“What is that?” I asked.
“A special medical instrument,” she explained. “Made especially for me by the village cutler. He makes all kinds of special instruments for me. Spoons especially for dispensing tonics. Even this mug.” She tapped the iron handle that twisted around a smooth wood-carved cup.
My mouth went dry at the mention of the cutler. As far as I knew, the Serlo family ran the only guild cutlery in Omrora. Perhaps she wasn’t from here, or she worked with another? I listened, rapt, as she explained.
“My parents got into a bit of trouble with the shire-reeve many years ago. My sister and I were cast out of our home and went through many years of near starvation and isolation. My sister was able to find work in a guild, but I had only ever learned healing. I’d learned that as a child from my mother.” Odile dropped a tonic onto the spoon and then stirred its contents into the water as she spoke. “I was allowed to continue my practice but only on the condition that I never charge for my work.” She chuckled. “I say condition as though it were a gentle request. There was nothing gentle about what happened. My future was decided via written decree from the shire-reeve. Irrevocable, permanent, and binding for as long as I live not just in Omrora, but anywhere in the realm of Tutovl. I am not permitted to charge for the work I’ve dedicated my life to perfecting.”
Odile held the mug out to me and urged me to drink. I accepted it and tried to discreetly sniff it so that I didn’t insult her. Before I drank, I couldn’t help but ask, “How were you to survive if you could not charge for your services?” Then I chanced a tentative sip.
“The kindness of many strangers, for one,” she explained. “Drink, it will not taste badly, and it will not make you feel worse, I’m certain of that,” she urged. “Syndrian made my tools and never charged a penny. The midwife, Molle Noll, would bring laboring women to my cabin and make sure we all had plenty to eat.” She smiled gently. “The laboring women never needed as much bread and cheese as Molle brought. And some of the vendors in town—Matthea, especially—would save any ugly bits of bread and give them to my sister.” She chuckled. “Of course my sister shared the bread with me. People can be surprisingly caring.”
My heart was racing, and for the first time in days, I was able to stave off tears because I was curious. Intensely curious. Was this woman someone special to Syndrian? Was he perhaps taking care of her, since she could not do so for herself? My mind spun, trying to remember every detail Syndrian had mentioned about his life, but he was very, very close-lipped about his work and his family. About many things, it seemed. I knew he had siblings, but not how many, what ages. My sadness renewed as I realized how little I truly knew about the man. Other than his kindness, his humor, the way he made me feel—I might not know him at all.
I took another sip of the beverage, which tasted surprisingly sweet, and looked at the rich blankets that covered my lap. “Why would the cutler make instruments for you?” I asked, trying not to emphasize my interest in her connection tothe cutler. Yet, I had to know. “Is he your…”
Odile sealed up her tonic and dug a hand into another large purse. “Syndrian?” she asked, raising a brow. “Oh no. I have no one special like that in my life. Syndrian is one of the best,” she said, nodding her head. “He has helped so many people, often for no greater reason than because he could. I live with my sister and her husband and a large extended family of sorts…” She laughed again. “This story is going to get complicated. But I will keep it simple. My sister’s husband has a brother, Neo. Syndrian helped Neo’s wife, just after they were married, when she was certain Neo was in grave danger.”
“If not for Syndrian…” Her voice shifted as she pulled a cluster of dried flowers from her sack. She shivered and closed her eyes. “If Brex hadn’t followed her instincts, her husband would likely have been tortured and killed. Syndrian was the one to believe her and to help her rescue her beloved.” She poured a palm’s worth of the yellow buds, their tiny brown stems still attached, into a small wooden bowl.
“But he’s not…yours?” I asked again. Feeling embarrassed, I rushed on to say, “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just—”
“Oh no, quite all right. I enjoy the conversation.” She set a gentle hand on my lap. “Most of the people I see are very sick. Too sick in fact to engage in any meaningful small talk. What ails you might be relieved by just this sort of company, and I do not mind it a bit. In fact, I quite enjoy it.” She checked the pot that hung in my room for water. “Is this fresh?” she asked. “I’d like to make tea.”
I nodded and leaned back, sipping the drink she’d brought. She set the pot to hang over the fire and then returned for the yellow buds.
“I don’t have anyone special at the moment,” she said. “But Syndrian is a good friend. His brother, in fact, drives my cart when he’s able.”
“Really?” I sat up straighter, intensely curious about this. “Which brother? Syndrian never speaks much of his family. Or of his private life at all for that matter.”
“His younger brother, Flynn, is my driver,” Odile said. “He’s but a teen, and quite a handful at that. But I adore him. So do all the children at my house. In fact, just about everyone who knows Flynn adores the boy.”
I finished the drink she’d given me and was feeling more alert and alive than I had in days. “Children?” I echoed. “Are they yours?”
Odile laughed and shook her head, her pale blonde hair tied back in braids. “Ooh! I would love children someday, but for now I am simply housemother of sorts. Neo’s wife—the one I mentioned—she was a foundling. Brex worked in a foundling home that sadly was lost to a fire. She brought along a few of her charges to live with us after she married Neo.”
“What an exciting life!” I exclaimed, hardly able to picture it. “How many children? Are they all related to one another?”
The healer collected the hot water from the fire. Then she picked a few flower buds, dropped those into the mug, and poured hot water over them. “I’ll tell you all about the children. But while I prepare this, why don’t you tell me about Syndrian? I wasn’t aware that you knew him. Then you know he’s quite beautiful as well as quite kind.”
There was no judgment in her tone. No curiosity, even. But the simple question brought my misery back, so I leaned against my pillows and sighed. “He is my brother’s best friend,” I said simply. “I’ve known him for maybe thirteen years? As long as I’ve known I had a brother.” After the words left my lips, I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand. “I…Oh, Odile, I misspoke. I…”
I felt sincerely sick now. I’d been so caught up in idle chatter, in indulgent thoughts of Syndrian and lighter things than the heavy weight of my life, I’d said something I never, ever should have. I reached for her arm and pleaded with her. “I…I have put my family in grave danger by even—”
“Shhhh.” Odile took both of my hands again and squeezed. “First, my dear, you have nothing to worry about. Your every secret is safe with me. As far as anyone in the realm knows, I was never here. But beyond that…” She looked me directly in the eyes, her gaze honest and sincere. “I’ve heard many a sickbed confession.” She chuckled. “You can only imagine how many clients have recovered and regretted things they said while delirious with fever.”
“Are you certain?” I whispered, peering at the door. For all I knew, Lady Lombard herself was posted right outside.
“Let me see,” Odile said. “I believe you were talking about a certain cutler we both know, but I don’t seem to recall how you know him.”
I heaved a deep sigh and fell back against the pillows. “Thank you,” I said, torn with regret. I wondered whether I should share with Odile the depth of my worries when I noticed she’d followed my eyes to the door.
“I think I understand why you’ve been so sick,” she said, lifting the back of her hand to check the temperature of my forehead. She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Even the prettiest lives can be intensely lonely,” she said. “Would you like to get up and dress? It might do your mother good to see you up and about.”
I sighed again but tossed back the covers and climbed out of bed.
“I’m going to leave you with these.” She motioned to the buds before I ducked behind my privacy screen to change into a dress. “Drink a tea steeped in just a few every day until they are gone. If you need more, I’ll gladly return for a visit.”
“What are they?” I asked, joining her by the bedside. My hair was wild, so I grabbed a brush to untangle it, but she shook her head and took the instrument from me.