Page 46 of The Fury She Holds
Faron handed her a vial of yellow healing elixir, but Tal waved it away. “It won’t work.” He nodded and pocketed it. Healing elixirs were powerful remedies when brewed by the right person, but they only worked when the individual taking it was of sound mind and body. Ale, among other mild toxins, as Septimus described them, interfered with the elixir for the first twenty-four hours. Tal would have to heal naturally, at least for another day.
“Is it dangerous to take too often?” he mused.
“Only to my pocket,” Tal quipped and rose to her feet, swaying a bit.
Faron, who stood with her, rested a hand under her elbow briefly. All elixirs were expensive, and her stash dwindled thanks to recent events. Septimus’s elixirs were the priciest in town, but also the most effective. She wouldn’t dare buy elsewhere for fear the old man would poison her for not staying a loyal customer. She would receive enough grief for taking Faron’s elixirs the other day.
“Is it a normal thing for you to get into trouble daily?” They began walking with Tal leading the way. She stumbled a bit, partly from the ale, and partly from the blow to her head. She noticed Faron tensing every time she staggered or swayed, a hand held up to offer stability.
“It only seems to be normal when you’re around,” she responded.
“Are you accusing me of putting you in danger?” he teased.
“Well, two days agowasyour fault, but no. I’m accusing you of being bad luck.”
“From my perspective, you’re the one getting into these situations. You’re lucky that I happen to be nearby.” Faron winked. “I’d hate to think of where you would be if I hadn’t been near during our recent encounters—beaten in some dark alley, held captive by the evil mages, or drowned at the bottom of the Taralin?” He faked a shiver. “Your odds do not look good,” he said with a wink.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” she grumbled.
“Of that I have no doubt. Forgive me for interfering in your efforts to dispatch the criminals,” he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice.
Tal nodded. “Apology accepted. I’ll get them later,” she added with a hint of malice in her voice.
“May I join you?”
She studied her companion. “I wouldn’t think my plans to be fitting for a noble. I’d hate to corrupt you.”
Faron smiled up at the sky. “Oh, it’s too late for that.”
After buttering her up with small talk, he convinced her to be seen by a natural healer. The pounding headache that impaired her ability to have a coherent conversation or even walk straight convinced her. She stumbled a few times, and he caught her until she regained her footing again. She didn’t even know which way they were walking at that point. She didn’t quite trust the man to offer the location of her tunnel hideaway yet, but she would likely get lost on her way back to the tunnels on her own. So, she found herself led by his direction to a house she hadn’t visited in months.
The structure looked much like every other building in the docks—run-down, ill-kept, and possibly abandoned. Faron helped her sit against the side of the building while he went around the back. She cocked her head when he didn’t knock on the front door, but she didn’t bother pressing. Three agonizing minutes later, he came out the front door and picked her up off the ground before she could protest. Waiting at the entrance stood a petite, elderly woman with white hair that usually sat atop her head in a bun. Tonight, it reached well down her back in waves, catching on the long sleeves of her nightgown.
She tsked after recognizing Tal and waved toward the table with an exasperated sigh. “Still starting fights, I see,” the old woman chastised.
“Hi Madge.” Tal had the mind to show at least a little remorse.
“So, rather than swallowing your pride and apologizing, you’d rather poison yourself with those potions and, gods forbid, doctor your wounds yourself with your shoddy healing methods.” She crossed her arms and scowled.
Tal held her head in her hands against the throbbing pain. She sat on the table with her legs hanging over the edge. Thankfully, only a lone candle on a shelf behind the healer disrupted the darkness. “The elixirs aren’t poison. They heal faster than your medicines and herbs. Hells, they often use the same ingredients. There’s just a bit of magic in them. Besides, you’re bleeding expensive.”
Madge scoffed and turned her back to Tal, muttering about magic and demons’ work.
The whole time, Faron watched the two bickering women, utterly confused. “My apologies, but do you two know each other?”
Madge gestured to Faron. “Best healer in the docks, and he doesn’t think we know each other? You don’t pick the smart ones, do you?” She placed a basket on the table and rummaged through the items inside.
“Well now, there’s no need to throw around insults!” He held his hand over his heart as if taking offense.
“Wake me up well past the witching hour, and I’ll be giving all the insults I please.” She stuffed a few leaves into Tal’s mouth and told her to chew. The leaves tasted awful, but Tal obliged. “AndYOU!” She wagged her finger at the bounty hunter. “I thought you were giving up the drink.”
“I never said that,” Tal said around the leaves that were now almost a paste.
Madge held out her hand and instructed Tal to spit. Tal smirked at the face Faron made when she obliged. Then, the old woman humbled her when she slapped the chewed-up leaves onto Tal’s bruised cheek. Tal glowered at Faron who quickly covered his surprised laugh with a fake cough. Madge waved her hand at Tal’s midsection. “Lift up.”
“I can already tell you at least one is broken.”
“Girl, next time you try to do my job, I’ll make you chew the skunkwoodbyaccident.”
