Much is demanded of a Healer and inner peace is her only reward. She must seek neither power nor wealth. To walk in the Way is difficult and not all who try will succeed.
When a
Healer names a man as
Jindera
left the herb storage hut and strode toward the cottage. Clouds dimmed the
morning sun, then slid away. The leaves of the oka trees rustled in the summer
breeze and the mingled scents of herbals and seasonings swirled around her. The
coming of clouds meant a storm approached, but she felt certain no rain would
fall this day.
Would the
medicinals she would brew from the herbals she’d selected be of any help? She
could only hope. All night, she’d fought the fever raging through her mother’s
body and had seen no change.
“Mama, why
did you leave the Healers’ House?” Her
mother could have remained and raised her children with the sons and daughters
of the other Healers. On his tenth birthday, Jindera’s twin would have been
sent to his father. But Jindera’s mother had chosen to leave. Love for a man
had been her reason.
Tears
blurred Jindera’s sight. She had loved her father dearly. His death seven
lunars before had brought sadness to a home where love had ruled.
Rays of
sunlight glinted on the golden stones of the cottage and brightened the dull
yellow of the thatch. Jindera hurried along the garden paths that meandered
among the beds of herbals and seasonings.
The plants
flourished. Lajin’s touch, she thought. Her brother had only to tend any ailing
plant and it thrived. She paused at the cottage door and peered along the road
from the village. Her twin should return soon with the staples he’d gone to
fetch.
The stench
of illness pervaded the room where her mother lay on a narrow cot. Jindera’s
breath caught. For a moment, she thought her mother had left this plane without
the blessing to release her.
Holding
back a sob, Jindera fled to the kitchen to blend a fever potion. She carried
the mug of steaming liquid to the sick room and spooned the medicinal into her
mother’s mouth. A drop or two fell on the linen sheet and spread like the tears
Jindera held inside. She inhaled deeply. She had to hold grief and fear at bay.
When the mug was empty, she rested her head on the edge of the mattress and
prayed the remedy would work.
She jerked
awake. How long had she slept? The light in the room told her ‘twas near
midday.
The rasp of
labored breathing filled her ears. She felt her own breaths fall into the same
pattern. She raised her head and turned toward the door. Where was Lajin? She
tried to reach him on the inner path where they could speak in secret. Flight. Fear.
What had happened to him? Her hands and body shook. His fear or hers?
Jindera
rose and looked outside. The fragrant scents of the garden brought a welcome
calmness to her troubled spirit. ‘Twas a false hope. If Mama dies, what will
Lajin and I do? Having but sixteen years, they weren’t old enough to hold the
land.
She heard a
rasping cough and turned back to the cot. Her mother’s eyes were open. A wave
of hope spread through Jindera. “Mama.”
“Leave. You.
Lajin. Go soon. Danger comes.”
“We can’t
leave you without saying the blessing.”
“Must.” Racking spasms shook her mother’s body.
“Mama,
don’t talk.”
“Must. Once.
Three sisters.”
Jindera
listened to her mother’s halting words. A grandsire who was a Master Wizard. Mama
born on the desert and leaving with her older sister for a Healers’ House. How
her two sisters wanted power and schemed to obtain control of others. One who
had talent. One who had none. Mama who had talent and wanted love.
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