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Bethberry had let the two boys, Cynan and Andhun, look around the Infirmary, curious about all the little pots and vials and scissors and tongs and how many other implements and the herbs, some hanging to dry, scenting the air with a sweetish dusty scent and others bubbling slowly in a small pan over a small burner on a shelf. They began to imagine magic potents and secret spells and were almost on the verge of asking her about some of them when Finian had briefly stopped in.
Bethberry had quietly asked him about his sister, whose mind was her illness. Most people in the town were fearful of her and avoided her. Some even said evil was in her and had whispered amongst themselves that she should be shunned or sent away for the safety of other children. Bethberry did her best, whenever word of this came her way, to counter the ignorant fear, but it would be a long, slow process to enlighten some of those who were most fearful of difference, especially unexplained differences. When Finian left to attend once more to customers, the healer turned to the two boys. If she kept Cynan talking perhaps Andhun would be less shy of showing her his wound,s and talking about his injuries.
"Well, gentlemen, are you ready to apprentice with me? I have a special on this week. Find me three giant puffballs, a handful of toadstools, one eye of newt, four tadpoles, and the foot tracks of a spriggan, and you shall earn your status as 'prentice wizards, probationary." Bethberry's eyes twinkled as she said this and guided Andhun towards a long sort of narrow table, covered with a thin straw mattress which was wrapped in white linens.
She waited to let the boys answer before she handed Andhun a sheet to hold around himself after he removed his shirt. She hoped Cynan would talk about his mother.
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