A Quandry
The herbalist takes a stand…
The skies would open before midday. Aeryl shivered in the cool breeze blowing up from the south, the same flow of air that carried a musty hint of primeval forests from beyond the mountains. Still, she thought, there is time enough to gather the herbs I need. She began running the list in her head. As often happened of late, her thoughts turned to Irenya, an alien who heard the griffin. Heard the griffin!
The herbalist slowed at the sound of footsteps some distance behind her. It was the ever-so-slight hitch of Leachim’s left leg, legacy of a misstep many summers ago when he trained as a Gifted. He always hurried when a patient needed him. Today he was hurrying, but not to a patient. She sighed. Doubtless, his opening comment would be, ‘Meia forbid
