I always kept it hidden. It meant everything to me. It linked me to my mother and brought back the feeling of being loved. I also felt more in commune with nature when I held and used it. During these moments the world would fade away and all that would remain were the plants and their nature. My mother was always foremost in my thoughts and it was during these times I missed her the most and oddly, felt closer to her.
It also concerned me it would be perceived as a weapon, and therefore illegal. If it was found on me I thought I would be likely arrested and the blade removed from me forever. I knew I wouldn't be able to bear it and so I kept it hidden at all costs.
I stared at the little sickle I held in my hand. The light coming through the cracks in the wallboards caused it to glint and as always its simplistic beauty stunned me. I then picked up the first bundle of herbs and started to work. The sickle gleamed and grew brighter as I focused my efforts and I soon lost myself in my work.
Three
Jaipers, 900 A.C.
LATE IN THE afternoon, I finally put down the small sickle and rubbed my tired eyes. The small room smelled pleasantly of beeswax and herbs, the mint being the most predominant. Daukyns always said he slept in this room better on these days than any other and that he always woke feeling renewed in spirit and body. I often asked him why he never took any of the herbs for his own use, but he would always just smile and give them all away or sell them for coin to use on the less fortunate people of Jaipers. I had stopped trying to change his mind about this some time ago and now I simply handed them over to him and enjoyed the pleased look on this face. And so, I stood there in the small room and breathed in the fragrances and a sense of tranquillity filled me; I cherished these moments. The work with the herbs was so soothing to my soul. Cutting the herbs in such precise ways that released their most potent strength was something that came so naturally to me it was easier than breathing. The herbs spoke to me, but not with words. I really couldn’t explain how I did what I did or how the plants spoke to me—I just knew how to make use of them. In simple terms, and as best as I could explain, with the sickle I could release the strength of herbs and combine them with others to amplify their potency well beyond normal means. I had no idea how I did this, only that the sickle became a part of me and allowed me to extend my awareness into the herbs and let me create powerful medicines.
I laughed to myself. Daukyns knew something about what I did; I was sure of that. He called it the work of the Word and I have long since abandoned trying to change his mind about that. I picked up the sickle and placed it back in the pouch. Just then a glint from the table caught my eye, and I looked over to see the gold coin lay there, forgotten until now. I sucked in a breath when I saw an unmistakable soft yellow glow came from the coin. I glanced quickly over to the beams of sun streaming through the wallboards and saw they had moved to the back of the room and could not be the cause. Slowly, I reached down and poked the coin and when nothing happened; I picked it up and found it was warm to the touch. I held it between thumb and forefinger and noticed my right thumb fit the coin where I had assumed someone had been rubbing it. I gave it a quick rub, and the world shifted.
Between one blink and the next, the surrounding walls became transparent, still visible but like a faint mist. All around me lay the town with all the buildings and structures—everything—turned to mist. I felt so exposed and visible, almost as if I was standing naked in the middle of the town for all to see. A feeling of falling passed over me and I reached out and grasped the table for support as my head swam. I felt dizzy like I had been spinning myself around. I looked all around me at the wonder of it all and ignored the feeling of unease.
I couldn't help but notice the people of the town. Where the walls were watery mist, the people in town stood out like bright beacons of various colours. I could see where the people were walking around town they were leaving a faint and quickly fading coloured trail behind them to mark their passage. Then I noticed all the animals around town. The dogs, cats, birds, even the small insects that scurried about—they were all bright with colour and stood out like a bright fire in the dark night. This is what the coin allowed, I knew –it let me truly see people and life.
I looked to where Daukyns sat outside the common hall slumped in his chair. He had a colour to him too—a blue streaked with grey that pulsed with his breathing and I guessed this to mean he was asleep. Unbidden, a strong impression came to mind as I looked at Daukyns. As I watched him I suddenly knew he was ill with age. The knowledge came with a certainty I could not dispute, and I was filled with astonishment of being able to intimately know something so soundly when it should be impossible to know.
