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May 6, 1204
"Uh... hello."
Aspen had forced herself through the apothecary door, but the urge to turn back remained. Speaking, particularly a greeting, was a commitment. She didn't know Aerina well, but she was kin to her in-laws and therefore not a stranger. Now that she'd spoken, she either stayed, or left with the inevitable consequence of some sort of inquiry on the healer's part.
So she could tell herself, anyway.
"Aspen?" Aerina abandoned whatever root she'd been powdering and swept away from the table. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, I suppose." She was, for now. But her daughter's sniffles and the scrapes of Nato's siblings could only sustain her for so long. If she wanted to keep herself sane--while still keeping herself alive--she needed a more reliable supply of light headaches and slight coughs and minor injuries. And she needed something to do.
"I was just wondering if... you maybe needed any help around here? On a voluntary basis, I mean. You don't have to pay me or anything."
"Free help? From a relation by marriage who's expressed no prior interest in herbs and who has a baby at home?" A little blunt, perhaps--but, Aspen supposed she got the confusion. "Not to belittle your offer, but it's quite... out of the blue."
"Yes, I, uh-- I don't know. I never really had much interest in anything, and I just sort of need something to do. Er, something that's just mine, I mean."
"That's fair." But Aerina's lip retained its skeptical clench. "I get the feeling there's more to it, though. I hope you don't mind me prying, but I don't think it's unreasonable to want to know your motives before taking you on."
It wasn't unreasonable. Aerina needed to know how she could use Aspen, how to keep subtle. Aspen needed to know that Aerina believed her, would help her. And, if anything... well, it was an opening. When it came to the less-than-believable, it was better to be asked than to announce.
"All right. So, you're probably going to think I'm crazy, but..."
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 12, 1187
"Nephew!" Aerina greeted Jadin like she did all her nieces and nephews who were older than she was. She hadn't been quite close with any of them--perhaps she'd been closest to Viridis, who'd only be a few months older than she was--but it was still funny enough, the idea of an aunt who was younger than her nieces and nephews, that they usually got a chuckle out of it.
Jadin, however--usually more jovial than Raia or Searle--just grimaced. "Auntie."
"This isn't a social call, is it?"
"Uh... no, not exactly." Figured. Given that they weren't that close, they didn't make a point to make one-on-one visits often. But if Jadin wasn't here to chat, then he had a problem--a problem of her less-than-pleasant specialty. "I've been having some... issues."
A rogue nerve in Aerina's leg twitched. Close or not, there was little worse in the life of a healer than treating one's own friends and family. "What sort of issues?"
"Uh, well... it started with just a rash. I'd had similar rashes before, but they always sort of cleared up on their own after a while." As many rashes did. Many, but not all. "Then I started having some difficulties with, um... elimination. And..."
He flushed. She opted to spare him the trouble. "Other functions of that area?"
"Ye-es. No performance issues--just added irritation when... ready to go." That, Aerina wouldn't have known about firsthand. But Jadin wasn't finished. "Now I've been having some dizzy spells, headaches, fevers, digestive issues--and that's been the best of it. My innards keep flaring up. They're all right now, but sometimes, I swear they're on fire. It's like someone's trying to cook me with my own blood."
"That's a... vivid description." Vivid, and troublesome. She'd run into a healer from Tetranshire while gathering herbs, and the woman had said a man had recently come to her with a similar complaint. 'Flames in the veins', or something to that effect. Sadly, given the story, Aerina did not think Jadin would be the least likely of her relatives to contract the same ailment. "Could I maybe take a look at this rash?"
"Er..." He cringed.
As she'd thought he might.
"It's in kind of a, er... private area..."
NEXT CHAPTER:
August 3, 1185
"How is she?"
Nora didn't have much hope, but on the off-chance that there was good news to be heard, she had to ask.
"Not well. I gave her something to help her sleep; I can't do much more for her at this point." She had expected as much. On the bench by the wall, Aerina slouched. "You know, she's the third I've seen from that brothel this year? The third I couldn't help, I mean."
"Third?"
Her sister-in-law nodded. "There were others too, who were treatable. Maybe that was an earlier stage of the same disease. Am I an idiot for not considering that earlier?"
"No." Though, Nora made a point to later tell her to report after the second serious case in the future. "How long do you think she's been sick?"
"Given how she said her baby looked, I'd guess she first got ill when she wasn't far along."
"And have you seen cases from any other brothels?"
