He follows.

"...Should've asked if you were a person," he mutters. "Sorry, funny thing."

The lizard thing gives a vague impression of a shrug. It doesn't particularly seem to be glaring anymore.

They pass a lot of people on the street who don't seem to be obviously sick with anything, plus a few people who do. The girl leads him into a complex with a courtyard. Naturally, the courtyard is full of people, most of whom seem to be injured or ill in some way. Several of them stare, but nobody disturbs them. Past the courtyard there's a building that appears to be some sort of hospital, judging from the sheer number of bodies on cots inside. The stench is worse here. 

She leads him to a woman who's re-bandaging what looks like an infected wound. They have some sort of conversation, and the woman selects a different patient, one who's suffering from something that causes boils and fever.

The girl looks at Mahan expectantly.

And now she doesn't have any microorganisms within an inch of the wound. And for good measure he checks for all the diseases he knows how to recognize: colds, rabies, caralendar pox, distemper...

Nothing he does results in the wound closing itself or any necrotic flesh coming back to life. Back home everyone would know not to expect anything immediately visible from a death mage doctor but who knows how much or little these people know.

The woman sighs, but she bandages the wound up. She motions to another row of patients, can he help any of those?

He starts with the ones with the convenient pustules because it's a pretty good bet that the species living in them is the species causing the problem. The rashes don't disappear but if they were feeling sick and tired that'll start clearing up when their bodies notice they don't have a disease to spend all their energy fighting. "These ones'll be fine," he says even though they don't speak Hari.

Then he examines the others, starting at one end of the row and going systematically to the end. Most of these diseases aren't familiar to him. "Not sure how to help this one," he says about almost all of them. He adds a shrug and a frown and tries to sound different than he sounds when he says he can help.

The girl waves goodbye and says something that sounds like it's probably meant to be a reassurance.

Her lizard thing stays behind when she leaves, peering up at him from beneath one of the cots.

Hard to guess if the creature is being rude for this place. He looks right back at it to see what it does about that.

It cocks its head at him curiously. It doesn't seem particularly offended.

Imrainai is sort of unclear on whether the stranger is doing anything. He seems to be doing something, but it's definitely not magic, unless maybe he has a tablet and some materials hidden on his person somewhere. She's not sure he could be doing it even with that, but she's admittedly not an expert in these things. She tells her patients that the man is a healer, but he's from very far away and doesn't speak the language yet. 

She distributes tea and bandages and tries to answer people's questions. When the stranger finishes a row, she motions to another. When the entire room has had the benefit of whatever it is that he may or may not be doing, she motions for him to follow her into a different building.

He doesn't take too long to finish the room. He follows.

She takes him to a room with many tables and benches, most of them with food on them. At the far end of the room, there's a table full of people, all women, wearing the same uniform as Imrainai - a long, simple brown robe and a necklace made from colored wooden beads. Hers has three red beads and two yellow ones. The rest of the beads are brown.

She doesn't sit with the others. She takes him to a table full of people who don't have uniforms, and gets him a bowl and some soup and some pieces of bread. 

"Food," she informs him, before eating her own.

He tries to repeat that word. He's not much good at accents.

Is it language learning time? He tries pointing to the table and looking confused.

"Table," she tells him, and then points to herself. "Imrainai."

If she points to him?

"Mahan. Human death mage." He points at her. "Imrainai. Human, some kind of mage?"

"Mahan," she repeats, and then tries to think of what 'death mage' and 'some kind of mage' are. Or what 'human' is, for that matter.

The lizard thing scampers up her arm and curls up on top of her head.

Death mage, Spite informs her, silently. He said it when he was talking to Peth, so I at least know that's the translation the magic gave. Kills diseases and possibly other things.

Well that's at least mildly alarming, but so is reanimating a dead dragon with rat parts, so aren't they all.

"Imrainai, nurse," she says, in Kaltish. "Human?" she asks, in his language.

"Human," he agrees. He tries pointing at Spite and looking curious.

What are we calling you this week?

Doesn't matter, I'm the only one of me around.

"Spite."

"Spite. Uh... One human," pointing to himself, then Imrainai, "two humans," gesturing at the other humans, "many humans. One spite, two spite, many spite?"

She shakes her head. "One Spite," she tells him, in whatever he's speaking. Then, in Kaltish - "One person, two people, many people."

He points to himself. "Person?" And to her. "Person? 'Person'" (in Kaltish) "is human?" (in Hari).