1. Chapter One #2
Agatha and Yedda sleep next to Mama. Florian lifts his pudgy hands to me, and I hike him onto my hip, placing him in his chair at the table.
His bright red hair, which matches Yedda’s and mine, looks as disheveled as his smudged cheeks that mask his freckles.
His continually matted golden eyes add to his grey, sickly appearance.
He lets out a stream of raspy coughs and wheezes.
After filling a large pot with water, I place it on the hot stove to boil.
The pot rattles, and I pour the steaming liquid into a bowl, carrying it over to the struggling two-year-old.
His pale cheeks redden as the steam rises around him.
I hold his hands to keep him from reaching for the scorching water.
His wheezing eases as he coughs. It won’t last through the night, but it will allow the toddler to get a meal without choking.
I warm chicken broth on the stove and bring it over to my brother.
He takes each bite at a slow pace, and I carefully help him sip his water before using a rag to wash his eyes and give him the medicine that might get him through another night.
Mother gave him his first evening dose, but he always requires another.
I stay up late every night to make sure he gets it.
The chicken broth keeps it from souring his stomach.
The horns Ruax stole would have fetched enough for a year’s worth of better medicine for Florian, and it’s why I can’t let his thievery go.
Healers don’t expect Florian to survive another winter without stronger treatment.
His lungs were born weak, and any substantial illness is sure to claim him on a frigid night.
He barely survived last winter, and each year his lungs weaken further.
All known medicines will prolong his life for only so long, but maybe the extra time would allow us to find a cure.
I rock the frail boy in the chair by the fireplace as I wrap him in his favorite blanket. “You’re such a sweet boy, Florian. I love you.”
Having never spoken a word in his brief life, Florian gives no response other than snuggling in closer.
He slowly relaxes into sleep, able to rest for the few hours the treatment gives him relief.
I make sure pillows prop him in his crib and blow out the lantern Mother left on for me.
Once he’s fully settled, I return to the kitchen to clean things up before crawling into bed next to my mother and sisters.
As usual, I rise before everyone. Every morning, I wake with the anxious nagging to make sure Florian still lives.
The morning sun streams in through the blue curtains enough to allow me to see the rise and fall of his belly.
I close my eyes in relief and finish my chores.
A quick glance in the cupboard shows enough flour for a small batch of pancakes.
Yedda shuffles in, pours tea from the pot on the stove, and sits at the small table.
She grunts when I tell her good morning.
At fifteen, she finished her last year in school and started an apprenticeship at the ceramics house.
It pays two pence a day and helps buy a few meals a month.
She really wants to be a blacksmith, but the guild entrance fees for such an occupation are much too high.
Mother takes every third day’s pay and puts it in a jar to save for Yedda’s future.
She hopes someday it'll be enough to give Yedda her dream.
Agatha skips out of the bedroom, humming a cheerful tune.
She stops in front of Florian in his chair and pats his head.
“He looks better, don’t you think? A little more color to his cheeks.
” Florian looks no better, but it’s something my thirteen-year-old sister tells us every morning.
She sits next to Yedda. “Pancakes! What a grand breakfast we have! Thank you, Neera! It’s so lovely! ”
Yedda pushes her food around with her fork while she crinkles her nose at Agatha. “It’s all we’ve had for five days now.”
“It’s yummy every time.” Agatha hurries through breakfast and rushes out the door.
Mother comes out from the back and accepts the small dish of food I prepared for Florian. She takes the chair in front of where he’s strapped in. “Were you able to secure the better medicine like you’d hoped?”
I make her a plate and set it next to her. “Still working on it. If I can’t, I’ll travel to the city and see if I can trade some crafts we’ve made.”
“I pulled some quality carrots from the garden yesterday. Those might help toward the goal.”
“It would be best to can those and save them for winter.”
“Florian won’t survive the winter without the medicine.” She spoons his first bite and smiles at him.
“I’ll figure something out. I promise.”
My current plan mainly involves either beating Ruax until he surrenders what’s mine or following him to his house and breaking in.
He rents a cottage with three other men, so the second option might be best. I could take him down and maybe one or two of the others.
If they all attacked at once, it probably wouldn’t go so well for me.
An icy chill frosts the windows of the apothecary shop, creating intricate frozen patterns.
Shelves against the walls of the shop hold potions and medicines in jars, bottles, and boxes.
They’re divided by purpose, and the left half of the store is committed to health needs while the right is everything else.
I transferred from the blood guild shortly after my mother gave birth to a frail Florian.
Finding a cure for him has motivated me ever since.
Incense helps lessen the musky and potent scents of some of the brewing ingredients. The sage and cinnamon do a nice job of masking most of the unpleasant smells. A long table in the middle of the room holds bowls, instruments, and many other items needed for people to test products.
Ivelle stands at the tall counter, pouring blood through a strainer.
The shade of red tells me it came from a fish.
My eyes are green as emeralds, but what makes them unique is the purple flecks.
My rare irises indicate the gift of seeing hundreds of color shades.
Many I don’t have names for and can only describe them to people by mentioning how they are similar to better known hues.
The talent allows me to tell the type of creature a blood sample belongs to and different properties in it that will create certain medicines and potions.
Ivelle is the shop owner and has mentored me since I was barely a teenager.
She came to my school looking for her next apprentice and left with me.
When I came of age and grew restless, she convinced the blood guild to hire me, where they taught me to fight monsters and learn the blood trade.
After I returned to help my family, she hired me again and has trained me in potions and remedies more than she had when I was younger.
Ivelle pours the blood into a porcelain bowl on her right. “Any luck with the typhon horns?”
“None, but I have the troll’s clove you asked for.”
Her head whips up from her task. “No way! How?”
“I traded my blood sifting services with the cobbler, who gave me a special rope from the butcher. That rope then went to the baker for a special flour sack that’s going to our heartless king, and her grandmother is the witch that lives out east of town and has accumulated a large number of rare items. She had plenty of clove. ”
She yanks off her gloves and washes her hands before running to me and wrapping me in a rib-cracking hug. “You’re the best!”
“That will only be true if I can get Florian’s medicine.”
“You trying makes you that already. These will help the cats’ boils for sure. Can you bring me the crushed reindeer hooves? It’ll work perfectly as a catalyst.”
I scan the shelves, pull down the right powder, and toss it to her. “You should have gone into beast medicine instead.”
“All living creatures deserve help, and I am open to doing everything I can for all.”
“All I want is to help one.”
“Yet you have helped so many others with that goal.”
“All but him.”
She mixes the grey powder with a yellow bee salve. “And you eventually will. No one can be so dedicated to a cause as you and not succeed.”
After so much failure with my mission, her words seem like the false hope I’ve clung to for months.
It keeps me going but does little to spare Florian.
I stay at the shop to help Ivelle for the rest of the day while I wait for the award ceremony.
Desperation increases my determination to get the typhon horns by any means I can.