The morning sun had not yet begun to bake when Anzhelika, dressed in the finest silk blue blouse and jeans, walked up the steps of the palace. In her hand she held a medium-sized bottle of life-giving moonshine, which she had brought from home. The girl greeted the gatekeepers with a friendly "Good morning, guys" - the faces of the guys bored at their post brightened as they answered her - and stepped under the high marble vaults. Looking around for the Sultan, she involuntarily adjusted her hair, even though she knew that her long, silky hair falling down her back looked great.

"Lady Angelica?" a short girl approached her, looking at her with curiosity and trying to hide it.
"Yes, it's me."
"I'm Madina. Sultan Salah ad-Din ordered me to take you to the hospital," the girl made an inviting gesture with her hand.

Anzhelika raised her eyebrows in surprise, but tried not to show her disappointment in any way - she didn't want to offend the friendly girl. Anzhelika's face remained calm and friendly, and her tone of voice was completely even when she addressed the guide:
"Nice to meet you, and thank you for your help. And where is he, by the way?"
"I can't know, Lady," the girl answered, dumbfounded.
"Well, it's okay. Let's go to the hospital. Is it far?" Anzhelika responded politely and didn't listened to the answer, thinking about the fact that she had not expected Salah ad-Din's absence at all. "And I moved here because of you, handsome," the girl sighed to herself, but immediately reminded herself that there was a war going on and the Sultan could have many reasons not to meet her in person. Following Madina, she went back out onto the porch and down the steps. The hospital was on the next block.

Entering the spacious building, Anzhelika looked around and was pleased to notice that the hospital looked quite decent. The ceilings were high and the rooms were large. Salah ad-Din had not been stingy with the excellent premises for the hospital. Although the local maids, Anzhelika thought, had not been so diligent - the dust in the corners could have been cleaned up.

Madina called three more maids, introducing them and Anzhelika to each other, and the whole company proceeded into the room where several boys and men were lying on beds. They looked at Anzhelika with usual for her surprise and interest. These were feelings Anzhelika evoked in those around her at home - often, in the Middle East - very often, and in the medieval Middle East - almost always. Tourism from the Nordic countries and bleaching hair dye were not popular here, and Anzhelika enjoyed the lack of competition.

Some of the future patients pulled the blanket higher over themselves, embarrassed.

"Good morning everyone," Anzhelika greeted everyone cheerfully with her usual friendliness, "I am your new healer, my name is Anzhelika. Please complain about all scratches, cuts and other things in the same kind, as well as fever, without leaving anything out (the girl remembered two cases at Tahir's house)."
"The Lady just tell us what needs to be done, and we will do it," said Madina.

A young man appeared from the corridor, short, thin, dressed in a light blue robe and turban. He was about the same age as Anzhelika, but it was hard to call him a guy - the gray hair that slightly silvered his temples and the very serious look of his small dark eyes interfered.

"As-salamu alaykum," he greeted her in a soft and quiet voice.
"Good morning," Anzhelika responded.
"I am Abdul Latif ibn Yusuf al-Baghdadi, a healer," the man introduced himself. "And you must be Angelica?" The girl nodded. The man continued: "Nice to meet you. I have heard many interesting things about your healing methods. Perhaps you could share them with me?"
Anzhelika remembered Salah ad-Din's words - "rumors in the palace spread in an instant" - and smiled, answering everyone at once:
"Of course, no problem. For the best disinfection, we first wipe our hands with this thing," she shook the bottle of moonshine, "which is called "spirit". For now I have some spirit with me, and later we will cook it, I will tell you how... First we wash the wounds with clean water, precisely clean - it is very desirable that it has been boiled before."
"Boiled?" Madina was amazed. "Like for soup?.."
"Yeah, exactly," confirmed Anzhelika. "Until bubbles start to appear. Only the water should be absolutely clean, without meat, salt, and the like. Boiling kills all the infection that could be in the water."
"Just like that?!" another maid responded in shock.
"Well, yes," Anzhelika shrugged and chuckled: "We must have had a lot of dissatisfied people for sure when this fact was discovered. Because the disinfection of food and drink by constant ingestion of alcohol has fallen out of use..."

All the assembled people burst into laughter.

"Then we treat the wounds with spirit and wrap them in a clean cloth," continued Anzhelika. "By the way, if you are going to stitch something, wipe the needle with spirit too."
"Do you know how to stitch, Lady?" one of the maids asked timidly.
"No, I don't know how," Anzhelika admitted honestly, and thought to herself that she would probably faint at the prospect of stitching something up on a living person.

No one complained of fever, and the maids began to treat the wounds. Abdul Latif looked at Anzhelika softly but intently, and clarified:
"Does alcohol always help?"
Anzhelika thought honestly a bit and answered:
"I don’t remember anyone having something festering after being treated with spirit. Oh, by the way! Although it is necessary to pour spirit on wounds, you should never pour wine on them!" the girl caught the interested glances of everyone present and shared: "One of my dad's friends went on a vacation to the countryside, injured his finger and poured wine on the scratch. And he lost his finger..."
One of the girls gasped.
"Was your father a healer?" asked Abdul Latif.
"No, he was a manag... a merchant. My grandmother was a healer," explained Anzhelika, and, remembering her previous healing experience, added: "And one more thing: you shouldn't drink spirit. You can get seriously poisoned by it. Well," the girl thoughtfully rubbed her forehead, "at least you shouldn't if you have such illnesses."
"And for what illnesses is it possible?" the boy lying on the bed by the window asked hopefully.
"Karim!" the older man cut him off.
"Come to me with your complaints, I’ll tell you when it’s possible and necessary," Anzhelika answered diplomatically, barely holding back a facepalm. Noticing that the maids were starting to bandage, Anzhelika examined the bandaging material and rejected a couple of rags of dubious cleanliness, and then continued: "And we will also need a healing decoction. For it we need sagebrush and chamomile..."

Abdul Latif called a passing servant and ordered her to bring paper and a pen, and while Anzhelika instructed the girls how to brew the decoction - they volunteered to go and get the ingredients themselves - the doctor carefully wrote down the recipe. Then he asked how to brew spirit, and wrote it down too. Anzhelika looked at him with respect.

"Well, I think that's all for today," Anzhelika summed up. "I would like to see the Sultan now, how can I find him?"
"Come with me, Lady, I'll talk to the guards and they'll help," Madina volunteered.
"Thank you," Anzhelika responded and followed the maid, thinking to herself: "Eh, I wish I could just call him on the phone or in a messenger right now..."

Anzhelika and Madina returned to the palace, where Madina asked one of the gatekeepers where Salah ad-Din could be found. He went somewhere deep into the palace, and the girls barely had time to sit down on one of the sofas (Madina hesitated, but Anzhelika insisted that she sit down with her), when he returned and suggested to follow him. Madina said goodbye, and Anzhelika followed her guide down the long, wide corridors.