CHAPTER 13
Layna sat in front of the fireplace, prodding at the thick concoction that Mila had been adding odd ingredients to all morning. “What exactly is this going to be?”
Mila chuckled at her and answered, “It’s a plaster for setting broken bones, specifically for the little boy who will be coming in to have his broken leg set after breaking it underneath a wagon wheel.”
“Are you a seer now too?” Layna asked incredulously, causing the woman to laugh again.
“Hardly, child. But I do make it my business to know what’s going on.”
Layna sighed. Mila was a pleasure to be around, and she had a wealth of knowledge stemming from years of research and experimenting. Despite her old age, she was as witty and sharp as ever, and could still remember every ingredient to any potion or poultice she had to mix up. But she was cryptic. Layna found it difficult to get a straight answer out of the healer. Most of the time she would make Layna guess what ingredients she thought should be added to a potion before telling her what it really was supposed to be. At least Layna was improving her own knowledge, and the guessing game had become slightly less frustrating as she learned what each of the individual ingredients was for.
Layna had been learning a lot about the world in general during her stay with Mila. She had never realized how sheltered she had been in a noble household – even with all the rumors of what really went on there – and before that at her family's isolated farm. Her troubles now seemed minuscule compared to what some of the patients who came through here had to deal with on a daily basis. Many could not afford to pay Mila conventionally for her services, and Mila ended up with all manner of unusual substitutes for her fee. She was happy to accept whatever form of payment they were able to make; even, in one case, a song by a traveling minstrel who had nothing else to offer. Mila had accepted it as though it was the most valuable gift he could have given her, and the healing inside had matched the healing of his body when he left.
Contrary to Layna's former belief, Mila actually did have talent, and she used it without reservation for any that traditional medicine wouldn't help. How Mila had managed to hide the fact that she healed with talent from detection, or learned how to use it in the first place, was one of those secrets she refused to share with Layna. Even without the use of her talent, Mila was able to fix almost any ill, and made it her mission to heal anyone and everyone who needed it.
It was more than could be said for the temple healers. They had healing talent for sure, but were much stingier in their use of it. Like most things, it cost a small fortune to have them use talent to heal you, so again only the nobles could afford it. Layna had seen one of the temple healers performing on a Miracle Day, and it was incredible what they could do. She had seen them cure a man of the final stages of the plague, right before her eyes. His lesions had visibly shrunk to nothing, and his grey pallor had disappeared. By the time he left, he looked as though he had never been afflicted. If they would just offer that to everyone, imagine the suffering they could end! But they didn't. They had free clinics that would use the type of healing Mila did, but they were nowhere near her proficiency, and without a steep fee, talent was never an option no matter how dire the situation.
A knock sounded at the door, and Layna hurried to answer before Mila could lift her stiff body out of her chair. Layna opened it, and was surprised to see the woodsman – Charles - carrying a small boy. The boy's eyes were red and swollen from crying and he was whimpering softly.
“Move aside, young lady,” ordered Charles gruffly.
Layna complied, holding the door so he could carefully maneuver the boy in without bumping his leg. He carried the boy to the bed next to Mila's chair and set him down gently, brushing a stray blond hair off his forehead.
“There you are laddy, Mila here'll take real good care of you, don't you worry one little bit.”
“That's right,” said Mila comfortingly. “You'll be back to frolicking about in no time.” She handed him a steaming mug. “Here, drink this.” At the boy's hesitation she added, “It's a simple sleeping potion so that you won't feel it as we set your leg.” He took it from her and sipped it carefully, with a look that said he was expecting it to be disgusting. His eyes brightened as he tasted the sweet liquid, and he gulped it down. Soon he was sleeping soundly, looking peaceful despite his leg, which seemed to be lying at an odd angle.
“His leg's all puckeroo,” Charles informed them needlessly.
Mila pulled back the boy’s pant leg, and felt around at the bone. “Hmmm, good good,” she mumbled to herself. Suddenly, with an audible snap, she popped the bone back into place. She held out a hand to Layna, who offered her a rag after dipping it in the plaster they had just made up. With expert hands, Mila wrapped the rag around his leg, and held her hand out to Layna again. They repeated this process to create a cast for the boy so that his bone could heal.
When the cast was in place, Mila held her hand above his leg for a few moments, and Layna knew she was beginning the healing process by creating webs with her talent. She wouldn’t heal the whole thing, as doing so would require a great deal of strength to actually grow new tissue. It would also result in needless pain to the boy, whose body would have a harder time adjusting to it being healed so quickly. In short order, Mila had finished, and she pulled the covers up tight around the sleeping boy. He snuggled into them, a peaceful smile playing on his sleeping face.
“Don't know how to thank you,” the woodsman said brusquely to Mila.
“It's nothing, Charles; you would do the same for me.”
“Hmph,” he grunted in reply. He then asked, “Do you mind if I let him sleep here a bit? I've gotta be someone's factotum, and then I'll come back to fetch him?”
“That would be fine.”
The woodsman nodded his thanks as he stepped out. “He's a little strange, don't you think?” Layna commented to Mila as soon as Charles had left.
