Chapter 6: She's a half-orc girl who wants to be a doctor!

Chapter 6
"She's a half-orc girl who wants to be a doctor!"


April 10, 1885
The Bridesdale Inn in Tarant, Mid-morning

I arrived for my melee lesson at the police station early this morning. Captain Fitzwater was not in, but an officer directed me to where I could change and get a practice sword. From there I went to the training room where my prospective tutor waited for me. I entered and politely introduced myself. His jaw dropped; it seems Captain Fitzwater had neglected to inform him I was a half-orc.

“What on earth are you doing here? Surely you’re not expecting me to train a half-breed brute such as yourself,” he said.

I pretended to be shocked. “Sir! That was most rude. I was told you were a gentleman.”

“Well, you are certainly no lady.”

“Really, sir, can’t we at least speak together like two civilized adults?”

We fenced verbally back and forth in this manner for a while until eventually the poor man stood there speechless, looking rather bewildered. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, madam. I suppose you cannot help being what you are; you cannot help your nature. If you are willing to make the effort to at least appear civilized, then I suppose I ought to be willing to make the effort to put up with you.” So began my first lesson with the sword.




April 10, 1885
The Great Library of Tarant, Late at Night

I had intended to apologize to Virgil this morning, but things didn’t work out the way I’d planned. We were having a late breakfast after my lesson when I mentioned to him that I wanted to go to the University on my own today, and soon we were arguing again.

“I don’t like leaving you alone,” he said. “It’s not safe.”

“Virgil, I can’t have you chaperoning me around everywhere I go. It looks strange. Who am I supposed to tell people you are? It’s hard enough dealing with those damnable professors without trying to explain why you’re with me.”

Virgil was struggling to control his temper. “Don’t you understand? There are a bunch of bloody assassins out there somewhere who want to kill you.”

“I doubt they’re still looking for me after all this time. But even if they are, Tarant is a huge city, and they don’t even know I’m here. Look,” I said holding up the morning’s newspaper, “Captain Fitzwater kept his word; the paper doesn’t even mention that there was a survivor from the blimp crash.”

Virgil put his head in his hands. “Fine, do what you want! Just don’t come crying to me when you get your bloody throat cut!”

He sat there silently for a while as I read the paper and ate a piece of buttered toast. “When will you be back?” he said.

“I’m not sure. It’s a big university and there are a lot of people to talk to. And I’m eating lunch with Catherine. I could be there all day.”

“Bloody hell, this is taking so much time! Shouldn’t we be finding out who this ring belongs to? We should be talking to that dwarf, or getting into that jewelry shop, or looking for this G.B. character, or figuring out what that gnome was trying to tell you, or finding Joachim, or something!”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Virgil. I knew this would happen. I’m not the person you think I am, I’m not some reincarnated elvish saint. I’m just an ordinary half-orc, and I have my own life to worry about. It’s not going to be easy becoming a medical student; I can’t spend all my time hunting down this mystery.”

“Look,” Virgil said, “can’t this whole doctor thing wait?” Seeing the angry look I gave him, he continued, “Please, I understand this is important to you. But there are people trying to kill you, and even if you don’t believe in this prophecy business, something big is going on. Can’t becoming a doctor wait just a little while until we sort this out? I mean, you’re young. You have plenty of time to do all that later.”

I looked at him through narrowed eyes as I said softly, “No, Virgil. It cannot wait, and I do not have time. At least, not as much time as I’d have if I were fully human. I’m not blessed with your life-span, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

I looked down. “Well, my heritage obviously favors my human lineage over my orcish, and I hope that holds true for my life span as well. But we half-orcs don’t live as long as you do. I’ll undoubtedly be an old lady by the time I’m 45, perhaps even sooner. And it’s rare for a half-orc to make it to 60. I suppose it’s the price we pay for never getting sick. So you see, I can’t afford to waste time.”

