The Mariner

Patient Number 0020644

Name: John Doe

Welcomed the new patient today. As I suspected his problem is alcoholism, and a severe case at that. I don’t believe I’ve seen a case of this disease so advanced, at least mentally. I can only deduce that he found a significant quantity on his journeys to fuel it thus-far. Pity that he must have run out (giving him reason to dock at Sighisoara), otherwise he might have had something to trade, though I maintain payment will not be necessary in his case. I feel partially responsible for his near lynching in town and curing his illness is the least I can do for the man. Besides, alcoholism responds quickly to the treatment, I’m sure this will be an open and shut case.

I have explained the treatment and given him his first dose. As expected, the medication has been well received by his system — no signs of side-effects or illness.

Rebecca seems to have taken kindly to him and I suggested he accompany her into town later to witness self-administration. Hopefully this will reinforce his understanding of how the treatment works. I made sure he had a dose to take if he decides to drink, which I’m sure he will, Rebecca will see to it.

It is a pity that his addiction is so straight forward. He seems a mysterious man and I was hoping for a more complex psychological profile. Sadly, this is not the case. I will have to simply be satisfied with curing him.

T.

15. ADDICTION APLENTY

SIGHISOARA USED NO CURRENCY. GOODS were the only trade worth-while and no coin could be relied upon to accurately represent their worth. For that reason each player at the gambling den negotiated for chips at the start of the game. Rebecca had brought along a collection of paper-back books she’d collected. The Mariner watched her argue with the croupier, pushing for higher price tags to be attributed to each. Some she accepted, others she refused to back down on, returning the items to her satchel with a grunt of disappointment.

When she returned to the Mariner, a large collection of chips were clasped in her hand. “There was a time when I was so addicted to the thrill of gambling that I would have accepted any price,” she whispered. “They knew this of course and I got ripped off every time. Ass-holes. But you must know what it’s like?”

“I must?”

“Of course. Haven’t you come across someone who’d become aware of your addiction and taken advantage of it? Someone who saw your weakness and exploited all you were worth?”

The Mariner had. Absinth Alcott had made promises of limitless alcohol, littered about the ocean in secret stashes known only to him. The Mariner also remembered how little of Absinth the devils had left behind.

The chips Rebecca had been given were misshapen coins of various sizes, each battered, chipped and twisted. Some were small and bright, reflecting the candlelight like a thief’s dream. Others were large dull and tarnished, the once noble visages now no more than framed potatoes. Letters of languages he recognised (and some he didn’t), were crammed around the rims denoting worth that no longer applied. Only one similarity united the coins into two categories: some were silver and some were bronze. Rebecca explained that each silver coin represented five of the bronze.

A few of those bronze coins were thrown into a small pot on the far side of the table and drinks were hastily placed on in front of the two visitors. Whiskey. Perfect.

The Mariner reached out an eager hand, but Rebecca seized his wrist.

“Medication first; otherwise all this is pointless.”