Yet as I examined Daukyns, it all was so clear to me. I could sense the worn effect his age had on his body and not just by his surrounding colour—which I now could see seemed faded or missing in places. I could sense how hard his heart worked to keep his blood pumping through his body. I could feel the pain in his joints and how hard his lungs worked to draw in air. But something else was wrong with him: his liver and kidneys were dying. With an intense shock, I knew he only had a few days left to live. I don't know how but I stumbled out of this strange vision and shifted back to normal.
I found myself feeling trapped within the suddenly confining walls of the small back room. I closed my eyes and sat heavily on Daukyns’ cot. What had I just observed? What had I just done and how? I glanced down at the coin still held in my hand and knew it was the cause. Any idiot could figure that out, I thought. But there’s more to it than that. I feel drawn to this coin. But what had it just allowed me to do? It had allowed me to see through walls and I had just seen the effect of age on a human being in a way no one had ever seen before. It had allowed me to see; I realised with increasing horror, that my good friend Daukyns was going to die, and soon.
I sat on the cot for a long time and wondered what I could possibly do with this ability and knowledge. It was not normal that anyone should know when another person was going to die. The knowledge weighed on me like several stones tied around my neck. I imagined myself trying to explain this to him and knew there was no way to prove it. I would have to think on this. Questions crowded my mind and with an effort I tore my gaze from the coin, distraught, and wondered what else I could sense with it. Before I could change my mind, I gave the coin a rub and shifted again.
As soon as I could once again look out into the whole town the claustrophobia evaporated. With relief, the dizziness did not return and this time I felt like I did when I first exited out of the town and back into the open country: free. I paused and looked at Daukyns, still asleep in his chair and unaware of all that was going wrong within him and wondered what I could do to help. I observed him for a little while and after a time came to a conclusion: the only thing I could do was to ease his pain with my herbs. For a moment I felt a strange urge to reach inside him, but I was horrified at the thought and I backed away and fled into the town.
I looked around, and I focused in on a merchant in the open market square closing a deal with a woman only a few years older than myself. I recognised both of them and knew them well enough from my times in town. She was quiet and worked down by the river repairing baskets used by the barges. She was friendly to me and once we had talked about the birds. She watched them all the time, she had said. The merchant was a man I avoided. He sold produce at the far edge of the market. His wares were worse than second-rate, but he always managed to sell to the less fortunate in town.
Watching them through the coin I could see more than I normally could. This time I knew and could sense this poor woman was starving. Before when I had seen her in the market she had looked no different from others in the town who were without money. She was thin and hungry. But seeing her through the coin, I could feel the hunger coming off her in waves; visually it flashed through the colours surrounding her in oranges and yellows.
I could sense her focus on the mealy potatoes the merchant hawked, and that she wanted to buy them without gi
ving away her need to him. The sights and smells of the food in the market were making her head faint, and she struggled to maintain her composure. But the potatoes right in front of her were increasing her hunger, and I found myself sharing the same hunger. My mouth watered at the thought of sinking my teeth into the flesh of the roots. I could imagine tearing off chunks and swallowing them whole. I could almost savour the feeling of food hitting my empty stomach.
I forced myself to shake off the connection and studied the merchant to see what he could tell me. The merchant was smirking at her—a smirk hidden behind a practised smile. I sensed at once he knew she was starving and didn't care. He only knew he could take advantage of that and the sickly yellow of his avarice pulsed all around him. It was sickening, and bile rose in the back of my throat. His potatoes were the cheapest in the market, but he could sell to her for more than these old potatoes were worth. He knew she would pay despite her protests. Her plight meant nothing more to him than a chance to earn more coin.
