Unguilded

by Jane Glatt

  Pain shot up her arm with a brutal intensity.

  “Gyda!” She cradled her hand against her chest and sucked a breath in through gritted teeth.

  The wind direction must have changed because the sound of rushing water reached her now. Kara closed her eyes in relief—there was a stream.

  Gingerly, with her right hand tucked against her chest, she made her way towards the sound of water.

  The banks of the stream were steep, and at some point in the past, the flowing water had been strong enough to undercut them. Now the water flowed slowly over the rocky streambed, leaving a wide, muddy flat between the stream and the overhang.

  Kara slid over the bank, dropped to her knees, and plunged her injured hand into the water. The relief was immediate, and she slumped onto her hip, her damp skirt bunched up around her legs. Exhausted, she rolled over and scooped some water into her mouth. When her hand was numb, she pulled it out of the stream.

  She walked along the muddy flat, hoping to find a useful plant—medicinal or edible—but if she passed one, she didn’t recognize it in the waning light.

  Well past where she’d entered the stream, she found a gently sloped bank and climbed up onto dry land.

  She was in a small glade—tall grasses waved in the breeze and a young willow tree grew a few yards away. Too tired to even make it that far, Kara simply lay down where she was, her wounded hand cradled against her chest. She could feel the heat from her infected finger through the heavy cotton of her blouse.

  She should get up, she should find something to eat, and look for garlic or calendula to help reduce her infection. Instead, she fell into a troubled sleep, giving the threat of pursuit only a single, fleeting thought.

  SOMETHING WET AND warm dribbled onto her cheek. Kara reached her left hand up and wiped. Yuck. Whatever it was, it smelled. She rolled over, trying to get away from the sticky slime.

  She felt hot breath on her neck, and something tugged at her blouse.

  “What?” she muttered and pried her eyes open. The sun was bright—it was almost noon she guessed, and she was sluggish and feverish, and her finger ached. She looked over her shoulder at a burro.

  “Gyda, go away.”

  A white muzzle—slimy with green drool—hovered over her. Big brown eyes watched her with friendly interest, but wary of the burro’s teeth, Kara rolled away. The burro, of course, followed.

  “Go away!” she yelled.

  The animal lowered its head and nudged her chest, leaving a trail of green ooze on her blouse.

  Getting to her knees, Kara whipped her shawl off her shoulders and waved it at the burro, which nipped at it. She cringed at the sight of the burro’s teeth and snatched her shawl away. She edged farther away, but the burro followed.

  Keeping her sore hand tucked to her side, Kara got to her knees. She dragged her left hand along the ground, picking up dirt and twigs and a few pebbles.

  “Go. A. Way,” Kara said. She threw the handful of dirt at the burro and scurried backwards as fast as she could.

  The burro snorted and stepped away.

  “Hey! Zayeera didn’t hurt you.”

  Startled, Kara looked past the burro. A blocky man of middling height strode towards her, a scowl on his face. He grabbed the harness on the burro and pulled it close.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he shouted. “She’s just curious, is all. And there you go trying to blind her.”

  “Sorry,” Kara mumbled. She edged away from him. “I didn’t mean to hurt it. I just wanted it to leave me alone.” She held up her injured hand. “A burro bit me, and I thought it might have followed me.” She reached behind her with her good hand, searching for rocks. She’d throw them if the stranger came any closer.

  “Oh, you got too close to a wild one, did you?”

  The man took off his battered hat and rubbed a hand across his close-cropped hair.

  “Not surprised it bit you, but it wouldn’t follow you. They don’t much like people.” The man took a step closer and peered at her hand. “That’s a right nasty bite. Maybe you should see a Mage Healer.”

  “Um, yes.” Kara backed away from him. Why was he here? Had he been sent after her by Mage Guild? She eyed him—his shirt was bare of guild patches—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t guild.

  “Nearest one is in Villa Merchant,” the man said. “In that direction.” He nodded towards the valley.

  “I just need a few herbs,” Kara said. “Maybe you have them to spare?”

