III

  More Questions and Answers

  Breathing in deeply, I wiped my face and turned on my phone torch at the entrance. The darkness swallowed the beam.

  Imagine my surprise when Dr. Aliozor didn’t stop there. I followed him past the porch, past the yard of our hosts’ compound, outside. At once my mind betrayed me—images of those great Kanevorian beasts, bounding through the bushes toward us, jaws wet with hunger. Too easy, too ready, that imagination of mine.

  Shaking dust particles from my footwear, I pointed my torch this way and that, reacting to sound almost as much as the dark. It was soon obvious Dr. Aliozor planned on continuing without the uncle. When he had decided this, I didn’t know. My guess was that time he’d asked for directions to the clinic and the nurse’s house. Or much earlier, when he’d said to be discreet. That’s the reason he’d used Mr. Peter as a pretext to dismiss the keke rider. And I wasn’t at all sure why. It couldn’t be because Mr. Peter had thought him less competent than ‘Dr. Bernard’. In all, it seemed we’d still need a guide. Perhaps he’d give Mr. Peter our location later.

  Another, more sinister, thought struck me as I brought up this point with Dr. Aliozor. What if we were abandoning them entirely? Eunice seated on her chair, crying out, formed in my mind. Perhaps Dr. Aliozor had experienced some—

  “No, I won’t,” he said, the white strands of his hair shimmering each time the beam passed over him. He stopped in the middle of the path.

  I glanced back, thinking someone might be coming up behind us. Mr. Peter? We hadn’t gotten that far from Ebuka’s home. No one was there.

  This area didn’t stand out from other areas we’d passed. The houses with their wan lighting; the voices: high-pitched, joking, serious, man, woman, adult, child; the chirping of critters in the green; the splashing of water; the smell of smoke and firewood and food and…and urine? The last was so faint, I brushed it off as imagination.

  Bringing his bag to the front like it weighed nothing, Dr. Aliozor told me to point my torch as he brought out two containers from its smaller compartment. He handed the larger of the containers to me. “Open.”

  Don’t order me. With some thrill, I plunged us into darkness for a while, unwinding the lid.

  He dipped the other bottle, a slim one containing clear fluid with a green cover, into a pocket. “I appreciate why you’re asking,” he said, slinging his bag back over his shoulder and pulling at his shirt. “We don’t have anyone to introduce us to Father Ama…”

  I had an inkling why he was important.

  “…or show us Nurse Azuka’s house. But the cost of having the uncle with us far outweighs these benefits. There are discussions we couldn’t have, experiments we couldn’t perform in his presence…”

  Like this one?

  “…So, he will remain in that house for a good while,” he said, bringing the blood sample out of his pocket.

  Expendable.

  That word came to mind, with images of the gaunt-faced woman and her brother. Mr. Peter who I had given assurances. Even Nkiru. Thoughts of how Dr. Aliozor had trapped Mr. Peter vanished. Not that the how had ever mattered to me.

  He uncorked the bottle and poured some into the container.

  Like my classmate he’d impersonated, like Onyeka, Ebuka’s uncle had been cast away after serving his purpose. How much longer would I last? I thought, itching in my sticky clothes.

  What Mr. Peter must be going through, ‘abandoned’ by the very people he put his hope in. Was the man screaming our names into the dark this very moment, cursing? Had his sister, Ebuka’s mother, stopped her own shouting?

  Conversely, he could be worrying silly about us. Maybe he was making calls. I should have obtained his phone number. Though it didn’t matter—Dr. Aliozor wouldn’t have overlooked other means the man might reach the outside world. Like the boys from earlier. What did he do to them?

  We weren’t abandoning Eunice and Peter in the other way I’d feared, at least. But, it was more imperative now that we succeed.

  “Seal and shake,” he said, having returned the sample and done the same with the bottle of clear fluid. It layered atop the blood.

  An image of oil and water formed in my head, and a saying: blood is thicker than water. My next act of defiance fell flat, Dr. Aliozor opting to hold my phone before I could pocket it a second time. Disrespecting him didn’t seem worth the satisfaction I’d get.

  Light shining, I shook the container. I can’t say I had any expectations. I’ve participated in more than my fair share of science experiments in the past. Also, my mind wasn’t at peace with the most recent events, so… I just shook the bottle. Maybe he wanted a more even mixture, I might have thought.

