"OWWWWWW!"
The healer jumped back out of range as Byli instinctively lashed out.
"There you go master, nose back in place... Right as rain in a week or two."
Now then let’s look at the rest of your face... "Hmmm fractured zygoma, I recon... Have you a dull throbbing in your face?" Byli nodded, regretting the action immediately. "I knew it; sinus's filled with blood I wager though whether from the nose or other facial fractures I can't rightly say at the moment. Take this ointment and rub it on three times a day for the next five days... That should bring down the oedema and reduce the pain somewhat... The bones in your face will just have to heal in their own good time... About a month or so I would say. Stay in a darkened room for the next few days and you'll be as good as new before you know it!"
Byl looked over the healers shoulder. "Um... Will there be any permanent disfigurement, master healer? "
"Oh no I'm not the master, merely the apprentice... Master Broinur has gone to deal with the Uzbad’s ailment"
Byl sucked in his breath "Ailment??? I thought he just had a fainting fit?"
"He had some terrible news and had a seizure of a cardiac nature I heard... Broinur is attending him hourly I hear."
Byl's face grew dark and he scowled at his son. "What have you two been up to?"
=================
Thrandili sprinted back to the market, repeating the name of the herb over and over lest she forget. "Dammatharg...Dammathag...or was it Dammatarg...Dammatarge?...Dammathing?" Well how many such herbs could there be! The spice merchant would surely know.
Skegrym Finnvariul was just inside the shop door, in deep conversation with a stalwart Dwarf she'd not seen before. "Tell me why you're here," he was saying. Thrandili skidded to a halt, but not before knocking over a tray of crystallized violet petals in honey, laid out near the entrance to tempt passersby. The spice merchant looked up, his smile fading.
"Be careful there, lass. Oh, now look what you've done. Malda! Get a mop out here, please, and clean this up."
But Thrandili trampled through the crushed, sticky flowers, leaving honey-smeared footprints all over the floor, and grabbed the surprised merchant's arm. "The healer wants - umm - pounded Dammathings! Lots of them! My father's sick!"
Skegrym turned from annoyed to brisk in an instant. "The master healer, Broinur?" he asked. "What exactly did he ask you to fetch?"
"He said - Damma...something...Dammatarge?"
Skegrym wrinkled his brow. "Blood beard? That's just a pretty flower, it's not for healing. Think, lass! What's wrong with your father!"
Thrandili wailed with frustration. "He got a fright and - and - he fell over, holding his chest! And now he won't wake up."
"Ah ha, Dammatharg. Yes? That's it? Good, good. Calm yourself. Rogvier, look after this maiden for a moment while I go see what I have." Skegrym disappeared into the bowels of his shop, muttering, "Heart, no doubt. If Broinur wants Dammatharg, it must be serious indeed. Now how much would he want...I'd better send a pound, just to be safe..."
The clanking of his fine brass key - the one reserved for the locked chest that contained poisons and medicines reserved for healers only - rang through the shop, and all the sales assistants looked up, on high alert. The head matron bustled over, full of concern. "Who is it? Who's so sick?" Skegrym glanced around, speaking low. "Keep this to yourself, but it's the Uzbad, and I think his heart is failing."
He took the heavy cast iron mortar and pestle, to be used only for these special medicinals, from the high shelf; there was a card inside that read 'Last used 9 weeks ago, 6 ounces of poppy seeds, Drummuil, journeyman herb master'. He need have no fear about the cleanliness of this mortar, then. His employees were all thoroughly trained in hygiene. Gradually adding the pale purple Dammatharg petals to the mortar, he ground them into a powder, and then carefully poured the fine dust into a wooden box lined with glass. On top of the inner glass lid, he laid a small parchment label in red ink with the date of collection 'POISON! Dammatharg of Hamal. Only for use by trained healers!!' The box was lastly sealed with hot wax, and a double length of strong leather cord knotted around, just to ensure that nothing could escape, even if the box was dropped.