  “Me? I’m no Merchant Guildsman you can buy things off of. And I got no reason to cross the guilds like that neither.”

  “No, sorry, I didn’t mean . . .” Kara’s voice trailed off.

  She had meant that, hadn’t she? All she wanted was something to help her infection. Was that wrong? Should the guilds, even way out here, determine what she could and couldn’t do?

  “It’s just . . .” She shrugged. “It’s just that I know what I need and what to do with it. If you could spare some garlic or basil, or if you have calendula? Or if you spotted one of them in your travels, you could you show me?” She didn’t trust him, but she was desperate. She felt feverish—a sure sign that the infection was spreading.

  “I might have some garlic,” the stranger said. He rubbed his head again before shoving his hat down on his head.

  Now that his eyes were shaded Kara wasn’t sure what she was reading in them. After staring at her for a few more moments, the stranger seemed to make a decision.

  “I won’t ask how it is you know some healer tricks, but I will help you. With one condition.”

  “Yes.” Kara’s relief was tempered with suspicion. “What is it you want in return?” She didn’t have a choice. She would have to pay his price—whatever it was.

  “You show me what you’re doing.”

  Kara peered up into the shadowed face.

  “In case my burro ever gets a hurt,” the man said quickly. “Not sure a Mage Healer would even look at her.”

  Did he know what he asked? His mouth was a tight, thin line. He knew. Guild knowledge belonged to the guild—to give it to someone outside of that guild was a greater crime than running away. Betraying Mage Guild in this way could be death for both of them. But her life depended on treating her infection.

  “I’ll show you,” she said. “I know other remedies as well.”

  “All right,” was the reply.

  “Thank you,” Kara said. “I’ll need hot water.” She stopped herself from commenting on how dangerous this was. They both knew they were breaking Guild Law, so there was no reason to talk about it.

  Again Kara looked up into the shadowed face. The stranger pushed his hat back on his head, and she held his solemn gaze for a few seconds before he nodded.

  “I’ll get your water,” he said. “I’m Mika Gianetta. A traveler. Let’s get you set up closer to my wagon, and then I’ll find what you need.”

  Kara followed Mika to the far side of the willow tree. A small two-wheeled cart, its two wooden poles empty of the burro, sat there. The wood was grayed and weathered, and a dusty once-white tarp covered the basket of the cart.

  Mika strode to the cart and flipped up the tarp. After a few minutes of rooting around, he dropped some items onto the ground.

  Kara sat and leaned against the trunk of the willow, her eyes tracking Mika as he set about making a fire. She needed his help—that was all. She would trade a few simple healing tricks for his herbs—and a meal—she would dearly love some real food—but then they would part.

  Once he had a fire going, Mika took a battered metal pot down to the stream to get water. The wet pot sizzled when he set it amongst the flames.

  “Here you go, Donna.” He handed her a cloth-wrapped bundle. “There’s some garlic in there. And there might be something else useful to you as well.”

  “My name is Kara,” she said as she took the bundle. “Sit down, and I’ll show you what I’m going to do with the garlic.”

  Mika sat down on the g
round, and Kara unwrapped the bundle of what seemed to be all of the man’s cooking herbs. She plucked a half bulb of garlic from the pile of herbs. She pulled out her small knife, quickly separated a clove, and sliced through it.

  “You put this on the wound,” she said. She placed half of the garlic, flat side down, on her wound. She sucked in a breath. “It stings, but the garlic will stop the infection.”

  “So I’ll need to make sure Zayeera’s tied up tight.”

  “Yes,” Kara agreed. She could keep up the pretense that this would only be used for the burro too, if that’s what Mika Gianetta wanted.

  “Every half hour I will cut a thin slice from the garlic. I’ll put the fresh end on the wound until this half of the garlic is gone.” She adjusted the garlic on her wound so it would stay there. With her left hand she sorted through the contents of the bundle. There. She lifted out some dried basil.

  “The other half of the garlic will need to be crushed.” She looked over at Mika. “I may need your help with that. Once the water is boiled, I’ll steep a handful of basil leaves with the crushed garlic. Once that cools, I’ll use some of the water for a compress on the wound. The rest I’ll drink.”