  The clear fluid swallowing the red, the container began weighing less the more I shook. I slowed down, the sweat and stickiness on my body more apparent. It had vapourised into an off-white gas pressing against the bottle. Was he expecting this? It came out of my mouth as “What just happened?”

  Wordlessly, he clicked the phone’s power button, then put out his hand. Eyes on my device (7:15 pm) I collected it and returned the container. I wiped myself down as we soldiered on, kicking out more dirt particles. When would he address my—?

  “When a Kanevorian child is born, its father rips across the neck…”

  That generations of the innocent still suffered for the sin of the guilty.

  “…Like this.” He drew an imaginary line across his neck. “The injury must be life threatening enough to initiate formation of characteristics–blending in with their surroundings, sense of smell–suited to the two seasons of that land, a season for warring and the other for birthing. The first of those properties is—”

  His direction was as plain as day. “The skin,” I said.

  “And fur.”

  I looked at him. “If they hadn’t transfused him that time…” Then glanced away as soon as he glanced back.

  “We cannot know that. But yes, in this case, that transfusion reaction was the catalyst. Like an autoimmune response, his body is going to attack its non-Kanevorian parts.”

  What parts, and which would get spared? The mainstay of therapy for autoimmune conditions is immunosuppression supported by infection prevention/treatment, management of symptoms, and general supportive care. We had already begun all four in some form, with positive results; how far would they really go in this kid’s alien biology? And this wasn’t even considering the cost of some treatments. Could the Hebevorians help us out in any way?

  Some animal skittered across the path as we took a turn. It might have been a lizard. A child was crying at the top of its lungs in one house, its mother screaming to quiet down or else. The smell of faeces wafted in our direction from somewhere else. My mind noted all this and more in some small part of it. The part, I presume, wondering if Dr. Aliozor actually knew the way to wherever he had in mind. For me, mastering directions takes time.

  The rest of my mind was on the discussion we were having. This wasn’t at all the same as trying to find out the inner workings of magic. Hence, I had no problem taking part in it. Another thing, the discussion showed where Dr. Aliozor’s mind was, and that boded well for him taking the case, if he hadn’t already. I put forward my concerns about Ebuka’s treatment with greater fervour.

  “An allogeneic bone marrow transplant may be our best bet,” he said. “Even with its risks.”

  Two came off the top of my head. Graft versus host disease, where the donor immune cells attack the host. Rejection, which is the inverse of GVHD.

  “I do not know by how much we’d have to suppress his immune system. I suspect his Kanevorian genes will do that for us, if they’re not already. If not, I don’t know how effective any of the existing agents will be.” He paused, considering.

  I knew how those words frustrated him. The conservative ethos has reigned for almost the last hundred years among Doctor-Magicians: that Magic should serve by advancing scientific understanding. That its power was best expressed through research and technology. Magic through Science. It took the pandemic for the Magic Unchained folks to regain some power. As such, magic as magic has made little progress in treating illness than it might have otherwise.

  “We will battle that when we get there. Let us kill two birds with one stone and get him a donor.”

  I grunted in agreement.

  “To your other question… In some parts, the Hebevorians know no more than the things I’m telling you. For instance, they know only the claws, spikes, and teeth of a Kanevorian can cut through Kanevorian skin. In other areas, they know even less. They do not know there is another reason for ripping the child’s neck. Blood. Kanevorian blood is said to contain biological markers from both parents. Personal markers and clan markers, picked up by scent…”

  What sort of markers were those? The human body has its own markers: cancer markers specific to parts of the body; markers used to assess inflammation; BNP for the heart… None of them give blood a scent. I let my imagination run: well, perhaps they do, but our sense of smell isn’t refined enough to pick it up. The markers Dr. Aliozor was referring to here made Kanevorian blood almost DNA-like. I couldn’t describe the smell of human blood, let alone imagine blood having scent specific to a person.

  “…You can appreciate its importance in a land where war is the norm.”

  I pulled at my clothing again, uncomfortable. It was… a lot. Not as much as two years back when Onyeka and I got mixed up in all this. I’d wind back the hands of the clock if I could. No more Dr. Aliozor. Onyeka wouldn’t have gone missing. I wouldn’t be here. Then who’d fight for Ebuka?

