1
The Scottish Highlands, 1782
“And ye say ye have been changin’ the dressings every day?” Emma asked suspiciously.
Her patient was an old man with tremendous amounts of hair sprouting out of his ears and a decided aversion to taking the advice of his healers.
His small shack needed a good clean and tidy, too. Given time, she might try to clean it up herself or recruit some of the younger people from the nearest village to do it for him.
But, right now, she had no time to do anything beyond changing the dressings on the old man’s leg ulcer. There were another three patients to see before heading back to the Keep. As it was, they wouldn’t get there before dark.
Dark in these parts brought more than just an absence of night. It brought danger. Emma imagined that she could already hear wolves howling in the forest while bandits and murderers bestirred themselves for a night’s work.
“Aye, I have,” the old man shot back, seemingly offended. “Of course, I have.”
Emma glanced down at the filthy, crusted bandage, which clearly hadn’t been touched since they’d been there last week, and looked up at her mentor for advice.
Delphine had taken up residence in an old armchair by the door when she had arrived—almost every house seemed to save a seat specifically for her—and was leaning forward on her walking stick.
She sighed heavily.
“Save us yer lies, Edmund. If ye do nae change the dressings, that ulcer will go septic. How do ye fancy having youn’ Emma here sawin’ off yer leg? Eh?”
Edmund blanched. “All right, all right. Well, ye are here now.”
Delphine leaned forward, squinting at the wound. Her eyes weren’t what they used to be, and the darkness of the little shack almost certainly wasn’t helping.
“A lionweed paste,” she said firmly.
Emma nodded, rifling through her heavy leather satchel for the correct item.
The satchel was full of teas, tinctures, pastes, powders, and more. It had some items a person might find in a surgeon’s case, as Emma and Delphine were the only healers around here for miles. All day, every day, they treated injuries, sicknesses, and the side effects of old age, and delivered babies.
So very many babies. Emma wished they’d give her a rest with the babies.
At one time, she and Delphine had carried a satchel each. But now, Delphine could barely hobble up and down the steep Highland hills, so Emma had to carry it all herself.
She took out a small tin of lionweed paste. It was mixed with water and crushed campion leaves and was good for treating infections and keeping wounds clean. They were almost out of it—poor old Edmund was in luck.
Lionweed was one of those strange plants that had a different name in every clan, and its medicinal properties were often overlooked. Delphine sent Emma out to gather bushels of the stuff every other day. It grew in abundance, and some people thought it was aweed.
She smeared the paste on Edmund’s open wound. He flinched but bore the sting manfully.
The wound treated, Emma wrapped it up again, scolding him about changing the dressing, and then they were done.
It was a relief to step out of the musty shack and into the open air.
“It’s a pity,” Delphine said, breathing in deeply. “Edmund was a fine man, once. Now, he’s all alone, in pain and afraid. I daresay I’d have had nay sympathy for a person like that when I was young, but now that I’m old… well, I see my future a little too clearly.”
Emma slipped her arm through Delphine’s, helping her down the rocky outcropping that led to the main path.
“Ye arenaeold,Delphine. Besides, ye have me to care for ye.”
Delphine chuckled. “I’m nigh on seventy, lass. Me eyes are going, me ears are all but gone, and I can barely walk. I appreciate yer optimism, but it’s nae helpful.”
Emma bit her lip. It was hard to argue with that. Delphine’s hair was bone-white, her eyes a pale blue, and her skin papery and white. She’d always been a strong, stocky woman, but over the last few years, her frame had shrunk until there was almost nothing left of her. She leaned heavily on a cane, and the damp weather seized up her joints until she could hardly move.
“I think we will have to dispense with the last three patients and go straight home,” Delphine said heavily.