Virgil sat there, looking stunned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Really, there’s no cause for that,” I said, regretting I’d brought up the subject. “I’ve always known this, and I’ve never expected anything else. Should an elf feel sorry for you because you’ll be lucky if you live a century? We’re like mayflies to them, you and I.”

Virgil sat there thinking about what I’d said. “Do you really never get sick?”

“Well, hardly ever; not until we’re old, at least. We half-orcs have very strong constitutions. I’ve never been sick a day in my life, not even as a child. That should have given me away, that and the fact that I was, well, let’s just say no one ever said I was pretty, even when I looked entirely human otherwise. But the people in the city where I grew up didn’t know much about half-orcs. It wasn’t until my adult canines came in that they started to suspect.”

“I don’t understand. If you don’t get sick, why do you want to be a doctor so much?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a doctor. It’s what I was born to do, I suppose. Besides, other people get sick even if I don’t.”

As I finished breakfast, I said, “Look, I really do have to go now. Perhaps we can visit Magnus this evening.”

I walked to the University, and spent the rest of the morning doing research. The secretaries were singularly unhelpful, but I eventually succeeded in compiling a list of every professor at Tarant University who was even vaguely connected to the field of medicine.

That done, I went to the museum to meet Catherine for lunch. It was a relief to get away, and I looked forward to talking with someone with whom I could share my most precious ambitions. It was a beautiful sunny day; as sunny as it ever gets in this city where there is always at least some smog. Catherine knew of a secluded place in the park where we could eat our lunch undisturbed by those who might be offended by our presence.

I told her of my apprenticeship, how I was discovered, and how I had come to the new world determined to resume my aborted education. I was very interested to hear how she had managed to become a receptionist at the museum. While this was far short of my own goal, she had achieved more than any other half-orc I had ever heard of. It was a remarkable story. The museum owed its existence to a very wealthy gentleman named Mr. Faraday. Mr. Faraday was known as an eccentric absent-minded man, but a man of honor. One day as he took his morning constitutional, he lost his way, and wound up in one of the less civilized districts of Tarant. He was set upon by two orcish thugs, and Catherine’s father had saved him at the cost of his own life. So moved was Mr. Faraday by her father’s sacrifice, that he determined that the half-orc’s now orphaned daughter would not be left destitute. So he arranged for her to work at the museum.

This had not been easy. Nearly all the employees and scholars at the museum had protested, but Mr. Faraday would not be moved. It was his money that made the museum possible, and he could do what he liked. Even so, there was still a great deal of infighting and politics over the matter, and Catherine told me her job was far from safe. More importantly from my point of view, Catherine had been the beneficiary of rare and extraordinary fortune. I would call it luck except that she lost her father. While I was glad she had found a place at the museum, her story had no bearing on my own situation; there was nothing in her experience that could benefit me.

I asked Catherine what advice she could give me in seeking to achieve my own goal. She looked at me silently for a moment, and her eyes filled with pity. “You seem a nice girl, miss,” she said, “and I hate to be the one to tell you this. But you’re trying to do the impossible.” I started to protest, but she interrupted me, “You don’t know what it’s like here, child. Those humans would never trust one of us to doctor ‘em, or God forbid, to doctor one of their children. I just don’t want to see you hurt, miss, but that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t set your sights a little lower. Believe me, I’ve lived here all my life. I know what it’s like.”

It felt almost as though she’d dealt me a physical blow. I swallowed back my own bitter response; she obviously meant well. I even managed to thank her before I went on my way. But she was asking the impossible of me. I would die before I would abandon my dream. And anyway, I don’t care what she says; I will find a way. After all, I never thought this would be easy.

So I walked back to the University and resumed my search for a professor that would talk to me. School was not in session and many of the professors were away, but I eventually found Professor Benjamin Gershwin in his office. To my surprise, he actually seemed happy to see me. As I entered, his face lit up and he said, “Oh, hello, miss! Please do sit down. What can I do for you?”