  I was sorting through the things Dr. Aliozor had just said, questions about Eunice and what became of her blood in the container still on my mind when he spoke again.

  “During the season of offspring, Kanevorians who wish to mate master the scent of their beloved, body and blood,” he said, twisting the cover of the container open.

  Guiltily, my thoughts circled back to Ebuka’s mother. Must be why her blood was important. Not that she was Kanevorian or any— She was psychotic. Was it medical or something more? Could we do anything about it?

  Tendrils rose from the mass in the container, flagella like filaments snaking upwards then branching out across the air. They were not borne by any wind, directionless (there was no wind so to speak); the tendrils moved like they knew where they were headed.

  “It is still the blood of the boy’s mother, but now only a sense of smell more powerful than our own can detect it. To—"

  “So, you think that…” I started, still watching the tendrils, then clamped my mouth shut at once. “Sorry.”

  “I was saying that to a Kanevorian, the clan’s prestige and survival are the greatest goods.”

  “Okay…chief,” I said, prying the latter word from deep inside. “From what I understand, Ebuka’s father is Kanevorian… You suspect that he somehow came to Earth and is hiding here somewhere, and blood in this form…” I waved my free hand in the air. “…will lead us to him.”

  He shook his head and twirled his left hand as we took another turn. The village remained the same: its scenery, sounds, and smells. The tendrils of gas branching out, their motion changed; they swirled as long as his hand twirled. He was the one directing the branches. He’d probably been coaxing all this while.

  “It would be more effective, wouldn’t it? Neither Ebuka nor his mother’s blood will lead us to the father by itself. Blood is living but not that living. If, however, he perceives either, he should come running. At least we hope it’s him and not another clan member, with regard to the boy’s blood. Going back to the father… If he’s still alive, if he’s still here in this village, in this state, country, world; if the scent of their blood gets to him in time, he should be here.”

  The word time echoed. We had a deadline, it said. Though I checked the time (7:34) the space in my head for calculating how much of my own deadline remained was in use.

  Surely those weren’t the only three draw backs Dr. Aliozor had identified? For one, there was no guarantee Ebuka’s father had observed the rites of his land on earth. How would he even go about obtaining Eunice’s blood? And the child, the man wasn’t present at his son’s birth. There were also questions about how he’d interact with the community. Would he attack the villagers or head straight for his wife? Did he know she was in that condition? Who would he blame?

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Dr. Aliozor had some other plan in the works. This was greatly reinforced by his answers to my questions, his exact words echoing in my head. A Naturalist who is friends with Brother Wind would spread the scent faster, ideally. He hadn’t found one on such short notice, and he doubted any would have agreed; Naturalists need assurances that whatever one is doing won’t harm nature. Until one could be convinced (a colleague was helping) he’d bypass that by Relocating to different places himself.

  I could be of use here; that thought was mine.

  He was comfortable assuming Ebuka’s father had kept to the Birthing season traditions of his land. Being absent at Ebuka’s birth wouldn’t affect his ability to detect the markers in the boy’s blood, if present. Concerning the villagers’ safety, he said he could cast a magical perimeter around the village, Replicate the village on the Copy plane, then Invert Ebuka’s dad or the villagers into the replica; Doctor Magicians often used this during conflict to limit or prevent destruction.

  But it was more his non-answers that set alarms ringing. They didn’t pass the smell test. My suspicions would get confirmed some fourty to fourty five minutes later. After eight. But the time in between was like a slow descent into madness. It had to do with unmet expectations. Dr. Aliozor would tell me his plan soon, I told myself as seconds became minutes, and the minutes piled on themselves. Or he’d give me believable answers. Soon. He was silent all the while, focused on his experiment as we went this way and that.

  In the intervening silence, the time range I’d set earlier took on greater significance. Hadn’t we spent enough time with Eunice’s blood already? Just as we were preparing a second mixture with her blood, the first finished. Irritation growing, I did everything from blocking the beam when I checked the time to setting an alarm for 8 to saying aloud how much time was left to draw his attention.

  My body sensed my irritation. Feet growing worn. Suddenly, I was itching too often for comfort. Striking flesh where I thought an insect had landed. I caught none, though.

  My thoughts hopped around like a cricket, not staying in any one place for long. New and old things. Ebuka and his family, human and Kanevorian. Onyeka. What Dr. Aliozor’s other plan might look like.

