12
Three days I sat in the infirmary.
Though I don’t think it was because I was physically ill. I partially believe it was to maintain the front of me having unknown spasms to the House of Leto. Chiron was a godsend. The other reason I believe the centaur was keeping me here was because of how lonely I was rapidly beginning to feel in my rooms.
I wonder if Chiron could tell how on edge I was.
Together Chiron and I would occasionally chatter or in companionable silence. Not the awkward kind either. The type that makes me feel recharged. Ready to take on the world.
Shouts from down the corridor of the infirmary echo through the solid doors leading to our long and open room.
The doors crash open. The wood clatters against the stone walls.
Which I got to commend the gods; they sure know how to build for durability. Had I done that back home, one I’d been murdered by my stepmom and two, the door would have shattered into tiny pieces with force like that.
A small crowd of about three entered the infirmary. At the center is a nymph who enters cradling her face. Appearing like she’s a bloody nose. A plain linen blanket obscures her face. Large green eyes flash around the room.
Pleading.
Looking for help.
Her hair is a soft shade of lilac. Long and curled reminding me of the lilac bushes of my home. Perhaps she’s a flower nymph? Though admittedly, I know nearly nothing about nymphs so that’s a guess.
Chiron rushes over and gestures to her to sit in the bed across from me. Before asking, “How may I be of assistance?”
The nymph is dressed in the uniform of the kitchens. “My nose... It”s… Well…” She stammers.
The healer turns to the two satyrs who carried her in on a makeshift gurney. “How long since the plague has started?” Chiron’s serious voice chills down my spine.
The plague.
It’s here in the castle with someone other than Apollo.
“Two weeks,” the older teenager answered. “But these last several hours… It was so quick.
I can’t help but stare at the face of the nymph. It”s almost like looking at carved masks with two emerald orbs. Stiffly she turns, brambles of leaves jut outwards.
Pulling her hand from masking her face, my eyes widened. Instead, the skin of a nymph, the gnarled leathery bark of a tree glares out at me. Instead of a nose, a wood branch spreads across her face, a single budding leaf sprouting near the tip.
What in Hades…
Long claws like fingers grasp at Chiron’s chest. “Help me.” The voice is strained. Like the wind was shouting at us. Green leaves sprouting from her fingertips.
Pulling my face, Arista urges me to look away. “You won’t want to see this.” Her warning sent fear straight into my core.
But I can’t sit by. Maybe I could help the healer.I whispered to my friend.
“Suit yourself,” she mutters in an annoyed tone. “Just don’t come crawling back to me because I”ll reiterate that I told you so.”
Fine.
“Chiron.” I state, pulling his attention over to me. His wide eyes flit over to me. “Why don’t you give her a healing potion. Perhaps that could reverse the curse.”
…Or whatever she has going on there.
The centaur shakes his head. “No, it’s no use. Healing potions can’t be brewed here.”
“Can’t?” I raise a questioning eyebrow. Thinking back to my memory, I know that he taught that person how to make healing potions in this very room. How could it be that now he isn’t able to? “Is it because of your shackles? Does it affect your ability to brew?”
“No, no. I don’t tend to use them as a stirring rod. If I did, that would certainly affect the potency of the draught.” He shakes his head. “If you’d like to give it a shot, you”re more than welcomed to in a bit. But right now, I need to focus on her.”
I stared at her and Chiron in horror. How could this be? It’s taking her so quickly.
“Plant her with the others.” He gestures to the coworkers who brought her in. The two male satyrs look down on her eyes full of worry. “She’s beyond our help now.”
The girl struggles, thrashing what little moment she can.
The two men carry her from the room. Their eyes were full of tears.
“Hurry. You must make it to a grassy patch otherwise the consequences will be dire,” warns Chiron.
The infirmary holds a cold chill. “What’s going to happen to her?” I asked.
“She”ll revert to her primordial form. The dryad will be stuck, remaining as a shifted tree,” Chiron sighs while rubbing his temples. “From the looks of it, she’s either a wisteria or lilac tree.”
Playing with the hem of my blanket, I fidget as I ask, “Is it the plague? Is that what’s causing her to… well become a tree?”
Dressing down the bed, he pulls off the sheets to the nymph’s bed. “Yes.”
I sat up, taking in what the centaur told me. “And how does this relate to healing potions?”
“They’ve become inert. I have tried it nearly one thousand times to no avail,” Chiron states in an exasperated tone.
Sitting down at his desk, he rubs his temples.
Curious. Why would a potion suddenly stop working? “I used to brew them when I was back at home. Would you like me to give it a shot?”
The healer nods. “I suppose that I don’t see a problem with it. It may be greatly helpful to narrow down if it’s directly me or a greater issue.”
Swinging my legs over the bed, I flatten my hospital gown before standing. Approaching the preparation table, I tie up my hair and set to work on the healing potions. Setting out the proportion of water, lavender, and the other proper ingredients.
I flick on the heat for the caldron. I wait for the rolling boil before setting to work adding my ingredients.
Plucking the petals from the plant, I count out thirteen pieces.
One dollop of honey goes into the heated caldron.
Ingredient by ingredient I run down my list. At this point I have fully memorized the process. Chiron sits looking over my shoulder. Not in an intrusive way but staring at me with a look filled with hope.
Grasping the wooden stirring rod, I count my proper tempo before pulling the potion away from the heat. As we wait for the potion to cool, I grasp a cutting edge.
“Looks like a very well done potion,” he muses. “I”ll send for a specimen to test the potion on.” The hope is audible in his voice. He wants this to work as bad as I do.
Shaking my head, I reply, “No need.” Dragging the scapple across the palm of my hand, Chiron flinches at the sight of my blood.
“Why did you do that?” The centaur rubs his temples.