I felt nauseous and unclean watching him like he was infecting me with his greed. Instinctively, my hand reached up to the sickle in my pouch and I grasped it through the leather. I tore my gaze away from the merchant and felt my sickness fade. Gasping with relief, I turned my attention elsewhere and stopped when I spotted the Reeve sitting in the inn, looking my way. I almost shouted in surprise then with a laugh, I realised it only appeared he was looking directly at me. He was watching a couple in the dining room, sitting between him and me. They were laughing at something and he looked almost wistful watching them.
The Reeve, I noticed with curiosity, had a deep blue colour surrounding him and it was tight and compact and looked solid. He wasn’t the only man in town with such colours but his colour was the deepest blue. With the gift of the coin, I knew he was an anchor in a storm—and he would bring stability where it was needed. I knew he could be trusted, and that he was a good man. I smiled, thinking I didn't need the coin to know that, but it was good to have the proof right before me.
I watched as the innkeeper approached the Reeve and spoke, handing him a beer. The innkeeper's aura was a mix of colours. There was the dark green of greed there, I sensed, but stronger than that was that same blue colour I knew probably meant the innkeeper had an honest sincerity. The innkeeper was an honest man but only to a point. He warred with good intentions and the desire to do well at his business. I found it odd his desires should conflict so strongly within him and realised I knew nothing of such things. The Reeve smiled at the innkeeper and gave him a coin and waved off the change. Once the innkeeper moved away, the Reeve returned his attention to the couple and suddenly I felt like I was intruding.
I looked around town and marvelled at all the colours that surrounded people. I could have watched for hours when I suddenly became aware of a presence all around me. It was comforting, and it urged me to look elsewhere in town. I had felt this presence before, of that I was certain. It didn't frighten me. It reminded me of the peace of the woods and the smell of freshly fallen rain. Before I could think, the presence drew me to a strong pulsing green aura in a quiet eastern area of town and as soon as I saw the aura the presence faded.
I looked about where I was and recognised the shacks standing near the garrison wall in the eastern part of town. This was where the poorer people lived in ramshackle homes. They were barely tolerated by the garrison soldiers, but they were left to their own for the most part. Daukyns spent most of his time and effort here and knew the people intimately. Being rather poor myself, I did not pity them. I felt kinship more than anything, despite the fact they seldom spoke to me.
Now that I had seen the strange aura, it pulled at my curiosity and I felt as if I was being dragged across the town until I found myself standing inside a small shack. I felt strange and physically disconnected from my body. I knew with certainty I was still standing inside Daukyns' cramped room but I also knew I was standing inside this shack. Beside me lay a woman on straw simply piled up on the ground. On the other side of her, there was a small child asleep and exhausted next to her with one hand clasping hers. The woman's aura was thin and pulsated with a bright and sickly yellow-green colour. Her face was flushed with a very high fever and I knew a bad sickness racked her body.
I stared down at the woman and tried to understand what it was I was seeing. Her aura stretched from the woman and reached out to the child next to her and I realised to my horror the sickness in the woman had spread to the child. I focused on the green aura, setting the particular colour to memory, and looked around quickly, finding others in the area also showing the same colour. Whatever ailed her, it was spreading throughout the town! Shocked, I dropped the coin in the dirt and immediately found myself standing in the small room with the walls tight all around me. Whatever this sickness was it was spreading like a vile sludge across town.
A sense of falling overcame me and I had the sudden urge to vomit, sweat beading my brow, but I managed to fight it down. Nausea and the feeling of confinement in the small stuffy room combined to force me to crave the outdoors and open air. I had to get out the room.
I quickly placed the coin back in my pouch, securing it in my tunic and fighting off another urge to vomit. With my teeth clenched, I gathered up the pots of unguent, two dozen in all, all marked on the lid with symbols made from practised brush strokes. The symbols identified the contents—symbols my mother had taught me years ago. The small pots were sealed with beeswax and would stay potent for years. It was a labour of love but with the need to vomit growing stronger, I heedlessly threw my share of the pots into my backpack, left the others for Daukyns on the table, and blew out the candles. I gathered my remaining bundles as the sweat on my brow turned cold and then broke out all over my body. My stomach lurched once more, and I clamped my jaw shut with force to stop myself from spewing.
I ran my eyes over the table and snagged my precious pouch of Life salt and was pleased to see, despite the need to throw up, that half of it still remained. I threw this in my pack and looked at the remaining mess on the table. Daukyns always insisted on cleaning the worktable. He said it made him feel part of the process. His pots sat neatly stacked on the table. I knew he shared them with the people who needed the contents the most in town. In return, he got to stay and run his community Word services and they kept him stocked with food and more importantly to him, in wine.
Satisfied, I slung my backpack over my left shoulder and ran quickly out of the small room and through the adjoining common room. Once back outside in the open, I could no longer contain myself and I leaned over, violently ill next to the building. I had little in my stomach and dry heaves soon painfully overtook me. The remains of my breakfast of bread soured my mouth and I spit as clear as I could before wiping my lips clean. I sank to the ground, thankfully upwind from my vomit and lay exhausted. I felt so much better as I mopped the sweat from my brow and grabbed the sickle through my tunic.
The last time I remembered being this sick was the time Daukyns had taken me out to fish from a small boat on the river. He had to turn back soon after because I was ill then and felt much the same as I did now. Seasickness was what he called it. Whatever it was it was horrible. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the light breeze that had picked up while I had been working. The breeze drew the sweat from my skin and cooled me.
The coin was foremost in my thoughts. Somehow it was allowing me to see intimate details about the health of people. The colours surrounding them were clearly tied to them as well, and I had yet to figure that out, but it seemed intuitive. Green was clearly not good. The coin freed me to move about and observe without being seen. It allowed me to tap into the surrounding nature. I realised then the coin combined with my knowledge of herbs would be a uniquely powerful thing. With them, I could help cure people of sickness and ensure the correct herbs were administered. The thought of being able to help people so directly and so effectively was intoxicating to me. My very core yearned to reach out to people and help them.
; The coin, I knew with a certainty, was a boon surely meant for someone like me. My sense of ownership grew threefold, and I knew I had to keep it and work more with it. I couldn't share the knowledge of the coin with anyone—including Daukyns or the Reeve. Like my sickle, I could not give it up. I knew I was torn but had until that moment felt I would be turning it over to the Reeve. Now I knew I never could. A certain amount of guilt consumed me. I remained lying up against the wall with my eyes closed and forced myself to relax.
Once I composed myself and my stomach seemed settled, I hurried over to where Daukyns sat, still slouched over and snoring peacefully. Without the coin I could no longer see his aura or sense his pain but looking closely at him, I could now make out the deep lines around his eyes and for the first time I saw just how old he really was, and I could see the ghost of the pain he felt by the set of his jaw. I never really noticed how he had aged before—or maybe I did but refused to admit it. I suddenly felt such sorrow for him and I wanted to ease his pain. I reached out to wake him and warn him when a hand clamped down on my shoulder, startling me and almost causing me to cry out.
"Let him rest, son," said the Reeve softly and with some warmth. "He needs it. Come with me. We need to talk." The Reeve walked slowly away toward the inn and didn't check to see if I would follow. I took a long look at Daukyns and watched a line of drool run down the corner of his mouth. He was my only true friend in this whole town. I couldn’t lose him. I shook my head and looked around to find the Reeve already several feet away and still walking.
I caught up to him and he slowed his pace to accommodate my shorter stride. He glanced down at me once and grunted. I wasn't exactly sure what the grunt meant and decided to ignore it. My head only reached the midpoint of the Reeve's upper arm. At sixteen, I was likely as tall as I would get and I resigned myself to having to always look up at people. We walked in silence side–by–side for a few minutes and passed the inn where I had assumed we were destined. I said nothing but watched as the inn went by and decided to wait him out and felt more mature for it.
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