Chapter 7 #6
As I cut the ends off the herbs I'm going to use for a remedy I'm making for the apothecary, I glance over at Bryn. She's learning quickly, more quickly than I would have believed, and she knows much more from her time at The Barrack than I predicted as well.
Her manner with the villagers is good. She’s friendly and approachable. She holds no grudge for what happened at the Hall the day after we came here either.
She was meant to be a healer.
She's filling pots with salve. I frown as my eyes fall upon the list of ingredients that we went to Tavish for that’s sitting on the side.
I'll need those ingredients today, and I know Tavish has them all. I’ve been wanting to pay a visit to him, anyway, remind him that Bryn is under our protection. Especially as it was his man who attacked her in the alley.
I wonder if Tavish knows that his wife asked Bryn for help for her and their babe.
I finish what I'm doing and take the sachets of pain herbs I’ve made over to the apothecary side.
'I'm just going to go and see if I can find these supplies,' I call through the door.
I see her nod absently.
'Bryn.'
She glances up at me.
'Yes?'
'Remember that Bekka will be coming by to grab the tinctures that I've finished.'
She nods. 'I remember.'
‘Don’t go out alone.’
‘I won’t.’
I leave the healer’s rooms and walk the short distance to the Trading Post. Tavish himself isn’t there that I can see, but one of his men, Braun, is behind the desk.
He glances up when he sees me, and I see his eyes narrow.
For a moment, I’m sure he's going to turn me away, but then he seems to think the better of it.
'Fae Jak' he says.
'Braun. I've come to see if you have these supplies in,' I say, showing him the list.
He nods. 'Aye, there’s plenty. In the back.'
I snort softly. No new supplies have arrived this week. As I suspected, Tavish was lying to Bryn when we came here the other day asking for them.
Braun gets me the supplies I need, packing them into small parcels that I can easily walk back to the healer’s rooms with. As he's doing that, Tavish himself appears from a side door. When he sees me, he scowls.
'You,' he snarls. 'You tell that Dark Realm bitch not to show her face here again. Unnatural fucking female.'
'What the fuck did you just say?' I snarl, forgetting I’m a healer for the moment as I stride forward, completely taking him aback.
He's never seen me angry, I realize. I’m usually smiling, pleasant, and making a joke. But I won’t have anyone talking about Bryn like that.
‘You dare speak about my female in that way?' I spit.
The weak cunt skitters back like a scared child without a word.
'She's been given leave to stay here by the Council. You were there,' I remind him, ‘and if I hear that you’re not being welcoming to her, we're going to have a problem, you and I, Tavish,’ I grate out.
He opens his mouth, likely to argue, but I cut him off.
'And if she comes here to get supplies for the healer’s room or the apothecary, then you fucking give them to her, or I will have you up before Dane.
You aren’t permitted to thwart a healer in their duty.
That’s the law. I serve Halsford. So does she. '
'That woman is not a healer,' he spits.
'She's as much a healer as I am,' I say through clenched teeth, deciding to let him find out for himself that his wife and babe have benefited from Bryn’s healing knowledge. 'And she'll be the one managing the apothecary and the healer's rooms when I'm not here.'
Tavish's face grows red, and he chokes back some nasty barb.
I sneer at him as I take my packages. 'Payment from the Council will be forthcoming,' I mutter over my shoulder as I stalk quickly back to the healer's rooms, my fists clenched in anger.
I go inside and find Bryn with a woman I don't recognize at first, but, as she turns, her fiery red hair gives her away.
'Gwen?' I ask.
She grins at me.
'Jak.'
'How did you get in? I thought the wards were closed.'
She rolls her eyes and snorts. 'I, Drak, and Grim lived here first. They can try to keep us away if they like, but we have our ways in…and out.'
I let out a chuckle. 'I see you've met Bryn.'
'Yes. I've actually just arrived. We’re barely into the pleasantries. Where in the Dark are you from, Bryn?’
‘A place called The Barrack,’ Bryn says.
'The Barrack?' Gwen exclaims, eyes wide.