“I’m so very pleased to meet you, Professor Gershwin. My name is Clarisse Vorak. Might I inquire what your area of specialization is?”

“Phrenology, Miss Vorak.”

“Phrenology?”

“Yes, miss. It’s a science of the head! You see, every man and woman’s head is characterized by different bumps and ridges. Through studying these, I attempt to extrapolate the personality of the individual involved. It’s dreadfully interesting, and phenomenally accurate.”

“You determine peoples’ personalities by studying the bumps on their heads?” I said, hardly able to believe my ears.

“That is roughly correct, miss.”

I sat there, horrified. This man, this doctor, this eminent professor at the University of Tarant was a crackpot!

He leaned forward and continued eagerly, “Miss, would you mind if I analyzed your skull? I promise it won’t hurt, and I could learn a lot by analyzing someone like you.”

“Why, I would be delighted,” I said, feeling a bit queasy.

“Here, if you’ll just lower your head and turn to the right.” I felt profoundly uncomfortable as he ran his hands over my head. “Aha! Oh! Oh, quite interesting. I would surmise, unquestionably, that you are indeed a half-orc!”

I choked back a sarcastic reply, reminding myself that my future as a doctor could very well rest in this man’s hands. “Really, sir? You can deduce that simply from the shape of my skull?”

“Oh, not only that! I can deduce your temperament, character traits, personal strengths and weaknesses, and many other physical, mental, and emotional characteristics.”

“Your powers amaze me, sir.” It is beginning to frighten me how well I’m learning to lie.

“Yes, yes I know. But remember, it’s not me, it’s science! And phrenology is the science of the future!”

“That is fascinating, sir. Perhaps I should tell you why I came here. I am very interested in becoming a medical student at Tarant University.”

He looked down at me with a patronizing smile. “Really, miss? Oh that’s very nice. But I think you should consider alternatives. I can state authoritatively after examining you that this is not the sort of work that would best suit your capabilities.”

“I see. And what sort of work do you think I would be suited for, sir?”

“Well, we must look at your motivation for studying medicine. You want to help people, right? I deduced that from my analysis just now. You want to serve humanity, to do good.”

“Yes?”

Dr. Gershwin got up and looked out his door to see if anyone was listening. He shut it and returned to his desk before continuing, “Well, I have a task you can do that will further my work and thus serve humanity. I’m looking to acquire the skulls of Jin and Xin, the famous Ren’ar Siamese twins, for my studies. They were elvish debutantes who were joined at the hip their whole lives! Scandalous characters as well! Stories of their exploits still float around the elite Tarantian social circles.”

“How fascinating,” I said, surreptitiously pinching myself to make sure this wasn’t all just some horrible nightmare. “And where might one acquire these skulls?”

“Well, you see, that’s where you come in! The skulls are interned in a mausoleum in the Tarant cemetery. It would not be difficult for you to retrieve them after the cemetery is closed, and I’ll pay you 100 coins for your trouble.”

My composure finally broke. “You want me to rob a grave for you?”

He smiled and spoke as though he were addressing a rather dimwitted child. “This is in the interest of science, miss. You mustn’t think of this as robbery. I promise you, if you can get me those skulls, I can use them to help lots of people! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Excuse me sir, I’ve just remembered I’m late for another appointment.” I fled from his office before I could say something I might later regret. I walked quickly down the halls, not really caring where I was going as long as it was far away from him. Finally, I leaned against a wall to calm myself.

As I stood there, I looked into the office across the way from me. An elvish professor was sitting at his desk writing in a book. The walls of his office were adorned with religious symbols from many faiths; evidently he was a professor of theology. My eyes were drawn to a large and complex mural. It was covered in symbols; there was a tree, a skull, a dagger, and many others whose significance eluded me. But I saw one symbol that looked familiar: a crude drawing of a head with an oversize mouth. “Excuse me, sir,” I said.

He glanced up at me, raised an eyebrow, then returned to whatever he was working on. “What are you doing here, half-orc?”

