The Healer's Legacy (4 page)

Kira wasn’t sure how much she should reveal about herself to this strange fellow, but there were several things she needed. She also knew that the gnomes held a high regard for negotiations and bartering. She tapped her chin with one finger as she thought, taking her time before replying. “Two blankets, a bag of grain, three measures of dried meat and a small cooking pot.”

“What!?” exclaimed the gnome. “Have ye been eatin’ Sanity’s Bane? All that for some skinny birds?”

“A moment ago, they were not a bad catch,” Kira said, amused by his reference to the intoxicating herb. “You’ll feed a dozen folk with these skinny birds.” She put a hand on her hip and clamped her jaw shut, waiting for his counter, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Bargaining was a skill she’d learned well from Heresta.

“A dozen folk,” he sputtered. “Perhaps where ye come from ’tis the way, but folk here are hardy and have need of a proper feed after workin’ in the woods the day long.” He held up the hens and eyed them disdainfully. “I’ll tell ye what,” he said. “I’ve always been a gen’rous soul. I’ll give ye one blanket, and one measure o’ dried meat.”

“One and one?” Kira scoffed. “Then, I’ll give you one hen.”

“One for each, then,” the gnome said.

“All right,” Kira said, with a smile. “A deal. One for one. I have four hens, which I give for a blanket, a pot, a measure of dried meat and a bag of grain.”

“I never said anything about grain or a pot,” the gnome growled, shaking the hens at her.

“One for one,” Kira said, standing her ground.

“Ach.” The gnome tilted his head and smiled. “Agreed,” he said. “It’s what I get for bein’ lax and underestimatin’ ye. Ye bargain like a gnome, ye do.”

Kira smiled. “I had a good teacher,” she said, remembering Heresta bargaining in the markets as Kira carried their purchases from stall to stall.

“My name’s Ryospar, and I’m pleased to make yer acquaintance. And truth be told, these are fine healthy hens ye’ve caught.”

Kira hesitated for a moment, then said, “You may call me Ardea.” She wasn’t sure she should use her mother’s name in such a way, but it was the first name that came into her head. She watched Ryospar’s face, afraid he wouldn’t believe her, but he only nodded.

“Would ye care to join us fer the evenin’ meal before collectin’ yer goods? Most are off deliverin’ wood, but a few are here with me an’ the youngsters.”

Kira glanced up at the main building. Warm light spilled out from the windows, and the smell of wood smoke and cooking wafted on the evening air. A part of her longed to say yes, to sit by a bright fire and enjoy a fresh cooked meal, but she knew she shouldn’t. No, she couldn’t stay. Aside from the risk, there was the danger she might bring down on these quiet folk. “No, thank you. I truly must move on.”

Ryospar peered at her, eyes squinted. For a moment, Kira thought he would probe further, but he only nodded.

“Come along, then,” he said. “We’ll gather yer goods and ye can be on yer way. Though I dare say, ’tisn’t as welcoming in the woods as by a forester’s fire.” He turned toward one of the lean-tos, carrying the hens. The little goat trundled after him, and Kira followed.

Ryospar led the way into a small shed where he hung his lamp on a peg and set the hens on a nearby box. He picked up a small burlap bag from a stack in the corner, opened a barrel and began scooping out grain. When the sack was nearly full, he tied a cord around the opening and handed the bag to Kira.

She took the bag and hefted it in her hand, feeling the weight of it. Ryospar closed the barrel, but the little goat nudged him and he raised the lid just enough to grab a small handful of grain. He held out his hand to the kid. It lipped the kernels gently from his palm, licking it clean afterward. Ryospar scrutinized Kira, who was watching him with the young animal, and shrugged. “He’s a nuisance, but I haven't got the heart to tie him up when I’m tending the stables.” He wiped his hand on his trousers before gathering the rest of the items from the holding’s stores. Placing a pouch of dried meat into a small but sturdy iron cooking pot, he turned to Kira and held the items out to her. “Ach, we’ll have to be asking after the blanket up to the main hall,” he said, as she took the proffered items. “We don’t keep them stores out here.” Intense curiosity crossed his face. “Are ye sure ye won’t stay and share the eve’s repast with us?”

