“My problem?” Isa blinked at the cleric in front of her. “I don’t— I mean, I have a situation, I guess.”

The halfling rolled her eyes and said, “If I had a gold coin for every time I heard that…. Well, come on.” She turned her back on Isa and started briskly toward the far end of the building. “My clinic is down here. Saw a biggen messing with my cat, that’s why I came over. Don’t mess with my cat.”

Isa hurried after Mimay, and with her longer legs she caught up quickly. “I wasn’t messing with the cat. I was petting her. Her?” The cleric nodded. Isa continued. “I like cats, and I knew that you had one, so I stopped to—”

Mimay stopped short. “Who told you I had a cat?”

“Are you always so….” Isa waved her hand in a circle trying to think of a nice word for grouchy.

“Frontier is a dangerous place. How should I act?” Before Isa could answer, Mimay continued toward the end of the building where a wooden frame stretched with canvas created a wall. She stopped at the edge of the wall. “My clinic,” she said. “And,” Mimay held out her hand, “there’s a consulting fee. One silver.”

“You make money off healing people?”

“I make no promises about the outcome. I don’t even know what’s wrong with you, what your ‘situation’ is.”

“But you’ll take my silver all the same.”

“Time is money, don’t you think? How much do you charge people for your time when you’re guarding or fighting or killing – whatever it is that you do to earn your bread.”

“I’m not a killer. I happen to be a cleric, too.” Isa opened her coin pouch, pulled out a silver coin, and handed it to Mimay. “But, I’m new at it. That’s why I’m here. In case you were wondering.”

The woman threw herself into an armchair at the far end of the space and patted the short stool beside her. “Sit. I’m Mimay. What’s your name?”

“Isa.” She sat on the stool which was cut low enough to make them see eye to eye.

“And what’s wrong with Isa?”

Isa opened her mouth, closed it, and felt tears in her eyes. She shook her head. “I— So many things, really. I saw a ghost, right? And it aged me ten years. This isn’t my plane; I don’t belong here, but this goddess plucked me here and—” Isa swallowed. “And I’m in love, but I’m scared. What if she leaves? Last one did. And I don’t really understand what I’m supposed to do.”

“Quickly now, tell me – when did you see the ghost? Was it last night? Yesterday?”

Isa shook her head. “No, it’s been two, no three days I think. Time was strange in the tomb.”

Mimay shuddered. “Ominous words, stranger.” She slashed the air with her hand and muttered something under her breath.

“Not my tomb, obviously. It’s a day’s walk south, I think. It’s in my notebook.”

Isa reached for her bag, but Mimay stopped her. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. When a body is wracked by the Horror, a skilled healer has a day and a night to cure them. After that….” Mimay spread her hands.

“There’s no— That can’t be right. That’s not right.”

“Right, wrong, they’re just words. Nature will have Her way.”

“I’ve lost a decade. I’ve lost my 30s. That’s what you’re telling me.” Isa slumped against the wooden wall. The boards were cold from the brisk wind blowing outside.

Mimay shrugged. “Hard to gauge age with biggens. You all look sad most all the time. I can say that maybe you’ve more reason than most; you’re carrying a heaped basket of troubles, all right.” She patted Isa’s hand, and her eyes seemed to soften. “It’s a sad harvest, child.”

Isa put her face in her hands. Ten years truly gone. And for what? They’d gotten some trinkets from the tomb, a few good weapons, but—

A hand landed on her shoulder, and Isa heard Marissa’s voice. “Everyone’s looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Isa sprung from the stool and whirled to face Marissa. “Why are you really here? Why am I here? What did I sacrifice ten years of my life for? I hope it’s worth it.”

Marissa backed up with her hands in the air. “You saw my notebook. You—”

“I didn’t pay attention! I had other things on my mind, like my middle-aged face.”

“When did you become a whiney brat? You look fine, a little tired, but damn you’re not the only one to lose something.”

“What compares to ten years? Please enlighten me.”

Suddenly a head of red hair stood between Isa and Marissa. “If you two are going to fight, please do it elsewhere. I have several delicate instruments, glassware, and such, and if anything gets broken, I will be a bane upon you for as long as you stay in Mefal.”

Marissa looked around as if seeing the space for the first time. “You’re a healer? Who’s your god?”

Mimay patted her sickle. “Bywick, harvest god. He wants hard work, stability, patience from his flock. And I try. Bywick knows I try, but I’m not a patient person by nature. So, if you break any of the glassware that I had to wait four months for….” She returned to her chair. “Well. I’ve said my piece, warned my warning.”

Marissa had been shaking her head through the last part of Mimay’s speech. “What do you think I am, some brawler?” Mimay shrugged. “We’re friends, me and Isa,” said Marissa. “We just— I wanted to find my friend, all right? I meant no offense. Isa? You ready? Everyone is looking for you.”

“No,” Isa replied.

“No?”

“I’m not ready. I came here to talk to the healer, and I’m not done yet. I’ve barely started! So I’m going to sit down and talk with Mimay.”

“I can help you next,” Mimay said to Marissa. “Whatever is wrong with you is manifesting in your hair, I see. We’ll get you right as rain. Good thing you came early though, I might need a few spells to tackle that.”

“My hair is pink on purpose.” Marissa told the cleric. She turned to Isa. “Mery is lining up a guide for us. It’s hard to get to the Shimmer.”

“The Shimmer?” Mimay looked from Marissa to Isa. “What do you want going all the way out there?”

Isa ignored the question. “I will be right back; is that OK? I’m not done talking about the curse.”

Mimay waved her hand. “Might be a line when you get back. Maybe I’ll be all out of spells. Suit yourself.”

“We need to talk,” Isa said as she walked past Marissa and into the main market. Business had picked up in the short time that Isa had been talking with Mimay. Several more vendors had laid out wares, and as if by magic, shoppers of all sorts had arrived to inspect the offerings.

Brushing past two large men who were dressed in layers of leather armor, Marissa said, “Yeah we do. Ysel says—”

“I don’t want to talk about Her. I want to talk about you, your life in Portland.” She nodded toward the bar at the far end of the building. “Buy me a drink. You owe me that much.”