Her mother’s curt instructions were all the indication Misha needed to know how tense she was feeling, so she quickly did as instructed. Since the moment she’d stepped into the room, she hadn’t been able to avoid the truth. Her father was really about to die. Her mother’s behavior only drove that reality home even more.
Suppressing the urge to cry, she pulled the ingredients she needed from her bag. By dissolving the hard, brown seeds into water, she made a powerful germicide. But if the solution was too strong, it could start dissolving the flesh as well, so it needed to be handled carefully.
“How much?” Misha’s quiet question was met with another short reply.
“A handful to start.”
At any other time, her mother’s tone would have felt cold and hurtful, but Misha knew her mother’s brain was running full tilt, searching for a way to save Misha’s father. This was always how she acted when she was focusing hard on something. The others in the room listening might have felt differently.
Misha focused on her work, crushing the small hard seeds.
If you work them too hard, they start to turn sticky. Without letting them get hot from the friction, slowly and carefully...
Muttering the method for crushing lai seeds her mother had taught her under her breath, she quickly and accurately reproduced the technique, reducing the seeds to a fine powder. Running the crushed seeds through a fine sieve to remove the shells, she then started grinding the remaining white powder further. Once she was satisfied, she brought it over to the water.
“Misha, take over. I’ll work on the medicine.”
Her mother grabbed the powder from her hands, turning her attention to a large pot being carried into the room. Watching her go for a moment, Misha quickly snapped out of it and rushed over to where her mother had been standing.
Looking into the mortar, she could tell her mother had been halfway through making something here. She could have asked her mother what it was, but she didn’t want to distract her. Her mother had turned working with herbs and plants into a game for Misha before she was old enough to speak, so reading the patterns of her mother’s work was as easy to Misha as breathing. She wouldn’t make a mistake in something so simple.
That profound sense of trust between mother and daughter left the other observers in the room agape. They truly were witches of the forest. It was like they weren’t human.
“It’s ready, Misha,” her mother said, drawing Misha’s attention away from her mortar. “Please show me the wound.”
At her mother’s urging, she stepped over to the bed, the strong scent filling the air growing even thicker. Her father’s usually lively and energetic face was pale and twisted in pain. Though they said he was unconscious, he occasionally groaned in pain.
The chamberlain at their side swiftly drew back the sheets covering him. Her mother must have already inspected the injury herself, as his clothing and bandages were stripped away, revealing the wound. A sword wound, running diagonally down his back. It was quite deep, still oozing somewhat, the flesh at its edges dark with rot.
“It’s been four days since he was hurt. There were no signs of poison, but never mind closing—the wound has started to fester.” Her mother scowled, slowly explaining what was before them. “Either the blade used was rusty, or it was covered in some kind of mud or dirt... Regardless, something has contaminated the wound. They did a poor job of cleaning it too.”
Taking the information from her mother as a basis, Misha added, “He lost so much blood that his body had no chance of fighting off anything that might get in the wound.”
Her mother nodded before looking up and around the room.
“I’ll now begin cleaning the wound and removing the rotten flesh. This treatment will put the lord’s life at risk, but leaving him in this state will guarantee his death. He may start thrashing about in pain, so I will need belts to restrain him, and at least two people to hold him down.”
Her straightforward instructions set the room abuzz.
“He could die from this?”
“You heard me, right? If we do nothing, he will die for certain. So, we have to try, no matter how bad our chances.”
“Will it save him?” someone asked.
“I don’t know,” Misha’s mother responded after a brief moment of hesitation. “It’s been too long since he was wounded. Honestly speaking, it’s a miracle he’s still with us now.”
Cries of despair began to go up as she answered question after question until a husky voice filled the room.
“If we do nothing, he will die. Please do anything you can. If you save him, you will be rewarded handsomely.”
Murmurs of “the old lord” echoed as a deeply wrinkled elderly man hobbled into the room on a cane. It seemed even with his cane, he needed someone supporting him on the other side to walk, but his eyes shone bright and clear.
The previous lord...so, my grandfather?
Misha’s eyes widened slightly at her first meeting with someone of her extended family.
“I feel great shame at having to drag you out of the forest after driving you there, but if there is anything you can do, please lend us your aid. I may be too old to be useful anymore, but the kingdom very much still needs him.” The sharp sound of the old man’s cane striking the floor grew closer.
“I fled to the forest out of my own selfishness,” Misha’s mother replied after a brief silence. “I should be the one apologizing for my weakness. There is nothing for you to be ashamed of.” Seeing her mother bow down in front of the old man, Misha hurriedly moved to follow.
“So, this is your daughter? Seems you have raised her well. Once this business is all done, please tell me all about her.”
The unexpected gentleness leeched the nervous tension from Misha’s body. With how stubbornly her mother had refused to speak of the mansion, Misha had assumed it was akin to a den of vipers. But if nothing else, this old man didn’t seem to be their enemy. However, that didn’t necessarily mean she felt any closeness to him for being her grandfather.
“Do everything Leyas says. As representative of the lord of this domain, I’m giving you an order.” The old man’s declaration sent a ripple through the room, and one by one, gazes turned to Misha and her mother. Unlike Misha, cowed by the sudden influx of attention, her mother stood proud and tall.
“This will soon become a difficult place for the weak of heart. We can’t have people collapsing in here, so anyone who is not helping, please leave. If you don’t trust me, I do not mind if you stay to watch, but you cannot interfere.” Leyas then turned to Misha. “I’ll be removing the rotten flesh. You will need to help. I’ll need you to sterilize the tools. You have no cuts on your hands, right?”
Misha nodded with a gulp at her mother’s stern expression.
First, they applied a pain-relieving salve to the site of the wound. This would likely be next to useless due to necrosis, but they did so anyway, even if just for their own peace of mind. Wrapping his hands and feet in soft cloth, they bound him to the bed and had two large men hold him down. He was unconscious, but that meant there was a greater risk he would suddenly thrash about.
While her mother doled out instructions, Misha busily prepared the tools they’d need. She had the knowledge in her head already. She had seen much smaller wounds treated in a similar way. This was the first time she was personally involved, though.
She made a desperate effort to keep herself from openly shaking. Any fear shown by the apothecary would spark fear and distrust in the patient. “Acting boldly is even more important when you lack confidence.” That was the first thing her mother had taught Misha when she had made the choice to become an apothecary. Bluffing was a critical skill for members of their profession.
I can do this. We can save him. It’s okay. It’s okay, Misha repeated in her head over and over to encourage herself, all the while hoping no one noticed her trembling.
“Are you ready, Misha?”
“Yes.”
The moment her mother’s calm, composed gaze struck her, a switch was flipped in Misha’s head. Her thoughts became clear, and her hands went still.
“Okay, then. Start applying the medicine here.”
Hell was just beginning.