"Only treatable cases, assuming the sickness is the same. Plus a few men, and some of their wives. And some of the madams sent their women in for checkups, just in case."
"And only the women from this brothel became this ill." This brothel didn't have a madam. "Ilvina said her father owns the place?"
"Yes. He's a butcher in the same village. The brothel fell on hard times and he was doing well, so her mother married him to keep them all comfortable. When she died, he claimed ownership. The women couldn't afford to buy him out, so they just went along with it.
"But then he started demanding more and more of the profit. They keep barely any of their earnings, unless they're tipped well. And he doesn't maintain the building or help with their medical care." Aerina sighed; sharing in that sentiment, Nora took a seat next to her. "A pity that none of them mentioned it before."
"Or that none of their boneheaded customers noticed anything amiss." Or worse, had noticed and had done nothing. Her stepson may have been a man grown, but she'd still see to it that he was punished accordingly--if Severin hadn't already beaten her to it. "I'll send word to Octavius to shut down that brothel until we get to the bottom of this, and to unleash Florian on that butcher. I should hope he'll be punished either way, but if he cooperates at all, that will ease parts of the fallout." Not that she was particularly optimistic about this man's willingness to admit to much.
"I hope the men don't go easy on him, robbing his employees blind and laying the groundwork for a public health crisis."
"The sentence ought to be according."
"Of course." Aerina rustled, the back locks of her hair bunching in loops as she slumped further. "But so often, it isn't."
NEXT CHAPTER:
September 3, 1180
"Papa, why does Mama need mushrooms?" Hal took a few cautious steps toward the basket and studied them with an unconvincing grimace. "She's not going to make us eat them, is she? Mushrooms are gross."
Had cringed. Leave it to a seven-year-old boy to say the most unintentionally rude things in public; Had's little brothers ought to have taught him that much. "Hal! Apologize to Mistress Aerina!"
Hal opened his mouth to do just that, but ever the even-tempered saleswoman, Aerina just picked her little daughter up from the ground and shook her head. It was still a shock and a shame that old Laveria's shop had had to change hands at all, but even old Laveria couldn't have birthed a more capable daughter. "It's fine, Had; I'm not wild about mushrooms myself, really. And don't worry, Hal, your mother won't make you eat these. They're just for her. These particular mushrooms can help with aches and pains while women are expecting."
"Hear that, squirt?" Had shot a wink to Aerina before staring down his son. If Hal could embarrass him in public, then the boy was fair game for teasing. "None of you kids are going to have to eat the mushrooms--except your new baby sister, of course."
"Brother!" Hal corrected, indignant and insistent, just as expected. "One sister's bad enough!"
Little Laveria took to answering that, sticking out her tongue despite not even being Hal's sister. She probably didn't get such comments from her own mild-mannered brother. Had chuckled. "You tell him, sweetheart."
"Be nice," Aerina scolded the little girl. "Anyway, I hope Lyraina hasn't been too uncomfortable."
Had shook his head. "Not really. It's just that she's not the sort to take it easy, you know? Always has to be busy. I offered to hire someone to take care of the place for a few months, and your brother said she could have some time off, but it figures that she'd refuse us both. Just wait, she'll give birth in the castle kitchens."
The herbalist laughed. "Well, it's not like they aren't used to births over there."
"If anything, they're missing a new baby a year--well, everyone but his lordship and her ladyship, I wager."
"You'd wager right. Her ladyship had a scare just last week--came here in a panic, asking if there was any chance she'd taken the herbs incorrectly. Lucky for her, her courses resumed a couple days ago."
"Well!" laughed a booming voice from behind. Nearly jumping, Had whipped around to find a stranger some odd feet back, a man of about his father's age, hair sloppily tied back, dressed simply but finely. There was something familiar about that smile, but if he could have placed it, he would have made note. "Commoners freely discussing the nobility's bodily functions in a public place? This is my kind of kingdom!"
A hot surge pulsed through Had's face. So much for needing his son to embarrass him in public. "Oh no, we don't make a habit--"
"That's a shame. Nothing like bold-faced honesty, I find--at least when it comes to spoken word." And why, pray tell, had the man winked at that addendum? "And there's no sense covering up our natural workings, not when they happen to everyone else as well. I say, the best way to fart is to fart for all the world to hear!"
"And smell!" Hal added with a snicker. Had supposed he could only be grateful that the man had chosen an example that wasn't a swearword.
Delighted, the stranger clapped. "Ah, what a clever youngster you have here, good sir!"