  There were times I thought we must be invisible. The first time, rooted to a spot, I turned off the beam the second I heard voices and footsteps approaching. “People are coming,” I managed to growl out to someone who was paying me no mind. I confirmed this when those people, two men with alcohol on their breath, walked past us like we weren’t there, torchlight ablaze. Dr. Aliozor was some distance in front of me. They must be drunk. The counter to blaming magic until it happened the second time when I put my hand out in front, as both a test and to get a reaction from Dr. Aliozor, then a third. After that, I just let the beam be.

  So, there I was, sticky, another bike-rider driving past us with his own headlights on when Dr. Aliozor received a call. I took the container in my left hand as he retrieved his phone. Had he deliberately ignored me the times I’d called?

  He put the call on speaker. That’s how I knew it was important. Meaning that my phone call earlier had been unimportant, I thought pettily.

  “Doctor Chris… Doctor Chris, we can’t hear you clearly.” Muffle and static sounded in the background.

  Damn network! Useless government! Ignoring an itch, my hopes rose. My network was still at 2G, but it couldn’t hurt if we tried it, right? I was going to suggest this when there was a crackle, Dr. Chris’ voice booming through. Who was he?

  “…Can you hear me? Can you hear me? Can—”

  Had my hands been free, I’d have blocked my ears, so loud was his voice.

  “Yes, we can. But could you bring down your voice?”

  He replied several seconds later. “Okay. But you can hear me?”

  Could you just get to whatever it is before we stop hearing you again?

  Dr. Aliozor replied, “Yes.”

  “Good. Chief Doctor Aliozor. Chief Doctor Aliozor,” he repeated with some gusto. “I’ve actually been trying to reach you for the last fifteen minutes, but it kept saying it couldn’t place the call. I even sent a message… I don’t know if you received it.”

  Dr Aliozor said, “No,” at the same time he said, “Network is poor there…”

  Wiping sweat from his face, Dr. Aliozor replied in the affirmative then cut straight to the chase. “Any success on either end?”

  Was this the colleague he spoke of?

  Again, delay. “Chief, am I on speaker?” He asked, voice crackling. Men’s voices and footsteps had been drawing nearer since the delay.

  Why hadn’t he noticed this earlier?!

  “Yes. Because I want my companion here to hear everything. But don’t fret, Doctor Chris. We’re under a magical perimeter—”

  “…You’re Replicating and Inverting.”

  “Yes, partially. It’s why you can hear the sounds.”

  No time to wonder at all of that. Dr. Chris’ reply was more muffled sounds than actual words. I slapped a spot on my arm with my phone. Annoying insects. Useless network. Couldn’t they use magic to—?

  “…matches with one clan out of the… almost… known, Clan Khorai,” he blurted.

  “Doctor Chris we didn’t get what you said.”

  “I…he matches with Clan Khorai. And your plan could work, preferably a sibling—”

  “Let me worry about getting the donor, Chris. I want to know about the needle. Will it work? How soon can it be ready? And the Naturalist.”

  What needle?

  The network continued to be unstable. “Yes… I have started work on it. My only issue will… sterilizing it… sort it out. When do you need it?”

  He looked at his watch. “Let’s give it three hours…”

  Is that the reason he wasn’t worried, he had his own deadline? He’d extended mine by about three hours. The time was twenty after eight.

  “…We’ll meet up at the hospital. But if I’m not back in two hours…”

  A lot of their conversation flew over my head. Back from where? Why was he using I? What would prevent his return? What would happen to Ebuka, his mother and uncle trapped in that house if he didn’t come back? It was difficult to imagine any harm coming to him. I’d have interrupted except I didn’t know how long this poor connection would last.

  “…contact my companion and the College. Finish the case.”

  This was serious. There is no love lost between Dr. Aliozor and the College. It had to do with that last case. I sometimes question how he plans to be a full-fledged Doctor-Magician, given his clashes with superiors.

  “It’s good… brought up… College. If the child survives… can’t continue… usual life…Also still work…the Naturalist.” The line hissed, then went dead.

  “Doctor Chris? Doctor Chris? Network.”

  This time it didn’t cross my mind to suggest using my phone to try Dr. Chris. Chest tight, I emptied my footwear again, waiting. When he stopped redialling Dr. Chris and put his phone in his pocket, I spoke. “You’re going somewhere else?”

