The Tome of Agrimar

Chapter Seven

The air was thick and heavy with the mix of scents and fumes from brewing potions. Even with windows open wide to let in the bright sun of midday, the heat only added to the assaulting cacophonous array as the fresh outside air seemed to avoid mingling with that in the hut. A cool breeze did nothing to lessen its strength, and it was as if the still, warm air presented a physical barrier.

The air alone, however, was not the only obstacle. One could hardly take a step without brushing across something green. The place was littered with plants, potted all along the floors, hanging from the ceiling and windows, and even crawling up the walls. Some felt dry and leafy, tickling the skin and creating the unsettling sensation of an insect creeping along ones neck. Others felt more like the slimy tendrils of a grasping sea creature. Some were soft as velvet, and others poked and jabbed as if prodding visitors along.

Few bothered to enter the hut, merely picking up their concoctions at the door. Yet the blind old potions master was quite at ease in her abode. There was nary a murmur of twig or leaf as she went about her work, the foliage and air that blocked intruders guiding her amongst the bubbling brews in her cauldrons and jars so well that newcomers often questioned the veracity of her blindness. Some even believed she pretended to be blind, a skilled bit of showmanship. However, the few who had seen her venture outside her little hut knew for certain it rendered her nearly helpless on unfamiliar ground.

Her ears, though, functioned perfectly, and so it was that she heard the harried cough of a traveler on the road. “That is the cough of death, young man,” her voice was hoarse and wrinkled as her old skin, and she brushed a hanging vine from her face as she approached her open doorway. “If you aren’t on your way to visit me, you will soon be on your way to visit loved-ones passed.”

“I knew you weren’t okay!” Piped the voice of an exuberant, feminine youth which must have matched the light, nearly silent footsteps which trailed the coughing young man. “She says you’re going to die, Talon! How will we find Thradris then? I bet she has a potion that can help. There’s all kinds of great healing potions, and maybe she knows something about Thradris, too.” There was a shifting of feet as the coughing slowly quieted and the young woman’s voice came from right in front of the potions master, her excited breath brushing the air. “His coughing just keeps getting worse and worse, but he keeps saying he’s okay. Last night, I think there was even blood on the cloth he used to wipe his mouth, but he wouldn’t let me see it! I told him he needs to see a healer, but he won’t. We just keep looking for Thradris, but-“ She lowered her voice to a whisper, as if speaking to the old woman in confidence for fear she would upset Talon. “We haven’t made any progress, and it’s been two days, and I don’t know how he expects to find anyone when he’s coughing like that. It’s so silly. I—“

“That is quite enough, little one,” answered another voice, presumably Talon’s. It was young and strong, despite the coughing, and the words seemed to carry throughout the hut, sending a whisper through the varied foliage. “I’m not going to die.”

The smaller voice spoke up urgently, “You will if you don’t do something about that cough. I keep telling you—“

“Do you have any fenugreek?” the young man asked, cutting off his companion. His voice once again seemed to permeate the room, causing leaves to rustle with apparent interest. The old potions master smiled.

“An interesting choice,” she replied, her voice creaking with amusement as she sensed the young woman’s surprise in her sudden quiet. “Are you sure you would not prefer mullein or comfrey?”

“No. Fenugreek will do fine,” Talon answered.

“Have you already been using fenugreek?” the old woman questioned further, her interest piqued. His confidence in his choice revealed more to the potions master than it would to anyone less experienced in herbs and plants. A simple cough from bronchial complications would be best treated with mullein, a cough from allergies with comfrey. To choose fenugreek suggested an injury had brought on the cough. That he had made such a choice on his own and was not seeking her guidance in making a better choice suggested he knew his herbs as well.

“Regularly,” came the reply along with another harried bout of coughing.

“And it is not working?” though she could not see it, the potions master knew the young man was glaring at her, as if his coughing was not evidence enough. She smiled. Though the young man may be knowledgeable about plants, he could not know as much as a woman nearly a century old who had spent her entire life in such study. He had been smart to choose fenugreek for an injury to the lung, but the fact that he was not recovering belied something more. “It is good you have been using fenugreek and not some other simple cough suppressant, but if this continues you will soon be at death’s door. I suggest you try ephedra in its stead.”

Irritation was heavy in the reply, “I have not been poisoned, wise one, though I appreciate your concern. I just need more fenugreek.”

“No?” she questioned, not moving from her spot in the doorway, her knowing smile ever present. She was certain now that she was correct. “Let me guess. You were stabbed in the chest, no? Punctured a lung? Fenugreek would seem the natural solution, and it will hold off any toxins for a time, but it is no cure. Now that the wound is healing, you’d best begin taking ephedra. Or perhaps elecampane if you need something stronger.”