"Well, his mother and I like him."
"Good! All parents ought to like their children, fathers and sons especially. My own father didn't give a warthog's backside for me, and look how I turned out!" And yet, he sounded almost proud. "I take it your own father likes you fine?"
Had nodded. "So far as I'm aware."
"Of course he does," the man agreed, despite the fact that he'd probably never met Had's father in his life. "Anyway, I'm sorry to bother you fine people like this... well, actually, I'm not, but it's the polite thing to say." He chuckled to himself again, in some private joke. Had suspected he knew what was so funny. "Truth is, I'm looking for someone, and it turns out she lives somewhere around here. Tell me, does the name Evaleith Ladell mean anything to you?"
"Yes, actually." For all he couldn't see her getting tangled up with this sort. "She's my big sister."
"Really?" The strangers eyes went wide, both excited and amused, rather like a puppy when the master stepped in the door. "Well, what a small world we live in!"
Apparently so. But it would have been nice to know just how small. "So, how do you know her?"
"Oh, funny story." The man tossed back a lock of hair and indulged himself in another laugh. "You see, I'm her father."
NEXT CHAPTER:
April 17, 1180
Severin and his sister had never been particularly close--could anyone have expected them to be, considering she hadn't been born until he already had four-going-on-five children of his own?--but in spite of that, she didn't hesitate to hurl herself into his arms as soon as he'd reached the top of the stairs. And given the circumstances, he wasn't about to object. "How is she?"
"Mmm... not so good." Aerina dried her tearing eyes on Severin's shoulder, sniffling like his children always had when they'd been down with a bad cold. He never could forget how young she was, but today, she seemed even smaller. It made sense. He didn't think he'd ever felt so small himself. "She was asking for you. I think she's awake."
Severin peered around the back of his sister's head for a glimpse of their bedridden mother; through vision alone, he wasn't sure he could confirm it. But her form rustled beneath the blankets and her lashes flickered. She might not have been awake, but at least she was alive.
"Mother?" He made sure to whisper, in case Aerina was wrong.
But as it turned out, she wasn't--not quite. "Severin?"
"Oh, thank God," Aerina muttered as they broke apart. "I'm going to fetch her some water, all right?"
Severin nodded. Aerina stepped around him and hurried down the stairs while he took half-step toward the bed. Their mother's breathing was raspy and uneven, like a March gale in the last of its wintery prime, desperate to sting just one more cheek before spring warmed it to a gentle breeze. Beads of sweat welled from her brow and the shadows stirred beneath her eyes as the dusk crept down upon a thinning red horizon.
She was worse than he'd been, and worse than Riona. Worse even than Lucien, for he'd endured Remiel's touch for God knew how long. Severin's mother had also suffered for years, but that was long ago now. She'd always been tough--he'd never known her not to be--but she wasn't young any more, not as physically resilient for all she'd kept her wits. Perhaps, this time, she couldn't fight it. "Mother?"
"Mmm." Her lashes opened a crack; the exposed iris was blurred and moist, but what he saw of the sclera was a sickly pink. "You're so handsome. I knew you would be... with your father..."
"Mother--"
"Shhh." It took a lengthy inhale to recover from the fricative, but beyond her respiration, all was silent. "Hear that?"
He shook his head. "What?"
"Sounds like voices."
Voices. Alina hadn't mentioned voices, but Nora's mother claimed to have heard that of her late husband as her last minutes drew to a close. Celina said that Farilon had looked to the other side of the bed and addressed his papa. Even Florian--never serious, never reverent, perpetual prankster Florian--swore that Electra had spent her last breaths conversing with her lost love. Private perceptions were never a good sign. "Mother..."
"I don't know them." As if in some last self-deprecating joke, she cracked a small, tired smile. "That tends to happen when you don't let people know you. But they don't sound hostile."
He wished she'd stop talking and let herself rest. He wished she'd keep talking and keep herself alive. "Mama..."
"Hush." Behind him, he heard Aerina ascend the final steps of the staircase. She held the promised cup of water, but one look at their mother and she set it on the table, resigned. She too was a healer, as he had never been. She was blessed and cursed with an innate knowledge of the point at which she could do no more. It wouldn't be until he reached his own deathbed that he knew whether or not he envied her.
"Take care of your families. And each other. I know you will."
So that was it. She'd said it herself. "Mama--"
"Don't worry about me. I've cheated Death more times than I can count." Somehow, she let herself laugh. "Seems he's finally caught on."