  He stopped.

  Thank God. I stooped, legs crying out. Plastic surgery and Cardiology ground ward rounds often bring similar results, taking you round the hospital. When I straightened after a while, I aimed the beam as he fished out of the largest compartment of his bag… a metallic spike the length of a grown-man’s forearm if it stood straight (it was curved) and as thick too.

  The image of those spikes flying towards Dr. Aliozor, Onyeka, and I became prominent in my mind. I focused on the spike when we resumed walking and he started addressing me. How was he carrying that thing? It’s supposed to be damn heavy.

  “Ebuka’s father came from their land to Earth somehow. We don’t have time to figure that out. However, I can Relocate to the land of the Kanevorians using this spike. It’s specific to their land, as far as we know, and it seems the more it decomposes, it grows weaker, more susceptible to magic, so I can coax it. It serves the same function of having the image of the location and other details fixed in the mind when Relocating. My colleague is using two others like it to construct needles capable of piercing Kanevorian skin—”

  “But the decay.”

  “Kanevorians decompose slowly, so it should still have strength enough, we think.”

  What would my role in all this be? It was on the tip of my tongue. But some patience wouldn’t hurt. I needed to take my emotions with a firm hand. “So, we’re abandoning this part of the plan altogether?” Perhaps he’d tell me that part of the investigation would fall to me.

  “There’s a higher probability we’d get a donor, and faster, in the Kanevorian lands. A donor who may well not be his father.”

  He didn’t answer the way I wanted. It also raised other questions. Why not initiate the new plan sooner if it was more probable to succeed? Why waste all that time? He might have wanted to be hundred percent certain… Except he was more risky than cautious. What was he hiding? Some time elapsed. When I spoke again, the emotion in my voice was loud and clear. “And what will I be doing?”

  “By chance, can you communicate with Kanevorians?” He asked.

  I glanced at him.

  He held my eyes. “Perhaps you have some secret skill that may help us there.”

  Only Onyeka had been present. Feet pounding on hard ground, lungs burning. One of the beasts gaining on us, the other tearing at Dr. Aliozor. Please, God, don’t let us die. The thought came even as a torrent of spikes flew towards us. Suddenly light. We were in a different place from where we’d been before. A rift opening, the air itself breaking. The Hebevorians stepped through, answering a magic I didn’t know I had called. Magic of great need had drawn them, they said…

  He couldn’t know. He must never know.

  A professional non-magician, that’s what I was. One of those in the profession who stumble upon magic by accident, knows they can do magic but are untrained, undisciplined. “One-trick wonders,” Dr. Aliozor calls them. They might produce brilliant feats when the need arises, but without training there wouldn’t be effectiveness or mastery. More often than not, they cause as much trouble as the non-professionals. Most, to do good. It was just too tempting to have such power and not use it.

  I had sworn off using these powers intentionally. I would resist the temptation. Right? The word hypocrite stood out like stubborn weeds in my mind, comfortable to let others use powers when it benefitted me. “No,” I said, breaking eye contact. “But… how do I know you don’t have something else planned?” How can I trust you? seemed harsh.

  “This has to do with Onyeka, doesn’t it? We can relitigate that when I return. If I return. For now, you’re just going to have to trust that we’re on the same page about Ebuka surviving. Look, the fact remains that I’m putting my life on the line by merely going there. There are too many unknowns. We don’t know their current season, nor can we tell how time passes there. We know their strength but have no idea of other qualities. Intelligence, cunning… It’s too dangerous…”

  Yeah. As if danger had ever stopped him using people before.

  “…Doctor-Magicians aren’t invincible or infallible. How will I ensure another’s safety when I can’t ensure mine? And I don’t want to have to face another Ethics Committee. I don’t want another family to wonder what became of their child…”

  That gave me pause.

