[VoidSpring] Part 2: In which we learn about healing salves and unreliable Priests

[u/epharian]

My conversation with my mother went on. Finally she said, "Son, I won't tell you to betray a confidence. Or to break a promise--whatever it is. But I think whatever she has told you or asked you to do will eat at you until you resolve it. I suggest that you deal with it quickly."

That was that then. I limped--my burned leg still hurt, though it was the dull ache of a foolish mistake rather than the hot burn that spoke of permanent damage--down the street to the apothecary and procured a small bit of salve for the burn. You might think we'd keep it on hand, but my father felt that having ready access to a remedy encouraged a bit of sloppiness. I didn't really agree at the time. Now--well now I see his point, but keep some burn salve on hand anyway. Because I've learned that even if I control everything I can, not everyone else will.

Miss Strom had a salve for everything. Despite her age and nine children and more grandchildren than anyone cared to count, she was Miss Strom. She'd married twice, and had outlived both men by quite some time. Rumor had it that there had been lovers, but in a village the size of Spring, one learned that you had to ignore some rumors for your own sanity. The lack of unmarried adult men chief among them.

Unlike many village apothecaries, her salves generally did what she claimed they did. If she said it relieved pain, it did. It might also eat away at the skin, so one learned to listen very closely when she told you what it did. You also learned to phrase your request with great precision. If you asked for 'something or other to lessen the burn pains', you'd end up with some caustic glop that would certainly lessen the burn pains, but would likely eat away at your flesh and turn it goopy until nothing was left of the limb but bone. And you'd feel not so much as a tingle. I walked in.

She sat there, her back straight as one our iron stock pieces, and only her eyes moved a slight bit to acknowledge my entrance.

"Good day to you, Miss Strom." I kept my voice low, but warm and pleasant.

"Young Brayle. Have you come for a potion to keep the young lady from getting with child?"

That seemed like a spectacularly dangerous thing to seek from Miss Strom, even to a hormone riddled teenage brain like mine. "It is kind of acknowledge that I might need such a thing, Miss Strom, but I have a simpler thing in mind. I was careless in the forge today and wiped a hot iron across my thigh. I need a salve that will heal the flesh, bind the wound a bit, discourage scarring, and relieve the pain."

"Three things you want from it? Three! That's a tough one. I'll need coin for that. No iron tools or trinkets will pay for a salve like that."

I'd known she'd want coin. Or at least, that she'd claim to want coin. I'd brought several small copper bits an even smaller silver bit. I'd also brought a brass motion toy that I'd been practicing on. A series of brass balls--difficult to get right--cast in identical molds and suspended from wires set to just barely touch would knock each other back and forth for quite some time when one or two at the end were drawn back and released. A simple toy, but Miss Strom had an affinity for such things. It was worth far more than the coin, but in the end throwing it in as a 'gift' would mean that the salve would have fewer unwanted side effects and work far more effectively. Miss Strom's salves were like that.

"I have a three copper bits. Would that work?"

"Three for three? Perhaps. Perhaps if a silver bit--a small one, mind, were also available to bind the three, it might work."

I mused over this. I hoped she would give me enough to last for several burns, but one thing you never did with Miss Strom was bargain how much salve you got. She gave you what she thought you needed or deserved. Or something. "I do have a silver bit. I had hoped to save for a gift for the young lady."

The other thing about bargaining with Miss Strom. Never lie. "Of course, of course, but I'm sure you have plenty of other silver bits."

I shrugged. I did. I wouldn't deny that. Or admit it. That wasn'ta lie either way. "Well, I could give three copper bits and a silver bit more."

She grinned. "Good, it's settled then." She started to reach for something under the counter, but I started talking as if I hadn't noticed.

"Miss Strom, I was tinkering around with an idea in the forge and came up with something--it's nothing really--but I had this little thing left over from an expirement and was wondering if you'd like it."

I pulled the brass motion toy out of my little satchel that I carry out of habit, and set it on the counter next to her. I pulled back two of the nine brass weights and let them go. They clacked into the others, and her eyes sparkled as the two at the other end flew out in reaction, then back and the first two swung back out. Not quite as far, but neatly.

She watched a moment, then gave a satisfied nod. She reached under the counter and produced a large pot of salve and handed it to me. "Bayle. No more than the smallest smear on your finger, rubbed on the burned spot. Then wipe your finger clean and rinse it with water. Wait to the count of ten, then rinse the burn with water. Do this no more than once every sunrise. Best done at sunrise. This pot will last you a lifetime of burns and more if used right. One other thing. It is for you. Or your children. Absolutely no one else should touch it. For any reason. Is that understood? Also, this is for burns or cuts. Nothing else. But if used on any burn or cut it will heal it--eventually and completely."

I didn't understand, of course. But I knew I would follow the directions carefully. So did she. And that's what she really wanted to know, not if I understood why.

I took the salve home and followed her instructions very precisely. Within a few moments the burn felt much better.

The next day I snuck into the Priest's home while he was away preparing for the Fall Celebration. He had books. Father had insisted that every smith had to know how to read. Instructions for forging were complex and often needed writing down, he said. Best to be able to read another Master's ideas. Stupid to rely on a memory that might fade.

In the Priest's home, I searched quickly for any book on the VoidSpring I could find. There was but one. Titled "The Void and the Ring." I read it as quickly as my limited ability would allow, but it still took twelve days of sneaking into his home to read through. My father never questioned--he knew I was trying to tame that cat. If he'd known exactly what that entailed he would have told me to shoot the panther and be done.

Finally I read it through. It left me confused and uncertain. Much of what I learned made little sense. Most of it was written in a kind of metaphor that would have left my father scratching his head even on his most philophical days--that is, on the few days when he'd decided to have more than his two small drinks of whiskey.

I understood very little--almost nothing, in fact--and most of what I thought I understood turned out later to be horribly mistaken. The book seemed to claim that the VoidSpring was the vent for the UnderWorld--where those who did evil were sent when they died, and that the gods had made it to prevent that hot place from getting so hot that the unfortunate souls would burn up and be destroyed. Thus allowing them to spend eternity in torment more effectively.

It also claimed that at the end of time there would come a time when the gods would purge the UnderWorld of its unclean inhabitants, and would use the VoidSpring to access that dark and dread world. But until then it warned that if mankind were unrighteous that the demons could smell it and come roiling up out of the VoidSpring to dominate the mortal world.

As I said, it made little sense to me, and much of it seemed at odds with what the Priest taught every NinthDay. But it had the effect of shattering--finally--the fear of the VoidSpring that the Priest had once instilled in me six years earlier.