"When it looks like this." Donnach showed her his own mortar, where the chamomile had been reduced to a fine, fragrant powder. "See how it's still got a bit of texture? That's what ye want. Too fine and ye've destroyed the potency. Too coarse and it willnae steep properly."
Mhairi adjusted her technique, watching carefully as the chamomile began to match Donnach's example. When she was done, she looked up hopefully.
The old healer examined her work, then nodded. "Good. Very good fer yer first attempt. Now, tell me what this is used fer."
"Calmin'. Fer anxiety and sleeplessness." Mhairi had been studying the herb book Donnach had lent her late into the previous night. "It can also help with digestive troubles and inflammation."
"And the contraindications?"
"Those with allergies tae daisies or related plants should avoid it. And it can interact with blood-thinnin' remedies."
"Excellent." Donnach's weathered face creased into a smile. "Ye've been studyin'."
"I couldnae stop." Mhairi set down her mortar, flexing her fingers. "Last night I meant tae read just one chapter, but then I wanted to ken more about feverfew, and that led tae readin' about migraines, which led tae circulatory herbs, and before I kenned it, it was nearly dawn."
Donnach laughed. "Aye, that's how it happens. The healin' arts have a way of consumin' ye once ye start. Every answer leads tae ten more questions."
"I dinnae mind." Mhairi looked around the healing chambers—at the jars and bottles, the drying herbs hanging from the rafters, the careful organization that spoke of decades of knowledge. "This feels... right. Like I'm finally daein' somethin' that matters."
"It daes matter," Donnach said seriously. "Never doubt that. Every person ye help, every sufferin' ye ease, that's sacred work, lass. Nae everyone has the temperament fer it, but ye..." He studied her thoughtfully. "Ye have the gift. I can see it already."
Warmth bloomed in Mhairi's chest. "Thank ye."
"Dinnae thank me yet. We've barely scratched the surface." He moved to a cabinet and pulled out several more jars. "Now, let's move on tae comfrey. Tell me what ye ken about it."
The day passed in a blur of herbs and tinctures and careful instruction.
Donnach taught her how to prepare poultices, how to judge the potency of dried herbs versus fresh, how to mix remedies in precise proportions. When a young warrior arrived with a gashed arm from training, Donnach let Mhairi watch as he cleaned and stitched the wound.
"See how I'm anglin' the needle?" he murmured as he worked. "Always away from major blood vessels. And the stitches need tae be close enough tae hold, but nae so tight they restrict blood flow."
Mhairi leaned in, fascinated despite the blood. The warrior, a lad perhaps eighteen, was trying very hard to look brave, though his face had gone pale.
"Ye're daein' well," Mhairi told him gently. "It'll be over soon."
"Daes it... daes it hurt much?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"I've had worse recently," Mhairi said before she could think. Then, realizing what she'd revealed, she quickly added, "but Donnach is very skilled. The stitches will hold clean and ye'll barely feel them in a few days."
The warrior managed a weak smile. "If ye say so, me lady."
By the time the sun was setting, Mhairi's feet ached and her back was stiff from bending over worktables, but she felt more alive than she had in... she could not even remember how long.
"That's enough fer today," Donnach said, watching her smother a yawn. "Ye've done well, lass. Very well. Come back tomorrow at the same time."
"I will." Mhairi gathered her borrowed apron and moved toward the door. "Thank ye again, Donnach. Fer all of this."
"Thank our laird," the healer said with a knowing look. "He's the one who made it possible."
Aye. He was.
Mhairi made her way through the castle, nodding to servants who were beginning to recognize her. The corridors were busier now as people prepared for the evening meal, voices and laughter echoing off the stone walls.
She was so lost in thought—reviewing everything she'd learned, planning what to study that night—that she nearly walked straight into Alpin as he rounded a corner.
"Oh!" She stumbled back. "I'm sorry, I wasnae watchin' where I was goin’."
"Clearly." But he was smiling, and his hands came up to steady her shoulders. "How was yer first day with Donnach?"