“Please sir, I could not help but notice that large mural.”

“You’re having a most unpleasant effect on my general disposition, madam. Please, I’d rather you just left me alone,” he said.

“But sir, I’ve seen that symbol before, at an abandoned temple in the wilderness west of Tarant; a 12 day journey from here.”

“Have you really?” he said, putting down his quill. “Interesting, I’ve visited that site. You must have been far off the beaten path.”

“Indeed we were, sir. I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Clarisse Vorak. I wonder if you could tell me more about that fascinating mural.”

It turned out I was speaking to Professor Aldous T. Buxington. He was an expert in the pagan cults of Arcanum. As I asked him more questions about his field of expertise, he gradually forgot that I was a half-orc, as he became fully involved in speaking to me about the subject he loved so much.

Of course I remembered a little about the pagan gods from my studies back at the boarding school. Worship of them had died with the coming of the age of legends over 2000 years ago, but before that they had been the dominant religions of Arcanum. Professor Buxington told me there were 12 pagan gods in all: eight lesser gods, one for each of the eight races, three greater gods, and the All-Father. The temples to the old religion still existed, scattered across Arcanum. It turned out I had stumbled across the altar to the ogre god Torg who slew his errant children and devoured their hearts. In times past, ogres had sacrificed bright red rubies, symbolic of the ogre heart.

The races of Arcanum had made sacrifices to the various deities in return for gifts like strength, health, agility, and wit. The specific gift depended on the god in question; Torg for example bestowed strength and health. Professor Buxington himself admitted to having traveled to some of the temples to make sacrifices.

The mural that had so attracted me was a reproduction of Mazzerin’s mystery. Mazzerin was an elvish mystic who had studied the pagan gods 200 years ago. He had believed the gods and their powers were interwoven, and this diagram was supposed to explain how they were related. “Certain gods don’t get along with other gods, so-and-so begat so-and-so, get blessed by this fellow and that fellow curses you. That sort of thing,” explained Professor Buxley.

Most of the old temples have long been abandoned, although people still worshipped at a few. The cult of Geshtianna, goddess of love and fertility, had a temple in Stillwater. Halcyon, god of truth, still had his temple in a small village east of the Morbihan plains. And then of course there was Velorien, the All-Father. While he is no longer worshipped by that name, every major religion of Arcanum speaks of a God who watches over all, and from whom all was created.

It was all very fascinating, and a welcome distraction from the day’s events. As the conversation came to an end, Professor Buxington remembered once again that I was a half-orc and asked me to leave, and I went on my way.

I found three other professors after that. While none of them were as bad as Professor Marlin or Professor Gershwin had been, they weren’t very helpful either. Each made it clear to me one way or another that, in their opinion, the University was no place for a half-orc.

I had done enough work for one day. Feeling guilty over my argument with Virgil, I went to city hall and the hall of records to do some research on Preston Radcliffe’s ring. I always carry it with me. The only clue I had as to the identity of the ring’s owner were the initials adorning the face: “G.B.” In addition to containing historical documents, deeds, and old newspapers going back a hundred years, the hall of records contains a census of the entire population of Tarant and its allied kingdoms. I decided to see if I could find an individual in Arcanum with those initials. Of course it was futile. There were nearly a hundred such individuals in Tarant alone; I was searching for a needle in a haystack. Defeated, I went back to the Bridesdale Inn.

Virgil had done research of his own. He had found a Panarii temple and gone for a visit. He offered to tell me what he had found, but I wanted to see it for myself, so we went there together. It was a pleasant place. The priests were obviously uncomfortable around me, but they at least tried to be polite, and really, that’s all I ask of anyone. I laughed to myself as I wondered what they would think if they knew that I was supposed to be the “Living One.” I asked a priest what he could tell me about the church of the Panarii.

