It was rare the Medicine Seller got a customer he felt much sympathy for. Most came looking for remedies to mild ailments - colds and fevers that would pass as sure as they came. Some had entirely invented a slew of problems for sympathy. Others still were just older men yearning for the vigors of their youth after taking a bride half their age.
The Medicine Seller was not a man prone to sympathy for many reasons, most of which being that in his long life, he'd observed that people could be rather silly at times.
But sometimes he got a customer like this. A patient - or a close friend or relative of one - seeking a remedy to something that could not be cured. He did not know Nahariel, but he'd met hundreds, maybe thousands like her who were hoping against hope in the face of an unknown outcome.
He was silent as she explained the symptoms. When she'd finished, he gave a brief nod and turned to his medicine pack.
He opened the bottom drawer, producing an silver bowl with an ornate lid upon which sat something that resembled a mix between a lion and a dog. The lid was punctured by several holes.
He set it down, and then, one by one, strange ingredients, dried roots, mushrooms, leaves, flowers, little bottles of powders were brought out in varying quantities. One by one he added them to his mortar, grinding the ingredients down to a fine powder.
The mixture was then evenly poured into the squares of paper and folded into packets.
"Fill the vessel first with clean water about halfway, then add one packet of medicine and let it boil. As it does so, she should breath the vapors - they will loosen any ill humours."
He carefully stacked each packet on top of the other and tied them securely with a red thread.
"When the mixture becomes the consistency of syrup, she should then drink it. It will soothe the soreness from coughing. Do this at meal times. For the pain..."
He selected a blue silk pouch and from the drawer of his medicine pack, a rather large satchel and a scoop. He filled the pouch with some dried greenery and drew the drawstring tight, adding it to the pile of medicines.
"...Hashish from India I have found is best for the aches from the shard. If she is having trouble with her lungs, she may opt to ingest it rather than smoke it."
no subject
The Medicine Seller was not a man prone to sympathy for many reasons, most of which being that in his long life, he'd observed that people could be rather silly at times.
But sometimes he got a customer like this. A patient - or a close friend or relative of one - seeking a remedy to something that could not be cured. He did not know Nahariel, but he'd met hundreds, maybe thousands like her who were hoping against hope in the face of an unknown outcome.
He was silent as she explained the symptoms. When she'd finished, he gave a brief nod and turned to his medicine pack.
He opened the bottom drawer, producing an silver bowl with an ornate lid upon which sat something that resembled a mix between a lion and a dog. The lid was punctured by several holes.
He set it down, and then, one by one, strange ingredients, dried roots, mushrooms, leaves, flowers, little bottles of powders were brought out in varying quantities. One by one he added them to his mortar, grinding the ingredients down to a fine powder.
The mixture was then evenly poured into the squares of paper and folded into packets.
"Fill the vessel first with clean water about halfway, then add one packet of medicine and let it boil. As it does so, she should breath the vapors - they will loosen any ill humours."
He carefully stacked each packet on top of the other and tied them securely with a red thread.
"When the mixture becomes the consistency of syrup, she should then drink it. It will soothe the soreness from coughing. Do this at meal times. For the pain..."
He selected a blue silk pouch and from the drawer of his medicine pack, a rather large satchel and a scoop. He filled the pouch with some dried greenery and drew the drawstring tight, adding it to the pile of medicines.
"...Hashish from India I have found is best for the aches from the shard. If she is having trouble with her lungs, she may opt to ingest it rather than smoke it."