The healer’s chamber was cool and clean; bundles of dried herbs hung from the walls, woven together with cords, and on the long table rows of clay jars and glass bottles stood, each neatly labeled in ink. The man who received me was tall and thin, his silver-grey hair tied back at the nape of his neck with a leather strap.
“I am Elias,” he introduced himself as he pulled on gloves. “It won’t hurt, because I’ll numb it first. Afterwards, though, I ask that you refrain from heroic stunts for two days. If you disobey, Margot will punish me, and believe me—she’s very skilled at it.”
Margot stood behind my shoulder, arms crossed, and added only this:
“What the healer says is law. No exceptions.”
Elias did not take out a knife right away; instead, he poured hot water into a bowl and soaked a