“Our church is based on the teachings of Nasrudin,” he said, “an elf who lived during the Age of Legends. The Age of Legends was a time between 1500 and 2000 years ago, a time when magick was a much larger part of the world than it is today, before the mages left for Tulla. It was a time of dragons and knights and kingdoms. It was the time of the Elven Council. The Elven Council was a group of elves and mages who oversaw the well-being of all of the races of Arcanum.”

So good of the elves to look after the lesser races, I thought to myself. But I kept quiet as the priest continued.

“Nasrudin was the benevolent leader of the Elven Council. For 1000 years he ruled all of Arcanum, and brought peace and prosperity to all of the races. His teachings are recorded in the sacred Archaeon, housed in the First Temple of the Panarii in Caladon. They are the cornerstone of Panarii beliefs. As head of the Elven Council, Nasrudin acted as a guide for all of the races, until the rise of Arronax and his evil followers. Nasrudin waged war, and Arronax was defeated. The Panarii Church was founded some time after that.”

Aha, I thought to myself. That must be the evil one that Virgil thinks I’m going to fight the last battle with. “Who was Arronax?” I asked.

“Arronax was an evil elf, who came into power during the Age of legends. He believed that only he and his followers were fit to rule, and decreed death to all of the races. Nasrudin, in his mercy, came to our defense and, I quote from the Archaeon, ‘…defeated Arronax, banishing him forever to the Void.’”

“Banished to the Void?”

“We’re not quite sure exactly what that means. No one is banished anymore. We believe that it took powerful magick to do so, and once banished, that person never returned. ‘The Void’ is a term used to describe where one goes when banished, but no one knows if it was even a real place. But the Archaeon speaks of it, and so we believe…”

“Was anyone else ever banished?”

The priest nodded. “The Archaeon speaks of others who suffered the same fate as Arronax. There are four who are listed by name—Gorgoth, Kraka-tur, Kerghan and the Bane of Kree. They were all evil beings, but none were so evil as Arronax. If you ever see the Archaeon, you can read more about them.”

“Is there a prophecy about Nasrudin’s return,” I asked.

The priest looked surprised. “I see you know something of our religion. Yes, it is called the prophecy of the Living One. It is written in the Archaeon that one day both Nasrudin and Arronax will return to Arcanum and fight the final battle.”

I closed my eyes and recited from memory, “And the spirit of Nasrudin shall be reborn on wings of fire in hills shrouded in fog, and fight the last battle with the evil one.” The priest looked at me with astonishment. I said apologetically, “That’s all I know. I read it once on an altar when I was travelling in the Stonewall Mountains. But how is it going to happen? Nasrudin must be dead by now.”

Yes, he’s been dead for a long time. The literal meaning of the prophecy is unknown. Some believe that they will both be reincarnated, others that the prophecy is a metaphor for something more contemporary. The truth is, we just don’t know.”

I talked a little with Virgil afterwards. I spoke carefully; he can be very sensitive about his religious beliefs. I still have no idea what to make of all this.

We went next to the cottage where Magnus was staying. He greeted us politely, and we had a long conversation about the Schuylers. Magnus told us there was an employee who worked at the store on Fridays and Saturdays, a Mr. Witherspoon. Of course Virgil and I had had no luck getting by Mr. Kingsford, but Mr. Witherspoon was new, and it sounded as though he’d be easier to intimidate. “I think he’s scared of me,” laughed Magnus. “I stared at him once as he came out of the shop, and the man just ran right past me!”

“Perhaps we could dress up as bureaucrats and try to bluff him,” I said smiling.

“Oh no you don’t!” said Magnus. “I told you, I’m not ready to join with you just yet. You seem like an honest woman, but I still think you’re a bit green. If we ever do get in and find Pelonious Schuyler and his sons, they won’t be throwing rose petals at us, that’s for sure! I’ll need someone I can trust in a fight. Don’t get me wrong! I like you, and I do wish you luck. But a dwarf always chooses his companion wisely, and I just don’t know about you.”

