Fennel Thistledown's Arc

Chapter 17 of 21

The girl left at first light. By midday Fennel had settled back into her chair, but she could not sit still. Two students remained. She had taught them to heal. She had not yet taught them what could kill. She called Lily and Oliver to the table and set down a pair of thick leather gloves. "Today you learn the herbs I've kept from you," she said. "The ones that don't cure." She sent them to the wild patch with the gloves and a strict rule: touch nothing bare-handed. They came back within the hour. Oliver carried a cloth bundle at arm's length. He unrolled it on the table. Inside lay a black-leaved plant, its stems veined with deep blue, small thorns along each branch. "We found this at the edge of the stream," Lily said. "It doesn't look like any healing plant. So we brought it to ask." Fennel's stomach turned. "You did right to ask." She leaned close but did not touch. "This is nightbane. The oil in the leaves burns skin. Eat it and your heart stops." She looked at both of them. "It grows near good herbs. A rushed hand grabs the wrong stem. That's how healers kill by mistake." She made them study it. She named the black leaves, the blue veins, the thorns. "Say it back," she told Lily. Lily listed each mark. Then Oliver. Fennel pulled a feverbloom sprig from her apron and laid it beside the black plant. "Now show me you can tell them apart with your eyes closed. By the stem." Oliver shut his eyes and ran a gloved finger down each stem. "Feverbloom is smooth. This one has thorns." He touched the black stem. "Thorns. So this is the poison." "Good," Fennel said. "A blind touch can save a life when the light is bad." Then Lily reached for the black plant. Fennel caught her wrist. "You never carry this loose in a basket with medicine. Never. One leaf brushes a cure and both go in the fire." She had them wrap the plant tight and burn it in the hearth. They watched the black leaves curl to ash. When it was done, Lily wiped her hands and frowned. "You should have taught us this first. Before you ever let us near a sick child." Fennel sat back. Her chair creaked. The girl was right, and the truth of it settled cold in her chest. She had trained three healers to give medicine. She had waited too long to teach them what could poison. "Then we're not finished," she said. "There are more like this one. A dozen that kill. You'll learn every one before I let you work a day without me." Her knees ached. Two students remained, and now a longer list of lessons than she had counted on. Fennel reached for her book and began.