  “…So, I’ll go alone. If I’m not back in two hours, Doctor Chris takes over. He’s also working on getting a Naturalist. In case you’re wondering what’s in it for him aside saving the child, I have agreed to share case points with him. I will Relocate back if I sense Ebuka breaking out of the time barrier, whether it’s up to two hours or not. Hopefully, we get more time than that. We must also keep in mind that our plan is more likely to fail than to succeed. Doesn’t mean we won’t try. Again, If we succeed, this child’s life will likely never return to what he considers normal. I doubt he’ll remain in this village. You, you’ll be of greater use here…”

  Always back to utility with him. The thought replaced the scenarios my mind was building. Success, when the once downcast faces of his grandmother and uncle would be all smiles, dancing. Failure, when I’d avoid them like the plague, lost for words, and the difficult task of breaking bad news would fall to my senior colleague. Telling Ebuka and his relatives they couldn’t live with each other.

  “…Their minds have been tampered with, the grandmother, Eunice, perhaps Nkiru and Peter. Though the uncle has given me no reason to suspect him. Everything he said seems to follow.”

  I could believe that of Ebuka’s mother. Medical or magical, I was yet to decide. His grandmother, however… How could he tell? I tried to keep my voice plain when I asked.

  “Do you remember when your memory was modified?”

  Two years ago, the Anatomist I’d talked about earlier. “Yes,” I said. Did he mean—?

  “Did you know your memory had been modified?”

  I shook my head. No, I hadn’t known. He and Onyeka had had to convince me.

  “Here, someone or something badly modified their memories. Think of it like bad suturing. The thing underneath the suturing, in this instance, a memory or memories. They might still be intact, destroyed, or possibly be part of the things sutured together. But more importantly, the suturing was badly done. If you probe enough, it breaks down. How she acted was a sort of defense mechanism because she sensed something was wrong there. The work of a non-professional.”

  “Their village nurse.” This again. People tampering with things they didn’t understand. If she’d had—?

  “Perhaps. It could be external. Before we involve the College, let’s try to get to the bottom of it. It might closely link with our case. My plan was to question the parish priest about the family, especially the grandmother, her type of person, Peter,” (he signed to show he was neither here nor there with Peter) “and nurse Azuka. About the birth too. That seems to be our dividing line. Then proceed to Nurse Azuka’s house. But since you’ll be taking over from here, you could go straight to her house. This way.” He pointed to the path branching off from the road we were on. “See if you can get her to tell us the truth of Ebuka’s birth…”

  I chuckled inside. I’d say: I know you tampered with Eunice and her mother’s minds though I have no proof; You’re going to tell me why.

  “…Make sure she understands it’s life or death for Ebuka. Don’t fear. Non-professionals rarely have the mastery, knowledge or skill, to do harm by themselves…”

  Our last case came to mind. The man had dabbled. But dark, other-worldly forces had worked the curses. Evil entities. Was that the case here? I didn’t let myself think how I might defend myself. He doesn’t know. Turning back wasn’t an option.

  He seemed to have read my mind. “…Magical entities, such as the one in the case last year, are not incompetent. They’d have done worse to the parties involved, or they would have done a better job with the memories…”

  Unless they had no skill with memories or had little time.

  “…Kanevorians seem to be the lone magical entity involved here. During my research, nothing suggested they manipulate the mind…”

  Then what had broken Eunice’s mind before she returned home?

  “…This is a case, I suspect, of incompetence rather than maleficence. Be confident.”

  “I think your plan is fine.” One, Fr. Ama was least likely to be a victim of magic and could sense a wrongness where magic might be involved. As long as he was holy. Could that offer me any extra protection? Two, he could give directions to the nurse’s house. But how would I get him to listen to me? If only someone hadn’t gotten rid of Mr. Peter.

  Dr. Aliozor accompanying me as far as the parish house would be a long shot due to the time factor. Also, he may not want to interact with the priest. I could ask him for pointers on how to get Fr. Ama to listen, but my pride didn’t let me. Dr. Aliozor knew how important the task was. He’d give me pointers if he felt I needed them. But his mind might be elsewhere. Like other men, Doctor Magicians forgot things too.

  Couldn’t Dr. Chris have waited until we finished these interrogations before calling?

  “Okay. Let’s prepare a mixture for Ebuka before I leave.”

  When we were through, he took the container with Eunice’s mixture from me but handed over her blood sample. In case. Dr. Chris had samples of all the rest. He’d given him my number. Cleaning his face, dusting his trousers and footwear, he said, “Well, it’s time we were off then.”

  We—?

  I just had enough time to grip my phone tight as my body suddenly being vacuumed then compressed into something (somewhere?) consumed me entirely.

  A Doctor-Magician who specializes in nature.