The Bone-Setter's Daughter

Chapter 4

*AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was deeply unsatisfied with the second half of chapter 4, and decided to re-write and re-upload it. If you read this chapter prior to the night of 11/28/22, please re-read the from the point that Mayet and her father finish their visit with Old Neferu. Thank you! * 

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I hold an old woman's wrist, her thin skin like aged papyrus between my fingers. Her bulging blue veins roll when I apply pressure to them, but that is not what holds my attention. Her blood hums, the sound muted beneath the skin, but there, nonetheless. My fingers tingle.

"Focus, Mayet."

I blink, and realize that my father has been waiting for me to answer his question.

"There are twenty-two channels in the body. They convey air, tears, saliva, mucus, sexual fluids, urine, nutriment, and feces. A blockage in any of the channels will cause sickness," I reply.

The old woman smiles at my father, the creases of her skin folding around her kind eyes until they almost disappear.

"Your daughter has a good memory," she compliments him, and my father spares her a smile.

"Thank you, for allowing her to assist in your treatment," my father replies, and the woman chuckles.

"If the young ones don't learn, who will be the wabaus of tomorrow?"

My father nods, and then turns back to me. "Palpitate her pulse, and listen closely. Tell me if there are any signs of blockage."

I nod, and follow his instruction. I lean my head close to her wrist, and close my eyes to focus on the soft thump-thump-thumping of the vein beating against my fingertips.

The music grows louder.

I do not feel an interruption in the pulse. Rather, I hear an interruption in the woman's melody. The reed flute is off key. Every few notes, there is a grating, screeching sound. I wince and frown, but follow the flow of blood through her body's channels to the site of the blockage.

I could reach out with my magic, could pluck just a few little strings, and unleash the tether that binds the woman's channel. It is so very tempting...

But I cannot.

I pull myself back, out of the blockage, out of the channels, and try to focus on her pulse, like an ordinary wabau.

I hate it.

"Her heart, Papa," I say, after a moment, releasing my grip on the old woman's wrist.

She chuckles. "I am seventy-two, young one. There has been a blockage there for quite some time now. Your esteemed father prevents it from getting worse, but I do not believe anyone can completely cure the ailments of the elderly."

I could.

I bite my tongue to hold the words back.

My father tries and fails to mask his pride in me. The expression makes me feel warm all over, in spite of my frustration over my inability to use the blood-magic the gods have blessed me with.

"Now, what treatment should we prescribe?" my father asks.

I'll reach into her blood and remove the blockage, I think, but do not say. "We say an incantation, and prescribe a diet of lean meats, vegetables, and grain. No oils, no sweets," I reply.

The old woman chuckles again. Her smile reveals teeth that are severely worn from the sand that inevitably winds up in every loaf of bread in Egypt. "Child, the last pleasures I have in life are honeyed dates and sugar cane stalks. If the blockage takes me, it takes me."