Linnea's Arc

Chapter 14 of 14

The stranger stayed at the barn until dark. Linnea watched him from the cellar steps. He did not knock. He did not leave. He sat on a crate with the list on his knee and waited. She could hide and hope he gave up. But the farmer's wife slept in the house above. His children slept beside her. If Linnea guessed wrong about this man, the soldiers would find them all. She climbed the steps. The farmer's dog rose beside her, broad chest low, a growl in its throat. The stranger did not flinch. That told her something. A thief runs from a dog like this. "You wrote down my door," Linnea said. "Why?" He turned the paper so she could read it. Beside the village name he had written one word. Sick. "My daughter," he said. "She falls. Her body shakes and she bites her tongue and she can't stop. Three fits a week now. I heard a healer walks this list. I've walked it four days." He held up the paper. His hands were cracked from cold. "I don't want your plant. I want you to fix her." Linnea studied his face. No pearls. No fine suit. No lord's badge. Just a father who had run out of road. The dog's growl faded. It sat. She brought him into the cellar. On the shelf sat two plants beside the lantern. One held soft blue and purple blossoms with pale leaves. She had grown it for the shaking sickness, the kind no other petal touched. "Bring her," Linnea said. "But you tell no one where this door is." The man swore it. He left at dawn and came back by noon with a girl half asleep against his shoulder. Linnea pressed a purple petal to the girl's lips. The child breathed it in. Her small hands, clenched tight for days, went loose. She opened her eyes and did not shake. The father wept. He pressed a coin into Linnea's palm. She gave it back. "Send me the sick," she said. "Not the curious. Just the sick." He nodded and carried his daughter up the steps. Then he stopped. "There's a purple cat," he said. "Big as a wolf. It glows. The lord keeps it chained in his castle yard. Folk say it howls all night for someone." Linnea's breath caught. Her guardian. The panther, chained behind stone walls. She had guessed right about the stranger. He was no threat. He would spread her door by word of mouth, sick to sick, and the sanctuary would hold. But now she knew where the panther was kept. And she knew it was calling for her. She looked at the two geckos darting along the shelf, the only creatures left to her. The cellar was safe. It would not stay enough. She had a beast to bring home.