Railiana Monroe's Arc

Chapter 7 of 10

The strange sprouts kept growing. By the end of the week, Railiana's plot glowed with blossoms she had no name for. One flower shone blue at dusk. A green pod pulsed like a heartbeat. Vines curled into knots on their own. She wanted to sell them at Synthia's tavern. But no buyer would touch food that might be poison. She had no paper proving them safe, no merchant's stamp, nothing but her own word. So she made a choice at the fence. She would eat them herself and find out. She carried the strangest ones into her cottage and set them on the table. The blue flower. A twisted red root. A pod that split into three when she pressed it. She lit the hearth and boiled water in her small pot. Her hands shook as she chopped the root. If these plants could kill, she was about to learn it alone. Tibble climbed onto the bench beside her. He was the small green creature who guarded her plot at night, no taller than her knee, his brown hat sliding over his eyes. He gripped his glowing staff and frowned at the pot. "You breathe that steam and your insides twist like the vines," he said. "Wait. Test one leaf, not a whole meal." He was right. Railiana set down her knife. She tore a single leaf from the blue flower and touched it to her tongue. It tasted of cold water and mint. She waited. Her heart raced, but her stomach held steady. She swallowed. Nothing burned. Nothing turned. So she cut a thin slice of the red root and chewed it slowly. Heat spread through her chest, but a good heat, like broth on a winter night. Her tired arms felt loose. A small ache in her shoulder eased. She stared at the root in her hand. "Tibble," she whispered. "It's not poison. It's medicine." She tested each plant that way, one bite at a time, all afternoon. The pod made her drowsy and calm. The knotted vine, boiled soft, filled her belly for hours. None sickened her. By dusk she sat back, alive and well, with a full plot of proof. But proof did not make coin. Synthia sold ale and stew, not cures for aches and sleepless nights. Railiana looked at the blue leaf still glowing on her table. These were not crops for a food stall. They were remedies. And the only people who bought remedies were healers, herb-women, the kind who traveled between villages and knew a rare thing when they saw it. She wrapped a sample of each plant in clean cloth. Come morning, she would not walk to the tavern. She would need to find someone who dealt in medicine. And she had no idea where such a buyer could be found.