"Don't..." Don't what? Don't joke--but what if it eased her suffering? Don't speak--but what if she still had something to say? He knew what he truly wanted to ask, but he couldn't.
He knew, deep down, little as anyone cared to believe it, that there was no point in asking someone never to die.
"Severin?"
He swallowed--but he forced himself to nod. "Yes?"
His mother labored through a few more strained breaths before she shut her eyes again, a fighting scowl battling for a last stand on her lips. "Kill that son of a bitch."
NEXT CHAPTER:
December 9, 1173
In their younger days, Rifden and Searle had been friends--best friends, even. They were the same age, both neat and finicky and neurotic as far as young boys went, and Rifden's older siblings had been employed at the castle where Searle had been a page, so it had been a convenient arrangement. They got along--better than either of them did with most other boys their age, certainly--had similar interests and lived in close enough proximity to visit whenever they pleased.
But life had a funny way of tearing people apart. Jothein had been killed and Rifden had assumed full responsibility of the shop; not too long after, Searle had been knighted and married and off having babies. They'd tried to keep in touch, but there were cabinets to build and lands to manage and there just weren't enough hours in a day or a week or a month to keep up with old friends of a different class. They'd grown apart. That was that.
But suddenly, they were back in each other's lives. Figured that it would happen under such tragic circumstances. "I thought I'd come by to thank you for making that coffin on such short notice."
What could he say? It didn't take long to make such a small coffin. "Least I could do."
Poor man. In comparison to the rest of the continent, child mortality in Naroni was most fortunately low, but the occasional young death was inevitable and Searle's youngest had drawn the short straw. From what Rifden could gather, the little girl had come down with a sudden, brutal sickness and had expired in a matter of days. This was some weeks ago now and the coffin was far back on his mental list of most recent projects, but it was the first time he'd seen Searle since the incident. This was probably the first time the poor man had left his castle since the funeral; the time they'd found that dead kitten seemed such a small matter now.
"Well... I should be going." Searle turned around without so much as an obliging wave. "I'd rather not leave Valira and the girls alone for too long."
"I understand."
"No--you don't." Already halfway out the door, his former friend looked back it him for a couple seconds, his somber aqua eyes weighed down by lids too heavy to lift. "But thanks for the sentiment."
He was quick to leave, but the remnants of the December draft lingered. Rifden grabbed a nearby flint and sparked the fire, holding his hands so close he thought they might melt. Or maybe they couldn't. There was something sinister about hands that made caskets for year-old children; perhaps they were immune to the flames.
Someone else knocked on the door. Rifden shivered; irrational as it was, he couldn't shake the feeling that every customer who walked through that door was in need of a baby grave. He was a good man, or so he made a point to remind himself. He did not display coffins. He didn't care to sell coffins, make coffins. Certainly such small coffins had no fair reason for existing. "Yes?"
"Rifden?"
His spine snapped to an upright position as Laveria's pretty young daughter stepped inside. Aerina was only fifteen, but she'd recently proven old enough to catch his eye as she strode past his shop on her morning walk. He knew her fairly well--she was his next-door neighbor, after all--and he'd always found her pleasant, and rather interesting even if she'd only just achieved such status in the physical sense. He'd considered courting her, but he'd made a point to restrain himself since Searle's daughter had died. Young women of Aerina's caliber deserved better than a man who fashioned coffins for babies.
And yet, he couldn't help but look at her. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
She closed the door and approached him, a grimace on her face but something else entirely in her eyes. She was a lady--she was trying to be cordial--but there was a reason she was here and it was no laughing matter. "I could say the same of you, actually."
Rifden's brow raised as Aerina's mouth fell. What did she mean by that? For all he admired her, he doubted she'd given him a second thought in that regard. "Sorry?"
"I just locked up my mother's shop." Her trembling hands interlocked if only to steady themselves; the attempt was in vain. "She had to leave on a call."
Odd. Laveria was as competent as ever, but she was getting up in years and wasn't widely trusted in any case. She was the last resort. If someone had sent for her, then it was urgent. "What sort of call?"
"I'm not allowed to say." Her arms folded and her shoulders hunched, her entire frame collapsing inward, shaky and unsteady all the while. She wasn't a small and helpless girl, or at least she never had been until that moment and maybe she never would be again. Whatever this was, it disturbed her; whoever it was, she was frightened. "I hate to ask this, but... can I stay here until she gets back? I don't want to be alone today."
NEXT CHAPTER:
