23. Medicine

We were outfitted each with a shawl, a nightgown, a leather half-apron, a sealskin cloak, a cotton cloak, several pairs of socks of varying thickness, a second pair of shifts and stays and four dresses, all similar cuts to the black cotton ones we had been given that morning.

Two were thicker in material, meant for fall and winter, another was a shortsleeved version of our black cotton, meant for spring days and the fourth dress was sleeveless and thin, meant for summer heat.

We were granted the privilege of choosing colors.

While our choices were more muted hues, there was plenty to choose from.

I chose shades of emerald, cyan and teal green for nearly everything except the summer dress.

That one was a celadon color, like green-glazed pottery.

“Mother likes rose.

And dark red,”

Maureen told Zinnia.

Next, Zinnia took us to a cobbler.

We were measured for winter boots that would come midway to our knees, summer boots that laced up to the ankle and a flat pair of slippers that were, while not dancing slippers for a grand lady, rather fetching for shoes meant to be worn inside by a commoner.

“Your captain was magnanimous,”

whispered Catrin.

I did not correct her use of the word ‘your,’ because she was right.

We were given much paid for by him.

I even guessed that for Bronwyn and Eefa, this was more clothes than they had ever owned.

“Magnanimous but likely now insolvent,”

intoned Mischa.

“How much does a soldier really earn? Even a prized one such as these Procurers?”

A pang of discomfort twigged inside me.

Zinnia explained that all of our items would be delivered at the Shark’s Keep soon.

Then she took us to an apothecary and explained that we were free to loiter and look and she went to place an order for chew sticks, a number so great it must have been meant for the keep’s stores.

“I have not brushed my teeth in so long,”

sighed Catrin.

“Me either,”

said Eefa, her grandmother nodding along.

“I cannot wait to rub a chew stick all over mine,”

agreed Maureen.

The apothecary was, like the tailor’s and the cobbler’s, a large building that housed many employees.

Tintarian shops were three times the size of most Ecclestonian shops and other people milled about us, picking up items and putting them down.

I walked away from the rest of the women to where River hunched over, reading the handwritten labels on a shelf of jars.

“For what do we look?”

I asked, squatting next to her where she was trying to read the lowest shelves’ wares.

“I need a powder made from a white toadstool,”

she replied.

“It is not uncommon or usually expensive, but the mushroom has to be dried in the sun and then ground down or it is not as effective.

It is called Tallowgill in some places.”

“And this prevents the seizures?”

River shook her head.

“It only lessens how violent I get and how long they are.”

Quinn came up beside us.

“I found it,”

she was holding up a small jar.

“It is not cheap, River.

They want a fortune.”

River took the jar from Quinn.

“No one will want to hire a woman with fits.

Perhaps I will scrub floors.

I am not above such work, but— I had hoped to find something with a school.

Or scrivener’s work.

I can scribe.”

“They have no universities here,”

said Quinn.

“The sergeant called Thatcher gave Helena extra coin,”

I said when I saw River’s face fall.

“I think he worried that she would need more than the paste they found for her back at the horse farm.

We have our own coin.”

“But it is Helena’s,”

River protested.

“We can pay her back,”

said Quinn.

“Helena would want you to have your Tallowgill,”

I reassured River.

“Yes,”

said Mischa, drawing near.

“Edie and I were going to buy lightleaf and a pipe to smoke it and maybe some fragrance.

Helena would rather we spend the coin on actual needs.”

“Were you really?”

River seemed amused, but her lover seemed surprised.

I admired Quinn and wanted her respect.

“Just oils, no leaf.”

“You could not make such a purchase here in Tintar,”

said River.

“Lightleaf is outlawed?”

Mischa asked.

“No, but the strain they grow here along the coast does not lend itself to drying.

It is a sticky weed that is better made into an oil.

You can put it in water and drink it for your aches and pains.

Or rub it into the skin over a bruise.”

“No smoking?”

Mischa looked depressed.

River beamed.

“I believe a few drops of the oil in any kind of liquor will achieve the same effect as smoking.”

“Thank the gods,”

my friend said.

“How much is the Tallowgill?”

I asked Quinn, opening the pouch.

“Two full silver coins.”

I had expected some copper coins inside that would add up to just that amount, but I had been carrying the pouch around all afternoon and the weight had become familiar.

Inside, were three full silver coins and many copper ones.

Like most coinage on the continent, outside of Perpatane’s stinginess with its gold, Tintarian currency also consisted of silver coin that was marked by grooves into four sections, divisible by a vendor with a heavy knife if they needed to make change.

Smaller copper coins were whole.

Twenty of them equalled a silver.

I fished out two of the silver coins and handed them to Quinn.

“There is one jar.

Let me count out what we have and see if there is enough for a second.”

“One is plenty,”

River said in a rush.

“We will make our own wage soon.”

After some back and forth, River convinced me she only needed the one jar.

Quinn looked torn, wanting to ensure River’s health, but I could tell she was a proud woman and did not enjoy receiving charity.

“And now,”

said Mischa, eyeing the contents of the pouch.

“We’re getting lightleaf oil and fragrance for the four of us.”

“Helena likes roses,”

I said.

“We should take something back for her.”

“We will, Edie! And lavender oil for you and honeysuckle for Maureen.

And I will try something new, something other than lilies.”

Mischa’s dogged cheer about the apothecary’s wares was hard to resist.

If I let my mind stray, thoughts overtook me, thoughts of marrying the reserved Alric, who was, I knew with certainty, not happy about his sentence as my groom and thoughts of the Cian man’s proclamation.

Lady Edie, I believe you’ve earth magic in you.

It was easier to watch Mischa merrily collect scents for the four of us and two vials of lightleaf oil and not think anything at all.

“I am trying birch with mint,”

she sang out, returning to me with Quinn, the two of them having paid while River distracted Zinnia with an onslaught of questions about Tintarian trade.

“Helena will like her essence of rose.”

I said, unstopping the bottle of lavender oil and inhaling.

“Gods, that is so good.

Should we have bought fragrances for everyone?”

“Edie, you’re marrying Tintarian scum for the rest of them.

I think that is plenty.”

“Is that what I am doing?”

Mischa looked at me.

“What would you rather discuss? Marrying the captain tomorrow or how you have magic you did not know you had?”

“Neither, if I am honest.”

“Then let us enjoy our scents and put a drop of lightleaf in whatever spirits we can find tonight and sleep like lambs.

We live, Edie!”

“We should keep our wits about us.”

The sun was high in the sky as we returned to the Shark’s Keep, back through all of the corridors to the dormitory were Helena sat up on one of the beds, a tin cup of water at her lips.

Her back to the rest of the room, Mischa put a drop of the lightleaf oil in the tin cup, mouthing “for the pain.”