So that was the end of that. It was late, and I really wanted to go to the library and do some reading before it closed. I reluctantly agreed to let Virgil come along; he’s been fidgeting all night in a chair across the room from me. I’ve nearly finished Dr. Hennessey’s fine treatise on the origins of disease. It is fascinating. He writes about how scientists have been able to greatly magnify organic material, and how they’ve discovered tiny tiny animals that might actually be the source of disease. Dr. Hennessey is a professor at the University, although he is currently away on a research trip.

So I’ve been sitting here reading and thinking about what I should do next. To be honest, I’m not sure I really want to be a student at Tarant University. I mean, I respect the work that people like Dr. Hennessey are doing, but I don’t want to discover the origin of disease, I want to cure it. I don’t want to be a scholar, I want to be a doctor. I need to find a practicing physician who will apprentice me. But I need an introduction. No doctor is going to simply take me in off the street without a recommendation, so I’ve got to find a professor who will speak for me. It shouldn’t be impossible. After all, they are men of science. Well, some of them are, anyway. There must be one among them who will see beyond his prejudices, recognize my ability, and help me. Tomorrow I will see if I can find him.

April 11, 1885
The Great Library of Tarant, Afternoon

This morning on my way to the University, it occurred to me that before talking to more professors, I ought to see if I could read some of their work first. So I stopped in at the Great Library to see what I could find, and I have found a great deal indeed. Of course I had already read Dr. Hennessey’s treatise on the origins of disease. Since this morning I’ve discovered works by Benjamin Gershwin, John Marlin, Edwin Turkell, John Sebastian, and I haven’t even finished looking. I’ve spent the whole day so far reading everything I could get my hands on. I feel foolish for not having thought of this before. If I’m going to make a good impression on these professors, it can only help to know something about their work. Besides, if I had only discovered Professor Gershwin’s ridiculous tome earlier, I would have realized he was a crackpot before that dreadful meeting. Ah well, live and learn.

I’ve been spending most of my time reading Professor Marlin’s work. His interests coincide more closely with my own than any of the other professors I’ve read so far. More than anyone else at the University, he focuses on practical applied medicine. He even still sees patients, and writes it is because he never wants to forget why he studied medicine in the first place. If I were to become a student at the University, he would undoubtedly be my first choice to study under. It’s a pity that he hates me. He wouldn’t even talk to me when I approached him my first day on the campus. Perhaps I should try again. If I could corner him in his office, perhaps I could get him to listen to me.

So I want to talk to Professor Marlin and three other professors I haven’t met so far. I had better go; the afternoon is half gone already. I do feel hungry though; I haven’t had a bite to eat since breakfast. Perhaps I can get a piece of fruit from that cart I’ve seen in the park.


April 11, 1885
The Great Library of Tarant, Late at Night

I’m afraid that things have not gone at all well today. It’s been a bit of a disaster, actually. After my last diary entry, I walked straight to the University, eager to find someone who would listen to me. I found Professor Marlin in his office, seated at his desk bent over some medical book. The door was open, so I knocked to get his attention and entered. “Excuse me, professor,” I said, “Might I please have a moment of your time?”

He looked up at me and his face hardened. “I want you out of my office, half-orc”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you sir, but if I..”

“Didn’t you hear me, half-orc? The University may be foolish enough to allow your kind on the grounds, but that doesn’t mean I have to allow you into my private office. Now, do I have to call the guard?”

A lifetime of learning to control my temper served me well then, and I exited without saying another word. But I was beside myself with rage. I didn’t dare to seek out the other professors on my list, not while I was in that state. I needed something to distract me, something to make me forget what had just happened.

So I sought out the elvish theologian, Professor Buxington. He was politely rude to me at first, just like yesterday, but I knew how to approach him by now. I asked him questions about the ancient gods, and soon we were having a fascinating conversation about the pagan cults of Arcanum. He is much like that other elf I know: Gaylin, the elven healer of Shrouded Hills. She also would forget my race when she started to talk about the subject she loved.