The woman looked at her sharply. “You'd best hold your tongue when speaking ill of others. Poor Charles can come off a bit strange, but he is one of the noblest men I’ve ever met and he has his reasons. His life hasn’t all been pleasant. You should be careful to reserve judgment until you understand the reasons behind people’s seemingly odd actions. More often than not, first impressions are false impressions.” She paused, and her tone took on a lighter note. “Though he does sometimes practice a bit of epeolatry.” She winked at Layna, who shook her head and wrinkled her nose, having no more idea what Mila had just called him than she did when talking to the man himself. “I think most of it is an act to keep people from asking questions,” Mila added as an afterthought.
“What happened to him?” Layna asked, curious to know the whole story despite her embarrassment.
“It's not my place to tell you,” Mila answered with a shrug. “If ever he decides you should know, you will. Until then, just keep in mind that you have no idea what has happened in anyone's life but your own.”
Some time later Charles returned for the boy who gave him a joyful hug upon his arrival. “Won't you stay for a while and have some tea with us?” Mila implored the two.
After glancing at the round eyes and pouting lip that the boy gave him, Charles laughed and gave in, “Alright,” he consented, “I s’pose we could play the quidnunc a bit, but just for a minute.”
They all settled themselves around the fireplace, and the woodsman regaled them with stories from the wilderness and tales he had been told in his travels. After a while, they heard the sound of boots being banged against each other outside the door in an effort to rid them of snow. A moment later Gryffon entered, his cheeks rosy from the cold. Layna had been happy to realize that Gryffon would be staying close by after having been kicked out of Jezebel’s manor, and though he had to be careful about his visits so as not to give away her location – how strange to be a fugitive! – he did come by as frequently a
s he could.
He looked around at their little group, and smiled 'hello' to everyone, going over to shake hands with Charles. He shook snow out of his hair and removed his wet clothing, taking care to hang them where they could drip as the snow melted off them. He grabbed himself a cup of tea and took a seat on the floor, cradling his cup to warm his hands.
“You didn't finish your story!” the little boy accused the woodsman, whose latest tale had been interrupted by Gryffon's entrance.
“Right you are.” Charles smiled down at the boy. He took up the narration where he had left off. “So out on the edge of the North Woods I was, lookin’ out over the Ferryn Plains. I swear upon my dear old mother's grave, that what I saw was a dragon god.” He saw Layna and Gryffon's looks of disbelief and he held up a hand to them, “I ain't bein' no quipster here, it was plain as day. It spread it great ol' wings and took to the sky. Too far off to tell much about it, but no doubt in my mind that it was indeed a dragon. They used to walk among us as dragons, the gods did. There have been other strange occurrences out there as well. Like I was telling ya in the market about the magical beasties returning. Though it may sound like crazy talk, it would be wise to not dismiss it out of hand. This is a strange time we live in, I can feel it in my bones getting’ stranger as we speak.” He lifted himself up out of the chair and bent down with a grunt to pick up the boy. “Come along David, it's high time we got you home.”
After they had said their good-byes and headed out the door, Gryffon turned to Mila. “Do you believe in all these sightings?”
Mila simply shrugged saying, “There are many things in this world that we are unaware of.” She wouldn't say any more, no matter how they begged. Finally they gave up, and Layna and Gryffon moved upstairs to chat in Layna's room.
“How'd court go?” Layna asked him as they settled themselves on the pillows she had put in front of her fire. Today had been the hearing where the court decided whether or not Gryffon’s debt to Jezebel had been paid off.
“Not bad,” he answered. “Pretty much as expected. I managed to keep Fly and Axe, but she got the rest of the horses. Luckily, the Justice agreed that I had provided adequate service in repayment for the debt, so other than the horses and a few other minor possessions, I am now completely untied to the devil lady.”
“That's very good news.”
“For sure. You should have heard the lies that she spewed out though. It was almost funny. Her entire speech is so riddled with fabrications, it's incredible. According to her, I'm both involved in all sorts of side businesses that are making me all this money that I should be able to give her in interest for her 'kindness'; but then in the same breath, she calls me out as a lazy bum that does nothing all day. Go figure.”
Layna shook her head in disbelief. “What a horrible person.”
“I did manage to get your note to Katrina though, and she looked well. Obviously no one has been the wiser as to her involvement.”
“That’s good, thank you for doing that.” Layna looked down, feeling shy. It was odd to be sitting in her bedroom talking to him. She picked at her nails uncomfortably, trying to find something else to say.
“Well,” he said, getting up from his chair, “I guess I should be getting back.”
“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly, rising from the bed to walk him out. She opened the door and held it open for him, and he brushed against her softly as he passed. He paused and looked back at her, and she waited in anticipation as he leaned closer. His lips brushed briefly across hers for a moment, almost a kiss, as he moved his head close and he whispered sensually in her ear.
“Goodnight.”
Layna clicked the door shut behind him, leaning her back against it as she closed her eyes in bliss. She pressed her lips together, remembering the sensation of his lips dancing across hers, and sighed.
She missed him already.