I shrug. “I”m impatient.”
The blood pools in my hand. I soak up the excess blood with the gauze. Snatching a ladle, scoop a couple of drops into the basin and drop a pool of liquid in my hand.
Nothing happened.
My eyes grew wide.
My bleeding continues as I exclaim, “What in Hades! I have made this potion probably a hundred times.”
He sighs, “I was hopeful but knew that this was the likely outcome. Go sit down and I”ll bind up your hand.”
Plopping down on my bed, my brain is spinning, contemplating ways to diagnose the problem.
Grasping my hand, Chiron disinfects my palm and dresses my wound. “You need to take it easy. Absolutely no getting up to trouble,” Chiron shakes a finger at me. “If I hear of you doing strenuous activity for the next three days, I”ll send Athena and Apollo after you.”
Part of me wants Apollo sent after me. A part buried so deep that I try to ignore it. After all, nothing good could come of those thoughts. Thoughts of him holding me. Pressed against me. His weight is like a protective blanket as he lays over me.
Gods above.
“Fine!” I roll my eyes playfully. “I promise that I”ll not start training for a marathon or the Olympics. Though I guess, I wouldn’t be allowed to even attend.” Though I can’t make the same promise for gardening. After all, gardening is a low impact activity, I justify.
The centaur asked curiously, “And why is that?”
“Strictly speaking, women weren’t allowed at the games as far as I know. Competing would be completely out of the question,” I elaborate.
“Ahhh yes. That’s the mortal interpretation of the games. In the divine world, gender isn’t a qualifying factor for the games,” Chiron chuckled. “In fact, seeing Athena boxing Ares was one of the most thrilling matches I have ever seen. The two gods of war each fought so differently. Athena, cool, calm, and collected. Full of strategy as she strikes out at her opponents. Ares was the opposite. Brute force and strength. He lashes out with the grace of a bull.”
My brain flashes with images of Athena fighting another seasoned warrior.
No, not a fighter, a god. “Who won?” I question excitedly.
“Athena.” He grins. “Though Ares still claims foul to this day. Personally though, I think it’s hard to make such a claim when you”re knocked unconscious by an opponent but hey, what do I know.” The centaur shrugs keeping his tone matter of fact, but a smile is still contained in his eyes.
I make a mental note to ask Athena about this later on. Maybe if I appeal to her through her pride, then she”ll finally let me in.
“Now, back to your orders. Please take it easy and rest. I”ll request that Artemis bring you a selection of books. Perhaps a busy mind will keep you out of trouble.” He smiles down at me but the grin doesn’t reach his eyes.
Fiddling with my medicine under my neck, I think about telling Chiron. Asking him if he has ever heard of it. Or knows what it is… Or even better, what its purpose is.
Taking a deep breath, I state, “Wait, Chiron. Before you leave, I have a question for you. Have you ever heard about a medicine that’s taken daily? Silver in color. Made of honey and lavender among other things. My dad used to make it for me at home. I”m starting to run low.”
Contemplating for several moments, Chiron paused before replying, “Not off the top of my head. The only silver liquid that I”m aware of is highly poisonous and that would not make any sense. You’d have been driven mad long ago at such consistent usage. Perhaps, I can check for anything in my books, but I doubt I”ll be able to find anything. Do you’ve any chronic conditions?”
“I used to believe it would block visions, but I don’t think so. My gut tells me that I”m missing something,” I babble.
Part of me used to think that it blocked Ari. Though even that never happened in entirety. She and I would still chatter back and forth even when she wasn’t able to hold a corporeal form.
“Without the medicine, it would nearly be impossible torun tests,” He gives me a comforting look. Chiron knitted his brows as he looked down at me.
I contort my lips into a thin line. Pulling my medicine from around my neck, I gestured to Chiron, urging him to take it. “No problem.” My heart rate quickens. “Here it is.”
Stepping over to me, the centaur looks down at the liquid. Pulling it to a light, he rolls the liquid around, swirling it lightly in the bottle. A look of concern is fixed on his place. “You said your dad made you this?”
I nod.
Popping the cork, he spills it onto his workstation. “Just as I thought.”
Pulling the wheeled cart over to my bedside. “What do you see?”
The liquid is dropped into perfect little spheres onto the countertop. Moving the table, the liquid rolls across the counter.
“It is forming droplets,” I state, trying to figure out what I”m looking at.
“Yes, and now look.” He pours most of my medicine bottle out onto the table.
I flinch at the wasting of my potion.
But watching the liquid, it seems to collect and adhere together.
“What’s it?”
Gravely, Chiron replies, “Mercury. More commonly known as quicksilver.”
Furrowing my brow, I cock my head to the side.
“Pandy, this is highly poisonous,” he pressed. “I can’t imagine a father giving this to his daughter. Nor can I think of any non-poisonous purposes. Even to gods, it’s called the God Killer.”
My eyes widen, as my voice croaks, “What?”
He bites on his lower lip. “Yes. In my many years on this plane, I have seen god”s dip their arrows in a waxier version of this, which can incapacitate an immortal with a nick of the skin. Otherwise, this liquid is nearly odorless and can adhere almost seamlessly into any other liquids with mild use of magic. Slipping it into the wine, the only way of detecting the presence being by dropping a couple drips on the table. If they drip into perfect spheres like this,” he gestures to the drops on the counter. “Then the liquid is tainted.”
Biting my lower lip, I hold back tears. “Was dad trying to poison me?”
The healer sighs as he grimaces, “I don’t know.”
I want to believe that he has his reasons, but I don’t know any more. All I know for certain is that I”ll find him, and he”ll tell me what’s going on.
Pressing my lips into a neutral place, I hold back the tears that threaten to form.
Dad, what were you doing to me?