It was on a hot day near the end of Sunslength in my sixteenth year that I did again touch the yew, and the nightshade, and the water hemlock. I dreamt that in the next year I would leave for Moringia to study magicks by which to compliment my apothecary. I would then return to the small nameless village in the western mountains and purchase Synwye’s apothecary, and never touch hemlock or yew or nightshade lest I bring misfortune and bitterness into my life. Before this hot day near the end of Sunslength I had memorized all of the poultices, medicines, and potions that Synwye would give to me. I had begun to tap the maples to use in the medicines she and I prepared for those who could afford the threnits.

In the two years previous I had grown much in my profession. I had seen women die, men die, and children die as there was nothing we could do for them besides pray to Borrinea. I had treated an illness that swept the village while fighting the hearth in my body from that very same unwellness in the dead of winter. I warned the children of which plants they should not eat, and which bugs to not touch. When a soldier was brought to us for care I prayed to Mentilian and Hazilan every sunrise for months with each ball of willow bark I gave him to wean the pain of amputation as he learned to walk upon his oaken leg. Many times I ran the apothecary making the medicine for coughs, pain, and nausea while Synwye spent her time seeking the rare roots and fruits of the wood.

Synwye did forage on this hot day near the end of Sunslength of my sixteenth year wherein I touched the yew, and the nightshade, and the water hemlock. It was near midday, many hours after Synwye had gone to search for rare roots that a young mother ran into the apothecary carrying a child barely old enough to speak. ‘Nayinian’ she said, for that was my name before I drank the milk of the first yew.

“Hazstorin has eaten the berries of nightshade and you must help him. I do not have the threnits you request as the harvest has yet to come, but I pray to Ghalstorin for my child’s health.”

I grabbed the boy and pressed hard to his plexus so he could vomit, but he could not. Synwye had not returned, and disregarding her advice I grabbed yew and water hemlock for I know those upset the stomach. I boiled them into a tea and forced the liquid down the young boy’s throat. Then, I gave a prayer to Yuorinis that I will not repeat here lest the young children make my same mistake. It was upon giving this prayer that Synwye returned with her rare roots, and was forced. The boy had died after he vomitted the berries of the nightshade upon my hands.

Synwye was quick to discipline me once the mother had left.

“Child,” she said “I know you touched the yew, the hemlock, and the nightshade for I can see their stains in your palms. It is true that these may help expel poisons and bile. However, I did tell you to never pray to Yuorinis for she only brings decay and bitterness. I told you to never pray to Yuorinis nor to touch yew, nightshade, or water hemlock for those prayers are prayers of fate, not prayers of growth. It is because of your prayer that the boy died. Go home, for I cannot teach you any longer. I must pack for this village will no longer seek healing from me.”

I protested and pleaded with her to stay

“Please Synwye, I must learn so I can go to Moringia to learn magicks and return to buy your apothecary from you. The village will forgive you.”

She spoke bitterly to me

“Child, you prayed to Yuorinis because you assumed many things as all men born under the double moon do. I must leave, for all know that I have prayed to Yuorinis before because of your actions. Those loyal to the marquis will seek me and burn the town unless I abscond far to the south whereupon arrival I will take a new name as I did here.”

I pleaded again, asking to go with her so that I might complete my apprenticeship. Again, she refused.

“This town will bear the winter with no apothecary. My shop will burst with termites and roaches and rats and carrion crows before the autumn’s close. You will sell what you can to the peddlers, and take less from them so they do not ask questions from you. You will give these threnits to the mother who screams to Borrinean for alms. Then, hopefully, you will never give Decay the ownership of any fate nor will you speak the name Yuorinis in prayer lest you bring misfortune upon yourself.”

Synwye left the village, and I sold what I could to the peddlers at a low price that they asked no question. I gave the threnits to the mother of Hazstorin who was still sick with grief, and spent the rest of the winter planning my journey across the Moringian border into the city Arimens so that I might find a wizard under which to study. I had spoken the name of the thirteenth saint, and because of this to leave was the only option.

I used what threnits I have to purchase a coat for winter, and spun myself a flaxen cloak for spring and autumn when it rained the hardest. I kept for myself the bags of willow bark and other useful medicines that no peddler would purchase from Synwye’s decaying shop. My father reminded me that Oak was best for fires, and my mother made certain that I could make bread and mash from the acorns so I could eat if hunger and death ever drew too close.

It was during the winter of my sixteenth year that I learned what it meant to fear Decay. Illness and misfortune took wealth from everyone in the village. It was during that winter when the stores of food throughout the village rotted. It was during that winter that the skald was absent. It was during that winter wherein the music played at the last feast of Icegrowth was a blizzard that froze the livestock, howled at our doors, and shrank our fires to candlelight. It was during that winter that I understood why Synwye had warned me to avoid yew, nightshade, and hemlock.

Greenpeek came to our battered town, but my time was limited. Much like my stay here I only received stares and questions. “Why did you poison Hazstorin? How long did you know that Synwye prayed to the thirteenth saint?” It was when the new apothecary came that I knew it was my time to leave. I spoke to him of the ailments of the village, and which roots and berries to buy from the caravans and peddlers that came to town each year. I told him to avoid yew, nightshade, and water hemlock for those who had survived the winter believed they brought bad luck. He thanked me with some of his spare threnits, and asked me why I could not apprentice to him.

“Sir, I have made mistakes in my hubris, and I must leave this village as not to remind them of Decay and the misfortune their previous apothecary has left them to suffer.”

The apothecary understood. He said he would write a letter for me if I decided to head through the border to Arimens in Moringia and that he would protect the health of my family so I may see them when I return and bring prosperity to the village. The new apothecary brought news from the East, that the conflict between Moringia and Junumianis had brought strife that sent him further West to our village.

With the new apothecary came a new acolyte, as our previous priest had perished during the blizzard. A young man of Paronian who took the name Benevolence spoke to a suspicious and starved congregation that the worst had passed, and that the thirteenth saint would no longer starve the village. He spoke to me too, before I left.

“Nayinian, I have not known you long, but I am told you seek to learn magicks in Arimens. The apothecary has told me of your previous experience and the prayers that were given to the thirteenth saint. Avoid the symbols of Yuorinis and do not pursue necromancy or you will forever be bound and gagged by brands of Mentilian upon your palms as punishment for magical crimes. I have been told you were born on the night of the double moon nearly sixteen years ago, and that your parents and the village still expect great things from you. If you avoid necromancy and the symbols of Yuorinis your fate will remain yours and the village will have healed enough during your time in Arimens for you to return and purchase the apothecary.”

I told him I had no intention of touching the symbols of Yuorinis again, for in the previous winter I had seen what Decay had wrought. My friends and family gathered and gave me words of Virtue and Prosperity and Luck and Order before my departure, and it is with their gifts I left for Arimens in the third month of my seventeenth year.