  “That sounds easy enough,” Mika said and nodded.

  “Yes,” Kara replied bitterly. “It’s not as though it’s magic.” And then she realized what she’d said, what that small statement told her companion about herself. She looked over at Mika, who had a thoughtful look on his face.

  “But there’s many who’d like us to think so,” he said. “To their shame, I’m thinking. To my mind this simple procedure could save . . . burros a lot of pain and suffering. Save lives, even.”

  “That’s true.” In her old life, Kara had never thought of it that way—that Mage Guild hoarded these basic cures despite the suffering it caused. The most powerful ways to heal required magic, but there were also a lot of simple poultices and salves that took nothing more than knowledge. She’d always assumed that anyone could access a Mage Healer—in the last few days she’d found out how wrong she’d been.

  She tamped the garlic down on her finger. It stung as the wound oozed again. Mika busied himself with his wagon, pulling out a hook to lift the pot along with an oiled bag and a folded piece of cloth.

  “Here.”

  Kara started and opened her eyes. Mika had placed a flat, wet stone down on the ground in front of her.

  She must have dozed off. Even though Mika was a stranger and she had powerful people trying to find her, she’d been too drained to stay awake. But if he really was a simple traveler, then she had nothing of value to him except for her knowledge.

  “I’ll get the pot.” He turned and went over to the fire. Using the hook, he carefully snagged the wire handle of the pot and pulled it out of the fire. The rock hissed when he set the pot down on it.

  Mika sat down beside her. “I expect this is cleaner than anything you got.” He handed her the cloth.

  Gratefully, Kara took it and unfolded it. She let the garlic drop off her hand and dipped a corner of the cloth into the water. Gritting her teeth, she dabbed her wound. Blood and pus seeped onto the cloth. She dipped a fresh corner into the pot and then placed it on her wound, holding it in place with her left hand.

  “All right,” Kara said. “Now I’ll add the basil.” She held the basil leaves over the pot and crushed them, one handed. “You can mash up the garlic and put it in as well. Use the flat of a knife and a small rock,” she instructed when Mika hesitated.

  Almost immediately the odours of garlic and basil wafted from the pot. Kara found her little knife and sliced the garlic so that there was a fresh end to place on her wound. That done, she leaned against the tree and closed her eyes.

  Mika rustled around, but she was simply too weary to be concerned about him. She’d know in a few hours if her treatment had reduced the infection. If it had, then she’d worry about Mika—and what she wanted to do next. And if the infection wasn’t reduced . . . well, Mika would be the least of her problems.

  “You look like you could use something to eat,” Mika said.

  Kara opened her eyes. He held a chunk of white cheese and some dark bread out to her, and she almost wept at the sight.

  “Thank you.” She clumsily grabbed the food with her left hand. “I can pay.” She made herself take a small bite of cheese and chew slowly, savouring the tangy sharpness. “I have guilders.” She had hoped to use them to secure her future—passage on a ship maybe, or to buy a place in a foreign household—but she had to get to Rillidi Port alive.

  “Pah. You can’t be going around saying you got guilders,” Mika said. “That’ll get you trouble.” He eyed her. “More trouble. Only Guildsmen can use them. Which I think you’re not.”

  She ducked her head, not willing to say it out loud to someone she had just met. She bit off a piece of bread. “Is it illegal for non-Guildsmen to buy anything with guilders?” she asked. Had her mother known? If she hadn’t expected Kara to be able to use the guilders, why had she given them to her? Or had she wanted Kara to be caught trying to use them?

  “Illegal to even have them, though there’s some’ll take a risk.” Mika wiped his hands on his pants. “Not out here though, only in Rillidi. That where you’re headed?”

  “Yes,” Kara replied. She didn’t want him to know her plans, but she couldn’t think of another believable destination. Besides—she would only be there long enough to find a ship to take her away from Tregella.