‘You know it?’ Bryn asks, trepidation in her tone.
‘I know of it. Gods, we all knew of it,' she mutters. 'It was a threat. Do your work, be a good slave, or you’ll be sold to The Barrack.’
The look Gwen gives Bryn is now tinged with respect. ‘So, you're a Dark Realmer and they let you stay? Didn’t think they were doing that anymore.'
'I…made a deal,' Bryn says.
Gwen's brows rise.
'I'm sure you did,' she says. ‘No one like the fae to give you a deal, though oft they put you in the position to need such an agreement in the first place, eh?’
Bryn shrugs. ‘We’ll all get what we want.’
‘Indeed,’ Gwen mutters a bit sardonically. 'Anyway, I came here because I need supplies. I'm running low on several herbs as I don’t run the apothecary anymore, and Tavish won’t sell to me now. Sorry about that, by the way, Jak. I would have told you I was leaving if I could have.'
'Not to worry, I have Bryn to help,' I say. 'Though you are sorely missed. As are Grim and Drakar.'
Gwen nods. 'It's unfortunate that we had to go, but when a brick was thrown through our window?—'
‘Gods, Gwen.’ My eyes widen. 'I didn't know.'
'It was during the autumn. Shattered, it was. After that, I felt, as did Drak and Grim, that it was time for us to move on. The tide here has changed. It's a darker place since all that trouble. Things haven't been the same, and they're just getting worse.'
'So, you moved to the next valley?' I ask.
She nods. 'Quite a nice glen. Low down. Close to the river. Should be spared the worst of the winter cold. Come visit us if your fae masters in the Underhill will allow it.'
I snort. ‘I’ll find a way out.’
'You’re always welcome.'
I nod. ‘Thank you.'
'Bryn, it was lovely to have met you,' Gwen says. 'I look forward to welcoming you to our home.'
She turns, but then hesitates. She takes Bryn’s hand. ‘As one former Dark Realm slave to another…don’t let the freefolk treat you badly. Don’t just bear what they give you because you’re so grateful to be here.’
‘I won’t,’ Bryn whispers.
She stares after Gwen as she leaves. 'She knew The Barrack.’
'Aye. Gwen was a slave in Rondorai, a town in the Eighth Circle, all her life. She escaped her master when he turned on her and happened upon Drakar, who was in need of a healer for Grim. Gwen’s master had been a healer, so she knew much of the art, as you do.
She helped them, and they made their home here.
They started this place, as you may already know.
And when Lia found her way here, they created Halsford together with the Underhill. '
Bryn looks down at what she's doing and keeps filling the vials.
'And then the home they built here was stolen by the politics and games,' she says quietly.
‘I suppose it was.’
‘More unfairness,’ she mutters.
There’s a knock at the outer apothecary door. It’s not locked, so I go out to see who’s there.
Morgan’s standing in the street.
‘Why didn’t you just come in?’ I ask.
Without a word, he hands me a small piece of parchment. ‘That was slipped under our door.
I read it and my heart sinks. The reprieve is over.
‘Tomorrow,’ I mutter, looking across the room where I can just see Bryn concentrating on what she’s doing.
‘Aye.’
‘And there’s no way out of it? Locke can’t speak to Dane…’
‘He already tried,’ Morgan states. ‘Calder knows there’s no point in making her train with Voss, not really. He’s doing it because he can, to spite her and us.’
I let out a sigh. ‘Voss will have to keep to the same rules as he must with his fae students at least.’
Morgan nods. ‘Still don’t want her away from us, though. We can train her well enough. We have been.’
‘As you said,’ I murmur softly, ‘it’s not about the training.
It’s about making sure she knows her place, that we know ours.
It’s about us knowing that Calder pulls the strings on both councils.
He didn’t like that we were willing to claim her, that Dane was able to thwart his true plan…
to take her from Merediea once she was cast out.
This is the price of his disappointment. ’
Morgan lets out a sound of derision. ‘At least the binding is done, and part of the claiming as well.’