For lack of sound, the young woman had almost been forgotten, but she spoke now her voice flowing with awe. “Yes, yes!” A slight thumping indicated that she must be hopping in place. “I found him that way! He had blood all over his chest. You know, my father was a healer and I tried to help him, but he insisted on taking care of it himself. I knew he wasn’t okay, but he wouldn’t listen to me. I didn’t think he’d been poisoned though, but you should know better than I would. Do you have a boneset potion? I bet that would help.”

The older woman chuckled. “A good amateur guess,” she said. “But boneset works best for ingested poisons, and the weapon which stabbed your friend clearly was not tipped with a strong poison or he would already be dead without a direct antidote. Ephedra or elecampane are preferred for injury to the lung and the removal of toxins.”

Talon sighed. “Perhaps you are right,” he muttered. “Very well. Ephedra, if you please.”

“Right away, young man,” the potions master gave the pair a nod and turned inside. When she returned, she held a bag of crushed leaves which she offered to Talon in exchange for a few coins. As their hands touched, the hanging vine curled around them slightly, tendrils tickling her flesh. “Druid,” she whispered. Though she could not see it, the young man held a steady gaze on her face- neither an affirmation nor denial of her words. He did not have to say anything though. His knowledge and familiarity with the plants was evidence enough. The cackle of a raven which must have been settled on his shoulder was the only reply.

“Thank you,” Talon said softly as he turned away, the young woman following in his footsteps.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking fenugreek?” the small voice piped in. “I knew you weren’t okay. Why didn’t you say something? You just let me worry about you like that?”

“You said you were looking for someone?” the old potions master called out before the pair could walk too far. “I may be blind, but perhaps I could help? Many travelers frequent my door, as do many regulars in town. I may be able to point you in the right direction. What was his name?”

The pair returned to her door, the voice of the young woman continuing to flow like a trickling stream. “Finally, we’ve found someone who might know something useful. And she’s friendly too. I knew we’d make progress once we took care of your cough. See?”

“Peace, little one,” the druid answered, clearly exasperated as though he’d had to repeat requests for her quiet frequently. He then turned to the older woman, stifling another cough as he spoke. “Do you know anyone who might know the whereabouts of Thradris? We hear tell that he lives in hermitage near this city, but no one seems to know exactly where.”

“Thradris,” the old woman replied. “That is a name I hear quite regularly, though I have never met the man. Or elf, is it? It is difficult to keep up with the identifying terms based on appearances. People can be so quick to judge others on only what they see. Why just the other day this boy was trying to warn me that I would be assassinated if I kept letting that dark-skinned elf in my hut, but I doubt he would raise a weapon in anything but self-defense.”

“Wait,” Talon interrupted. “You know Thradris?”

“No,” cracked the potions master. “You weren’t listening. I’ve never met Thradris. I do, however, have the acquaintance of his son, young Melonzriel. He comes by my little hut regularly, not on my account though. I believe he is interested in my granddaughter, Valorie. He gets quite a bit of grief over it. There are many young men seeking her favor, and they certainly do not like the challenge he presents. A couple times, he was even run out of town. Never raised his sword, though he has the confident footing of a swordsman.”

A mixture of emotions flooded into the young druid’s voice. Relief, excitement, confusion… “So Bargal was right...” Talon muttered to himself. “You’re sure this Melonzriel is a dark-skinned elf, related to Thradris?”

“I wouldn’t know firsthand now, would I?” the blind woman smiled. “But yes. Melonzriel’s visits to the town would not be so detested if he were lighter-skinned, like the moon-elves settled not far from here. Oh, the people have their prejudices certainly, but they tolerate elvin visits. But give an elf dark skin and everyone seems to hate him. Honestly. There is more to a person than the color of their skin.”

Talon nodded absentmindedly, though the woman could not see it. His next words sounded hesitant, “When might you expect to see Melonzriel again?”

“Hmm…” the elderly woman pursed her lips in thought. “He is out in the garden with Valorie now, I believe. You are welcome to wait for him.”

“That would be most appreciated,” Talon put a hand on her shoulder in thanks, as she could not see a bow. “Perhaps we should get acquainted while we wait. You may call me Talon. The bird is Luscious, and my companion here is Kendra.”

“I am Olivia,” the older woman replied, “and I am always pleased to make the acquaintance of a druid. You must tell me why you are so eager to find this Thradris. Please, come inside. I’ll brew up some hot water for your ephedra while we wait.” She stepped aside to welcome in her guests.

Kendra hurried in, Talon not far behind and he took Olivia’s hand again as Luscious took to the air and landed somewhere on the roof. “Thank you,” he said.

“You are most welcome,” Olivia answered. “Now, perhaps you might like to tell me what has brought you to take up this search at risk to your own health.”