Bethberry stood for some time peering at the newcomers, this lad Faleron and the lass Odessa. Like all pampered and wealthy youth, they were shallow and headstrong, somewhat thoughtless and giddy in their immaturity. Now wonder Ioreth had sent them on a journey rather than sit them down in her House of Healing.
"It's healing you want, you're sure now? No other talent or skill or occupation?" Bethberry made a solemn face, one more suited to the depths of profound metaphysics than that of romantic enthusiasm.
"Oh yes," replied Odessa with nary a glance to the Innkeeper's face. "I mean, it is so interesting, gathering all those sweet smelling herbs and flowers and making lovely oils."
"It is a time-consuming occupation, and one which requires a steady head and good memory and patience."
"yes, yes, but it must be so much fun to gather all the things you need."
"Nettles, do you know how to gather nettles? And deadly nightshade? and foxglove and monkshood? So the sting and the poisons affect you not?"
"er, no," replied the lass. "But she is very eager to learn," interjected the boy. She thinks it is preferable to being cooped up all day in a small room."
Bethberry gave in to a silent reflection upon the woman Ioreth, who she knew well. She believed she was beginning to understand the true nature of the matter.
"There are indeed many aspects of the art. And much to learn about the frailties and disabilities and humble qualities of the human body. And yet you are keen? So keen you can learn it all in four days?" Bethberry kept her face at a grave demeanour, full of solemn earnestness.
Odessa nodded yes to every thing, several times over. The Innkeeper turned to the boy.
"And what are you to do while your sister takes up the art of healing? Will you become her apprentice, working at her side?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. I did promise to watch over her." He elbowed her back and gave a distained grimace at her tongue.
"Very well then. I can put you to your first lesson immediately."
"Immediately? No time to eat after a long journey?" questioned the girl.
"yes, some things cannot wait."
"In the back kitchen there hangs some long overalls. Frodides will show you where they are and help you put them on if you require help."
The girl's eyes widened with excitement.
"This is the first step, but one of the most important steps, in ensuring that the healer's herbs and plants grow strong and well."
The boy nodded, a little less enthusiastically than his sister, but still with cheerfulness.
"There is a pile of compost at the back. It must be turned, over and over, to ensure that the slops and vegetable matter decays properly. And, even more important, it must be mixed with nightsoil. Not a large proportion of nightsoil, for too much will risk the spread of illnesses and disease. But you must mix in with fork and shovel the nightsoil, at the proportion of one part nightsoil to nine parts compost. And turn it over and over, to get a good mix in. If you can smell the nightsoil when you are finished, you haven't mixed it thoroughly enough. "
"N-n-nightsoil?" asked Odessa. "What pray tell is that?"
The Innkeeper looked hard at the girl. And then at her brother.
"You get it from the bedpans that the maids have collected from all the rooms. They throw it in a heap at the back of the yard, and it must be dug under. That will be your job, Faleron, after you have carted the right amount to the compost for your sister to add to the heep. Nightsoil is the secret runes of the healer's art, for it tells us many things about the health of humans. Better than reading entrails."
Bethberry stood with nary a smile on her face, but a solemn mask as if she were initiating the two into some arcane secret society.
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