Fennel Thistledown's Arc

Chapter 20 of 21

Fennel had barely rested her knees when a fist pounded her door. A villager stumbled in, pale and shaking. "My brother," he gasped. "He ate flowers off a strange bush. Bright little blooms, brown leaves. Now he can't stand. He's foaming at the mouth." Fennel's stomach dropped. She knew that plant. Its pretty blossoms hid a killer. She rose, and her stiff knees buckled under her. She caught the table and stayed standing, but she could not walk to a sickbed. Not today. She looked at Lily and Oliver. "You've learned nine poisons now. This is one of them. The bush with tiny bright flowers and brown foliage. It stops the breath." She pointed to her shelf. "There's an antidote. Pale toxicbloom flower, steeped with green herbs. You've read it. You've never made it." Oliver was already pulling the jar down. "How much?" he asked. No wasted words. "Three petals. Steep them slow. Add the smooth green leaves last." Fennel gripped the chair. "If you boil it too hard, you kill the cure. If you rush the dose, you kill him." Lily tied her apron. "We'll bring the water beast for the load," she said. "No. Faster to run." She corrected herself and grabbed the antidote jar. "Oliver steeps. I'll check the breathing." They were gone before Fennel could sit. She lowered herself into the chair and stared at the door. Her hands wanted to be there. Her knees would not carry them. She had taught these two everything she could. Now she had to trust it held. The wait stretched long. The lava beast warmed the garden beds outside, and Fennel watched steam rise and thought of a stranger's brother choking on the floor. She had healed for fifty years. She had never sat still through a poisoning. Dusk came before the door opened. Lily entered first, sleeves soaked, face drawn. Oliver followed, carrying the empty jar. Fennel's breath stopped. "He's breathing," Lily said. "Slow, but steady. The foaming stopped." She sat down hard on the bench. "We steeped it too weak the first time. Oliver caught it. He made me start over." Oliver set the jar on the table. "Three petals. Slow heat. Like you said." He shrugged. "He drank it. He kept it down. His color came back." Fennel's eyes stung. "You saved him without me." "We saved him because of you," Lily said. She pulled the smooth leaf and the fuzzy one from her pocket, still testing herself even now. "But yes. You weren't there. We didn't need you standing over us." Fennel heard it clearly. Her knees had failed, and it had not mattered. Two healers walked out her door and brought a man back from poison. She felt the loss and the pride at once. "Nine poisons taught," she said. "Three left. And I think you two are nearly done needing me."