized the sensation differently, but none allowed it to disappear completely.

When Joe finished the sequence, he knew.

Minor success.

Static foundation had finally reached the level where its resonance was strong enough for him to sense the blood energy throughout his body with consistency.

Higher mastery would make that perception more detailed.

For now, vague but complete awareness was enough.

Hall's requirement had been met.

Joe was qualified to learn the dynamic foundation.

He stood quietly in the training yard while other beginners continued around him.

Eight months.

Simon had taken roughly three years.

Before gaining his eighth-birthday talent, Joe had estimated that two years should be comfortable and perhaps a year and a half achievable.

The first four months of his training had supported that estimate.

The next four had destroyed it.

Joe could roughly compare the work.

Those four months after Every Hard Work Pays Off felt closer to a year of his old progress than to one season.

He had done in eight months what should have taken him considerably longer.

And he had done it without regular medicinal support.

Joe thought about Merek's nourishing medicines.

Then about the paid canteen.

If he had possessed the same continuous resources as the wealthier students, his progress could have been faster still.

That realization should have pleased him.

Instead, Joe looked toward the section where dynamic trainees practiced behind the separated training area.

Then he looked away.

He was not going to Hall.

Not yet.

Minor success did not mean his static foundation was finished.

More importantly, Every Hard Work Pays Off was still producing improvement.

For ordinary students, reaching minor success meant escaping a bottleneck and moving on before years disappeared.

Joe did not have that problem.

He could continue.

So, he returned to the first stance and began again.

Only this time, he practiced while clearly feeling the blood energy resonating through his body.

There was much more hidden inside the same six positions than he had understood before.

Joe intended to find out how far they went before anyone else learned how fast he had already come.