daor
A title earned by few and respected by all, it attests the bearer is, at a minimum, a physician of sufficient learning he is unlikely to kill you with his ministrations.
Before earning the right to wear a daor’s medallion, candidates complete seven arduous years of education after graduating college. Competition for admission into the exclusive schools is intense. The programs are available only at seven venerable institutions in Innis, Bresca, and the Ten Kingdoms.
Beyond compulsory mastery of the healing arts, candidates may seek additional specialties according to interest and aptitude: governance, economics, philosophy, engineering, elemental science, or astronomy.
Daor Ranald is the first daor we meet in Rootstock. Ranald is talented but unconventional, brilliant but eccentric. He is the only living daor to have been awarded gems in every specialty.
Calum describes him.
If ever a man was too clever for his own good, it was the learned Daor Ranald. A middle-aged scholar with silver-rimmed spectacles and a curly brown mop of hair that refused any efforts at taming, he was always moving, talking, or reading. Often all at once.
Calum was certain the daor must have read every page of every book in Innis. His keen intellect led him to some rather unorthodox theories at times, some heretical enough to keep him from consideration for the more prominent college appointments. Their loss was Monaughty’s gain. Daor Ranald was the finest tutor and most competent advisor retained by any noble household in Innis.
Of course, that meant tolerating a few eccentricities. And the occasional workshop mishap. And the colorful collection of fungi growing in the solarium. To say naught of the lizards.
Legend of the Storm Hawks
Daor Llewellyn appears in Path of the Spirit Runner as mentor to the next generation of Iverach children at Monaughty.
“How did she build this contraption without you noticing?” Calum demanded of Daor Llewellyn. “Did you not see the sketches sometime before today?”
He’d brought the young scholar to Monaughty a year ago when it was clear the children’s nanny wasn’t able to keep pace with their quick minds. Llewellyn had proven up to the task. He reminded Calum of the inquisitive Daor Ranald who’d schooled him and his sisters at this age, though Llewellyn came with fewer eccentricities.
“I did, Your Grace.”
Llewellyn pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. He was a short man, prematurely bald with keen little eyes and a healthy tan from hours spent outdoors with the children.
“Lady Iris and I collaborated on the wingspan ratios. I thought it an excellent stretch of mathematics for her.”
“I told him I just wanted to build a model,” said Iris. “It isn’t his fault. He didn’t know I meant to fly it.”
“I’m sorry, Your Graces,” Llewellyn apologized anyway. “It was supposed to be a theoretical exercise. The calculations were only preliminary. There was much we still needed to work out.”
Path of the Spirit Runner
The testimony of young Daor Olen in aids the defense in Isobel’s trial for sorcery.
Ranald waved over the young daor. “Daor Olen, you earned your medallion this past spring, is that right?”
“Yes, Daor Ranald, from Wexford College,” the young man said brightly.
“Good, then. Fresh from the daor mills. Tell us, Olen, how were you taught to resuscitate a drowning victim? Do the professors still teach bellows?”
“Oh, no. That’s old practice,” he said promptly, relieved to have a ready answer in front of such a distinguished audience. “I would lean the man’s head back, to clear his airway, of course.”
“Of course,” nodded Ranald. “And then?”
“Pinch his nose closed and blow into his mouth,” Olen said confidently. “It looks a bit awkward to the casual observer, but it’s far more effective than bellows.”
Path of the Spirit Runner
