The Wheelwright's Apprentice by James Burnett Page B

me do a couple myself.” It was rapidly becoming obvious that all Art had to do was to say a single word now and then just to prove he was listening. “Now this man,” Garmgo said as he waved his hand in the direction of a shrouded figure, “is an excellent specimen. Let’s look at him first.” So saying he whipped off the covering sheet, and there was a naked corpse underneath. The corpse was of a strong man, and therin e were several wounds in his arms and shoulder and one livid one across his neck.
    “Here we are,” Garmgo rattled on. “One of my jobs is to determine the cause of death. Right now that’s not your concern, and anyway this one not only looks pretty obvious but there were lots of witnesses. It was the result of a tavern brawl. Here hold this.” Garmgo handed a funny looking knife to Art. “Now come over here,” He was told, and Art walked over to another shroud which Garmgo removed as he arrived there. He was hit immediately with an overpowering stench and he could see that the body beneath was heavily discoloured and very bloated. Garmgo told Art, “Stand here and give me that knife.” Garmgo immediately stabbed the bloated corpse with it and a spray of smelly sticky unidentifiable fluids hit Art full in the face. There were some laughs and chuckles as two men came into view clapping. Garmgo observed, “Now that is the worst thing that can happen to you here. Things can only get better from now on! Hurry up, go and change and come back.” One of the men who had been clapping earlier handed him a striped bag while Garmgo told him, “Put your clothes in this bag before you take it to the laundry.”
    Art was still in shock and at last managed to blurt out an incoherent screech. He then simply turned and ran out.
    Half an hour and a bath and a scrub later he was back.
    “One day you will thank me for that. Bad experiences bring out strong emotions and memories, and they can become a strong impetus for you to focus your Will. Now let’s get back to the original cadaver.”
    The two men from before now came over and one said, “We hope you enjoyed your initiation. We went through one like it too. It sort of makes things easier afterwards! I am Wingo, and this is Horam.”
    They all walked over to the first table with the tavern brawler on it, and Garmgo said, “There are two things I need you to do, first take a really good look at the corpse. His relatives will want him looking at least as good as this after I have worked on him, and you are going to have to repair him later. This is a lesson too; Will your memory to work, so I don’t have to repeat myself again tomorrow!” Garmgo paused and then said, “If you can’t do that, I’ll have to spray you with some more unmentionable stuff.”
    Art swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, then dryly said, “I believe I have done that.”
    Garmgo chuckled and said, “See! Your earlier experience has come in useful already!”
    Art settled down to watch while Garmgo expertly dissected the cadaver, pointing out every little visible anatomical detail and telling Art what each was for. Veins, lungs and other internal organs were professionally displayed. He kept up a droning commentary which Art never found the need to interrupt. It was both repelling and fascinating at the same time. Horam, who was a thin dark haired man, hovered over the scene and handed Garmgo all the various tools he needed without a word ever being spoken.
    Lunch came, but Art had no appetite and went instead to calm himself at a cloister where there was a tree and a few shrubs garnished with a smattering of flowers. It wasn’t exactly a work of art, but it was a lot more soothing than what he had been looking at that morning. The ambience allowed him to reach a state where he was able to face returning. The afternoon was more of the same. A flash anatomy course that was drilled into his psyche by a spell he had set on himself. Being squirted with rotten body fluids