The Uzbad's daughter was still crying and lamenting her father's fate, and the fate of someone named 'Byli' when he returned. He bent over to look into her red, swollen eyes. "Here's the herb that Master Broinur requested. I'll just go with you, to see it safely into his hands. Now -"
But Thrandili suddenly stopped crying, grabbed the box from his hands, and ran off at such a speed that he knew he'd never catch her. He had to follow, though. That medicine was far too dangerous to leave in the care of a grief-stricken maid, and he wanted to speak with the healer, in case he could be of further service. There had been no mention of payment for the expensive medicine, but that was hardly on his mind right now. The Uzbad might be dying! "Quickly! Bring my goat!"
"Rogvier, accompany me?" he asked, as his goat was led hastily up from the stable nearby. "Not the ideal way to meet the Uzbad, I know..."
=======================
Byl was just sharing a mug of ale with the healer who, having given Byli a sleeping draught, was about to depart for the afternoon clinic which he would cover in place of his master.
Suddenly a furious battering and a shout went up "Come out you dirty scum you father killer!!!"
Byl approached the front door and picked up his house axe.
The furious battering started up again and Byl flung the door wide and stepped back.
"Kandrin?"
"I'm gonna kill him and you, old dwarf. I'm gonna rid the world of bloody Brokenspears ruining my family and killing my father!!!"
Kandrin charged forward and swung his axe at Byl with an ear-curdling cry.
Byl although large was nimble on his feet and as fast as a cat for one on the portly side.
He deftly stepped sideways and brought the flat of his axe up to wack Kandrin on the side of the head.
Kandrin slumped to the floor with a dazed expression on his face.
"Healer" cried Byl picking up Kandrin's axe. "Got another one for yer."
The healer bustled through and gave the downed lad a quick look-over "Ah he'll be fine. That was a neat piece of footwork lord and a gentler tap I haven't seen in many a year. You could have taken his head off and none would have thought the worst of you defending your own property."
The lad must be distraught over his father’s heart attack but why strike at you?"
Kandrin looked up groggily "Heart attack? I heard in the tavern that Byli had killed him?"
The healer sniffed his breath and wrinkled his nose.
"One too many ales at lunchtime lad? You should be at your father’s bedside not locking axes with one of the finest guardians this side of the lonely mountains. You are lucky he only tapped you"
Byl chuckled "If I used killing blows every time I fought we'd never have any recruits left to train, brother!"
The healer dragged Kandrin to his feet."Come on lad we will go and see your father and I need a word with my master before the clinic."
Byl swung Kandrin's axe in a few trial passes... "Nice weapon lad... you can have it back when you return to apologise and bring a pot of paint with you. My door needs some repair work!"
==============
Hilfar patted his belly the next day trying to douse the rumbling. He passed by the tavern and hailed Runulf. "Ah master Hilfar, same as usual?". Hilfar gave him a firm nod as he found himself a place to eat. Not a while longer Runulf brought him a roasted boar leg with potatoes and tankard full of ale. With a running mouth he started to dig in, at the counter he saw a young lad bragging about something. He was sure he had seen the boy before but could not really figure out from which hall he hailed. With a beard full of grease Hilfar startled as the door swung open. Another boy entered screaming something about the death of the Uzbad. Hilfar stopped chewing for a moment and observed the young lads bicker. One ran off screaming something about war declarations. Hilfar looked at Runulf "You might consider nailing a sign on your door: age 50+ only”.
================
Broinur hurried back to Kandral's house after collecting his herbs.
As he approached the front door he saw Kandrin with his hands over his head being whacked soundly by a small dwarven tornado.
"YOU'VE KILLED MY BOYFRIEND YOU'VE KILLED MY BOYFRIEND I HATE YOU I HATE YOU RAAAAAGGGHHHHH"
With a final whack, Kandrin lay senseless.