Kira smiled wistfully at him. “No, but thank you again for the kind offer.” She paused for a moment, casting a meaningful glance at the sack of grain in her hand. “And for the generous portions of grain and meat. I know you’ve over-measured both.”

He raised both eyebrows and gave her a pointed look. “Ach, now don’t go spreadin’ that sort of rumor about the countryside. I’d ne’er be able to get another good bargain anywhere. Well now, yer goin’ to have to come with me up to the hall, while I fetch yer blanket.”

They walked to the main hall, the kid still following. “Ach, I almost fergot.” He led the young goat over to the stable, ushered it inside and closed the lower half of the main door, so it couldn’t get out. The kid bleated loudly from the other side of the door. “It’ll only be a moment,” he told it quietly. “Stop yer bawling. I’ll be right back to finish the evenin’ chores.”

“I’m sorry,” Kira said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.”

“Ach, and how could ye not. ’Tisn’t as if I could have planned fer yer visit, eh?”

Something about the way he said it, made Kira examine his face, but it was nearly full dark now and she couldn’t make out his features clearly. It is a pity to be suspicious, even of such a kindly person, she thought, as she followed Ryospar up to the main hall. But she remained on guard.

The furnishings inside the main building were short and squat, built specifically for gnome comfort. The large central room was lit with lamps hanging from hooks along the walls that for Kira were at shoulder level, and the tables and chairs were low and wide. Three long tables were set up in a U-shape, with chairs set along the outside so those seated would all face the center of the room.

A broad fireplace sat at the back of the hall, with ovens set into both sides, where large meals could be cooked. There were trestle tables nearby, and fat rounds of dough set for rising near the fire. The smell of flour and yeast rose on the warm air, and the heady aroma of a hearty stew wafted across the room. Kira’s mouth began to water.

At the fire, stirring the contents of a big pot stood a short stout woman about the same height as Ryospar. She glanced over her shoulder at them, nodding when she saw Kira. She lifted the ladle and rapped it on the edge of the stew pot before hanging it on a nearby hook. Wiping her hands on her apron, she turned and walked around the tables to meet them.

“Och, Ryospar,” she said, her accent thicker than the old gnome’s. “Who have ye got with ye?” Her round face held dark shining eyes over a pudgy nose, and her cheeks were red from the heat of the fire. A small bead of perspiration ran down the side of her face and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. Kira had at first thought she was a gnome like Ryospar, but she appeared to be human. There was nothing gnomish about her, except for her size.

The woman was obviously curious about Kira. She held her up chin, inspecting Kira, as if sizing up a potential scullery maid and not liking what she saw.

“Malla, we’ve a visitor. She’s brought some fine game for trade,” Ryospar held out the game hens to the woman. Malla scowled at the birds.

“Och, they be half-starved. Stringy, too, I expect.” She took the hens, with a fierce look at Kira, as if she expected her to argue with her assessment of the fowl.

“I’d say they’re plump enough to roast,” Ryospar said cheerfully. “And I’ve already given my word on fair trade.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, perhaps they’ll serve,” Malla replied more civilly. Then she dropped her voice and added, “Mayhap even Talya will find her hunger again.”

Concern cut across Ryospar’s face. “Still hasn’t eaten?”

Malla pursed her lips and shook her head. Her eyes seemed to soften.

“Is someone ill?” Kira asked.

“Indeed,” Ryospar replied. “’Tis my brother’s youngest. For the past few days, she’s been sleepin’ more than a child should, not eatin’. And she’s been coughin’ deep in her chest. Now, she’s taken on a fever. Malla’s done all we know to do for such child’s ailments as those we know of, but naught has worked.” He shrugged helplessly.

There is no time for this, Kira thought. She needed to flee, to be gone from this place. She willed her heart to harden. But her healer’s training prevailed. “I know something of herbs and healing,” she offered. “If I could see her, I may be able to help.”

Malla’s eyes grew wide, her expression hopeful. “Are ye a healer, then?”

“I have some skill,” Kira replied carefully, “but a true healer I am not. I was unable to complete my apprenticeship.” She didn’t say any more.

