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CHAPTER 33
Inside the cabin, a large hearth made of rounded rocks took up most of the wall to the right. Crude burlap curtains hung to the sides of the two doorways to rear rooms. A rough-hewn mantel held a lamp, as did the plank tabletop, neither lamp lit. Oak logs crackled and popped in the hearth, lending the room a smoky but inviting aroma, as well as the soft flicker of firelight. An iron arm, black with soot, held a lidded kettle off to the side of the fire. After so long out in the weather, Je
The healer laid the boy on one of several pallets along the wall opposite the hearth. The mother knelt on one knee, watching as he drew back the folds of the blanket. Je
Je
As Je
"Bring a flame for the lamp, please?" he asked as he set his armload of items on the table.
Je
"How is the boy?" she asked in a whisper.
He glanced across the room. "Not good."
"What can I do to help?" Je
He wiggled the stopper from ajar. "Well, if you wouldn't mind, bring over the mortar and pestle from the center cupboard."
Je
His face didn't rivet her, the way Wizard Rahl's so unexpectedly had. She saw nothing in this man's round eyes, straight brow, or the pleasant enough line of his mouth that looked at all familiar to her. He gestured to a bottle made of wavy green glass.
"If you would, could you please grind one of those for me?"
While he hurried to the corner to lift a brown crockery pot down from a high shelf, Je
Just like the magical symbol, these things had an outer circle, parts that suggested a square inside that, and a smaller circle inside the square. Overlaying it all, tying it together, was another structure rather like a fat star. While not exactly a Grace, the way she had always seen it drawn, it bore a remarkable resemblance.
"What is this?" she asked.
The healer cast off his cloak and pushed up the sleeves of his simple robes. "Part of a flower-the dried base of the filament from a mountain fever rose. Pretty little things, they are. I'm sure you must have seen them before. They come in a variety of colors, depending on where they grow, but they're best known for the common blush color. Hasn't your husband ever brought you a nosegay of mountain fever roses?"
Je
"Oh," he said, sounding neither surprised nor curious. He pointed. "See there? The petals are attached to it here, and here. When the petals and stamen are removed and this selected part of the head is dried, they end up looking like this."
Je
He nodded, returning her smile. "And like the Grace, it can be beneficial, but it can also be deadly."
"How is it possible to be both beneficial and deadly?"
"One of those dried flower heads, ground up and added to this drink, will help the boy sleep deeply so he can fight off the fever, help drive it from him. More than one, though, actually causes fever."
"Really?"
Looking as if he had anticipated her question, he held up a finger as he leaned closer. "If you were to take two dozen, thirty for certain, there would be no cure. Such a fever is swiftly fatal. It's for this effect that the plant is named." He showed her a sly smile. "In many ways an apt name for a flower so associated with love."
"I suppose," she said, thinking it over. "But if you ate more than one, but less than a couple dozen, would you still die?"
"If you were foolish enough to crush up ten or twelve and add them to your tea, you would come down with a fever."
"And then you would eventually die, just as if you ate more?" -
He smiled at the earnest concern on her face. "No. If you ate that many, it would cause a mild fever. In a day or two you would be over it."
Je
"It's not going to harm you to touch one," he said, seeing her reaction to the jarful. "You'd have to eat them to be affected. Even then, as I said, one in conjunction with other things will help the boy's fever."
Je
"If it was for an adult who was awake, I'd just crush it between my thumb and finger," the healer said as he drizzled honey into the cup, "but he's little and asleep besides. I need to get him to drink it down easily, so grind it to a dust."
When he was finished, he added the dark dust of the little fever rose flower head Jermsen had crushed for him. Like the Grace it resembled, it could be lifesaving, or lethal.
She wondered what Sebastian would think of such a thing. She wondered if Brother Narev would want such mountain fever roses eradicated because they could potentially be lethal.
Je
While they worked, Sebastian returned from the barn. Before he closed the door, she saw stars outside. A wave of cold air rolled past her legs, sending a shiver through her shoulders. When the wind died like this as the sky cleared, it often meant a bone-chilling cold night.
Sebastian made for the fire, eager to warm himself. Je
:,Are this woman and child kin?" he said.
'No," Jermsen said. With the warmth of the fire, she removed her cloak, too, and laid it over the bench at the table. "We saw her on the road, and she needed help. We just gave her a ride here."
"Ah," he said. "She will be welcome to sleep here with her boy. I need to keep my eye on him through the night." She had forgotten about the singular nature of the knife she wore at her belt until he noticed it. "Please," he said, "help yourself to the stew I have cooking; we always have plenty at hand for those who may come here. It's late to be traveling. You both are welcome to use the cabins for the night. They're all empty at present, so you may each have your own for the night."
"That would be a kindness," Sebastian said. "Thank you."
Jermsen was about to say that they could share one cabin, when she realized that he had said that because she had told him that Sebastian wasn't her husband. She realized how it would look if she said anything to change the plan, so she didn't.
Besides, the idea of sleeping with Sebastian outdoors was only natural and i
Jermsen gestured to include the general area. "Is this the place of the Raug'Moss?"
He smiled at her question, as if he found it amusing but didn't want to mock her ignorance. "By no means. This is just one of several small outposts we use when we travel-shelter-and a place where people who need our services can come to us."
"The boy is lucky you were here, then," Sebastian said.
The Raug'Moss studied Sebastian's eyes for a moment. "If he lives, I will be pleased that I was here to help him. We frequently have a brother at this station."
"Why is that?" Jermsen asked.
"Outposts such as this help provide the Raug'Moss with income from serving the needs of people with no other access to healers."
"Income?" Je
"The stew, the hearth, the roof we offer, they do not appear magically because there is a need. People who come to us for the knowledge we've spent a lifetime acquiring are expected to contribute something in exchange for that help. After all, if we starve to death, how can we then help anyone else? Charity, if you have the means, is a personal choice, but charity which is expected or compelled is simply a polite word for slavery."