The diversion had served its purpose. I felt collected enough now to continue my rounds. I approached three other professors and told them I was looking to study medicine. They were all horrible. I didn’t even get a chance to show them I had read their papers. One of them told me that if I was really interested in honest work appropriate to my station, the University might have an opening for a cleaning lady.

By now I was terribly discouraged. I’d run out of people to talk to. Of course the school was not in session, and several professors were away, but for the moment I was at a loss as to what to do next. Besides, I was ravenously hungry. I hadn’t eaten anything except for that apple since breakfast. It was time to go. Still I hesitated. Perhaps I should try approaching Professor Marlin one more time. I decided to leave a letter on his desk in hopes he might read it.

As I approached his office, I heard voices coming from inside. One of the voices was Professor Marlin himself; he was angry about something but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Someone else was laughing. The door to the office was ajar, so I crept up close and eavesdropped. In retrospect, I wish that I had not.

The laughter was coming from Professor Gershwin, the phrenologist. “Really John,” he was saying, “You have no sense of humor. It’s quite funny, actually”

Professor Marlin harrumphed.

A third voice joined in, “Are you two talking about that half-orc who’s been coming to the school? I saw her in the hallway just this morning; I mistook her for a lady at first. Everyone’s been talking about her; I’ve heard she’s come here every day this week. Who is she, anyway?”

“She’s a half-orc girl who wants to be a doctor!” said Professor Gershwin jovially.

“She’s a menace,” said Professor Marlin, “I can’t imagine why they allow creatures like that on this campus”

“Oh come now, John, she’s harmless,” Professor Gershwin replied. “She allowed me to do an examination of her skull. The prefrontal lobes are underdeveloped; that’s quite common among her kind, I’m afraid”

The third voice interrupted. “Hang on a minute, back up! Did you just say she wants to be a doctor?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Professor Gershwin. “She told me she wants to study medicine. I’ve asked around, and it turns out she’s talked to at least three of our colleagues. Evidently she’s been going around asking anyone in the medical department she thinks will listen to her”

The third voice was laughing now. “A half-orc doctor? That’s priceless! I thought Don was pulling my leg. He told me she walked into his office, marched up to him bold as you please, and told him she wanted to be a medical student. Where on earth does she come from?”

“She must have passed for human as a child,” Professor Gershwin replied. “You can tell that from her speech and her dress. The poor dear probably thinks she’s human!” he said chuckling. “My guess is she wants to belong, to be part of human society, so she’s developed this fixation. Of course it’s completely impossible given her mental deficiency. It’s a little sad, actually”

Professor Marlin snorted. “You’re a soft-hearted idiot, Ben. That thing may dress like a lady but it’s a monster; there’s no telling when it could lash out and maul someone. The University shouldn’t allow creatures like that on this campus”

I didn’t hear anything more after that. I walked away quickly, found an empty classroom, and hid until I could stop crying. Thank goodness no one saw me; I couldn’t bear it if someone saw me like that. When I had composed myself, I exited the University and walked through the park to the City Hall and the office of records. At the office of records, I found a listing of doctors who practice in the city. I wrote down three names, and I shall approach them tomorrow. Evidently my plan to secure a recommendation from some professor is not going to work. I’ll have to find some doctors and talk to them without a reference and do the best I can.

I didn’t feel like eating anything after that. I didn’t feel like doing much of anything, actually. So I went back to the library, I found a book and a chair that faced the wall, and I sat down and started reading. I’ve been sitting here reading ever since. I’ve been here for hours. It’s very late. Virgil must be terribly worried by now. I really must get back to the inn.

So this was a difficult day, but that doesn’t change anything, not really. After all, I’d already decided that I didn’t want to study medicine at the University. I shall just have to focus my attention on finding a doctor who will apprentice me. Of course it will be more difficult now without a proper reference, but I’m certainly not about to give up. After all, I never thought this would be easy.

Dear God, I have got to pull myself together.