“It would be a kindness to us all, if ye could be of help,” Ryospar said. “She’s in the anteroom.” He motioned to a doorway.

“I’ll do what I can,” Kira said.

The room was dim. A small candle guttering on a wooden table offered the only light. Kira knelt by a low pallet where a little girl lay, shivering beneath heavy blankets. Her skin was pale, and dark circles filled the hollows beneath her eyes. Her breathing was so shallow Kira had to hold her hand above the girl’s mouth to feel the moist air that barely trickled from between her cracked lips.

Kira lifted the girl’s hand and felt for the heartbeat at her wrist. It was weak and rapid, fluttering like a tiny bird’s wings. The child’s skin was hot to the touch, her forehead moist with sweat. A moan escaped from her small lips as Kira began lifting the blankets off. “This is no common fever,” she told Ryospar who hovered nearby. She leaned over the girl, putting her face close to the child’s, and sniffed. There was a sour scent to the girl’s breath. “When did she fall ill?”

Ryospar rubbed at his chin. “It was a hand-span of days ago.”

“Did she eat anything unusual, any wild plants or flowers, before she became sick?”

“Naught that I know tell of,” Malla said from the doorway. “Och, but ye know children.” She frowned. “They’re all the time galavantin’ about. Who knows what they’re into from one moment to the next?”

“Have you given her anything for her symptoms?” Kira asked.

“Aye,” Malla replied, wringing her hands in concern. “Honeyed tea fer the cough, an’ white willow bark fer the fever. But she’s barely drank a few sips o’ neither.”

Kira could feel the woman’s eyes on her as she pulled back the blankets to examine the girl further. She placed her hand against the child’s stomach. Her belly was distended, and hard to the touch as if it were filled with something solid. The girl moaned again.

Kira pulled one of the blankets back up to her chin, leaving the others piled at the end of the bed. “It isn’t a normal childhood complaint,” she said. “I think she’s contracted something. A parasite of some sort.”

Malla’s hands went to her mouth and her eyes stitched with pained. “Och! I should have kept a better watch on the child!”

Ryospar turned to the distressed woman. “Nay, Malla. ’Tisn’t yer fault. Ye can’t be watchin’ after all the younglings at every moment.”

Kira eyed them for a long moment, uncertain as to what to say. She looked down at the child and decided on the truth. “I might be able to help her, but the remedy will make her even more ill for a time. She won’t be able to have food for several more days, perhaps a week. And as small as she is . . .” Her words trailed off into silence as she watched Ryospar’s jaw working. It was clear he was trying hard to keep his emotions in check, but Kira could see the fear in his eyes. “Have any of the other children had any symptoms?” she asked.

“Nay, naught that I’ve seen.” Malla choked out the words and hugged herself, tears running down her face.

“Malla,” Kira said. “I need you to boil a pot of water. After it boils for a few minutes, put two dippers of it into a clean wooden bowl. Add a small measure of white willow bark, and two of tansy. And mix a half-measure of powdered elf’s garlic in it.’ She reached into the pouch at her waist and drew out a handful of garget roots and the berries she’d collected earlier. “Then chop these roots and mash the berries and toss them into the mixture.”

Malla sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She crossed the room and took the roots from Kira, pausing to eye the berries suspiciously, “Nay,” she said. “Yer not wantin’ to give her those, are ye?”

“Yes,” Kira said firmly, looking the woman in the eye. “I know they’ll make her ill, but it will help to purge out the insects that are growing inside her.”

Malla’s eyes widened. She pursed her lips tight, but she took the berries and turned toward the door.

“Malla,” Kira said.

“Yes?”

“If you have any peppermint and eucalyptus oil, please bring that as well.”

Malla nodded and left the room.

Ryospar watched her go, then turned to Kira. “Is there naught fer me to do?” he asked.

“There is plenty, I’m afraid. First, we’ll have to move her out of the main hall. Is there a small storage building we can clear out?”

Ryospar frowned, but nodded. “Aye, but ye want to move a sick child out into the night?”

“We need her away from the cooking area, in a place that’s easily cleaned. We’ll need everything else removed from the shed, and a thick bed of hay put down. Once the purging begins . . .” she spread out her hands to gesture at the room.