The Omens of a Crow [COMPLETE] (Watty 2018 Award-Winner)

Chapter 6

He found the cunning woman's hut without difficulty, standing amidst thickets and uncut grass in a shallow ravine. It was a ramshackle hovel of wood and dried mud, as poor yet practical a structure as he expected for an outcast equal parts feared and needed by neighbors.

Krow stepped down off his horse, eyeing the cuts of root hung from the eaves to dry. Scuffs in the packed earth indicated low but regular traffic, punctuated by the dragging of something heavy to the pair of wheeled ruts he'd followed from the village.

When the door swung open, creaking in protest, the pungent scents of stored herbs and incense assaulted his nostrils. Different parts cloying, musky, and dry, the odors were not unfamiliar to him, and he allowed himself a rare smile. Besides a small cot, fire pit, stool, and workbench, the previous occupant had filled the cramped hut with root and leaf specimens, which dangled from the low rafters in bundles and rested on storage shelves in bound clumps. The powerful scent of buckthorn led him to a chest beneath the cot, and he opened the lid to find the stripped bark prepared for use and well-preserved. Goaded by a brief stroke of intuition, he pushed two fingers beyond the chest's spongy grass bed to find a loose bottom, then pried it up carefully to reveal a surprise beneath. Hemlock. One of the most dangerous poisons in the world, but also an effective pain dampener when used in sparing doses. He'd used the last of his stock days ago, and to find such an abundance was a relief.

Namtar whickered. The swishing of grass outside caught his attention, and Krow closed the chest. The noise was too irregular to be the wind, which had been light today. He moved to the corner behind the open door, cautious to keep the hanging plants from rustling.

"Healer Krow?" A feminine voice, timid and nervous. A shadow appeared in the entrance. He removed his left hand from his short sword and stood, moving slowly so as not to frighten his follower.

"Lina," he said, stepping into the entryway. "What are you doing away from the bailey?"

The girl's youthful features were covered by a sheen of sweat, and she shuffled from foot to foot. But she didn't flinch at his appearance. "I was sent to Bliss with Jory in order to restock the castle larders, but I saw you with Barthon and followed when you rode west."

Krow nodded. After leaving the inn, his brief visit in Bliss had been no more pleasant. The eyes following him from groups of muttering villagers were hostile. The smith had been suspicious of his coin. The general goods merchant had been spiteful. Everyone was frightened. Frightened of the plague they did not know how to defend against, of the intentions of their neighbors, and, most especially, of him. In many a village he'd passed for an odd human, but in Bliss the word was out. An orc was in the village – living in the castle, no less – a savage claiming to be a healer. A clear lie. Orcs could be but one thing: monsters. Why had a monster come to Bliss?

Krow's lips twisted, but he turned his attention back to the Selbourne's young servant. "Why follow me? Is something wrong?"

She hesitated, then nodded after a moment. The afternoon sun played on her cheeks through a gap in the forest leaves. "Everyone is scared, healer."

"I know."

"They're scared of...of you."

"I know."

"And they're scared of the plague!" she blurted. Krow gave her an odd look.

"I know."

Lina stamped a foot, frustration taking the place of her anxiety. "Is that all you can say? I know?"

"What is it, Lina?" Krow asked. "I am aware they are frightened. What do you mean?"

"Cort's afraid for his young daughters. Bareny already lost a child, and he doesn't want to lose more. Vera's husband and two boys..."