  She’d finished eating and had settled against the tree when she had a thought and sat up, scanning the glade. “Did you see a pack?” She wouldn’t have to worry about guilders if she’d lost her pack—she peeked up at Mika—or if it was stolen. Her mother’s jewelry was in the pack. Surely it wasn’t illegal to trade that? Would those two items even be worth enough to buy passage on a ship?

  “Zayeera found it.” Mika stood up and walked towards the wagon. He lifted the tarp and pulled her pack out. “Sorry, there’s a bit of burro drool on it.” He dropped it at her side.

  “Then it matches me,” Kara said. She opened the pack and closed her hand on the jewelry. Still there—Mika hadn’t stolen it, at least not yet. She pulled out her clean shirt and her father’s cast off trousers—they would be much more practical than a skirt. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Away from the river and just into the trees, she found a private spot and relieved herself before donning the fresh clothing. Her body was still filthy, and her hair was tangled and matted, but eating real food and wearing clean clothes made her feel almost normal.

  “You look better already,” Mika said when she returned. He sat down across from her. “Even without this brew.” He gestured to the pot of steeping herbs.

  Cautiously she felt the side of the pot. It was cool enough to drink.

  “I feel better, thanks.” She sat down again. “Do you have a cup I could borrow? I’m badly prepared for a journey.”

  “Sure.” Mika pulled a chipped clay mug from his own pack. “I hardly ever use this, you can keep it.”

  “Thank you,” Kara said, grateful that Mika hadn’t commented on her lack of supplies—no food or even a way to carry water. She took the mug and dipped it into the pot—she would keep it, it was far too useful for her to refuse such a generous gift, but she was starting to worry about just how much she owed Mika Gianetta. Besides some healing tricks, how would Mika expect her to pay? Quickly she downed the pungent liquid.

  Kara recut the garlic and placed it on her wound. Soon it would be time to apply the compress.

  “Burro bite, you said?” Mika asked. He peered at her hand, and she lifted the garlic to show him the weeping wound.

  “Yes, and it hurt.”

  “They don’t usually bite,” Mika said.

  “I thought it was tame,” Kara explained. “It wasn’t afraid of me, and I thought I could catch it and ride it.”

  She smiled in embarrassment. Saying it now, like that, it sounded ridiculous. Mika m
ust have thought so too because he whooped with laughter.

  “Burros are the most stubborn creatures Gyda put on earth,” he said. “They don’t scare easy, and you can’t make them do anything they don’t want to.”

  “I know that now,” Kara said. “Even after one bit me, they weren’t in a hurry. They did finally lead me to a stream, but if I’d been able to clean my finger sooner it might not have become infected.”

  “Burros have their good points,” Mika said. He shook his head and leaned back on his hands, his hat tipped forward against the afternoon sun. “But doing anything in a rush isn’t one of them.”

  “I can tell you how to make another salve,” Kara said. “Let me know what ails your . . . burro the most. You’ve helped me a great deal, but I don’t want to keep you.”

  She turned to look uphill at the pine trees that dotted the slope. She didn’t know if she could trust Mika, but she didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want to be alone again. This trip, going to Rillidi Port to board a ship for another country, seemed foolish now.

  “I’d rather strike a different bargain,” Mika said. “I know you’re Mage Guild. Or at least you were.”

  Shaken, Kara met Mika’s gaze. “I can’t go back,” she said.

  “I won’t hand you over,” Mika said. “I hate the guilds, but I can help you—make a trade. But not for healing skills.” He frowned. “I’ll take you to Rillidi Port if you’ll teach me to read and write.”

  “Won’t healing be more practical?” Kara asked. “And safer?” Knowing a poultice or two wouldn’t necessarily attract Mage Guild’s wrath, but this? They would definitely kill both of them.

  “Or the knowledge I can read in books might save me,” Mika said.

  “You have books?”

  “I’m a traveler—I’ve come across all sorts of unusual items,” Mika said.

  “What you’re asking for is dangerous,” Kara said. “For me to teach and for you to learn. The guilds . . .”

  “Guilds!” Mika said. “I told you I hate them. And I’ll risk much in order to gain what they want to keep from me.”