Capítulo 8: Chapter 8: Retaliation (1)
The next morning a cloud of tension enveloped the village. Sascha sat in a chair behind the counter and looked after the empty store. Bored and with nothing to do, she propped her chin on her fist and watched the villagers pass.
Interestingly, everyone had something to do in the square that day.
Coral-red lips curled sardonically and Sascha rolled her eyes as the prying, expectant gazes of the villagers peered into the tent. They weren't subtle about it and Sascha stifled the urge to yell at them.
By then the whole town was aware of the news about her divorce and the reason behind it. The funny thing was that the gossip was substantially different from reality. In these Sascha was the ungrateful and treacherous bitch who had been unfaithful to her devoted husband.
Just imagine.
She almost had a paroxysm of laughter when she heard the Old Man's stories. Sascha had been unfaithful, true, but only after discovering the bastard rolling in the proverbial haystack with her lover, and at first, she was not consensual, but the monster proved to be more than insistent.
She made a sour face, remembering the monster. She had been putty in her claws to model at her whim, she had never felt so helpless and scared in her entire life as she did at that moment. He still wondered why he had let her go. She shook her head, it was useless to think about the past, what was done was done and nobody would change that.
"Are they bothering you?" he raised his head to find Sheamus staring at her from the doorway to the back room. There was real concern in her grumpy voice so Sascha turned the sour grin into a smile.
Thinking about the early events of tomorrow helped make it more real. Not the part where she vomited her stomach in the bathroom, but what happened later when the Old Man scared off the village matrons as if she were annoying flies after they had demanded that he take her. expelled from it. He had become a bad example for the younger ones.
Harpies nest. That was what they were hers and her memory of her wrinkled old faces warped by her outrage and anger would make her laugh for a while.
"They are just being curious." She shrugged her shoulders. The old man approached the counter and also looked out the window. "You know that nothing ever happens here and when it happens it becomes a circus."
"Small town, big hell." agreed the old apothecary, they laughed in silence when the blacksmith almost fell into the fountain by not looking where he was going and when two of the biggest gossips in town collided with each other, if they had looked where they were walking they would have avoided each other. the collision, but spying inside the Botica was more interesting, as they ended up in a mess of arms and legs. "What I don't understand is how the story spread so fast and so crookedly."
"I do understand." The old man gave him a questioning look, to which he responded with a sigh. "Brigette and James's aunts."
The old man's eyes lit up with new light and he nodded as if that explained everything. What he did. A Machiavellian smile spread across the old man's weathered face and Sascha cautiously looked at the blisters that the old man suddenly deposited on the counter.
"Then, I won't feel bad about this." She said too cheerfully.
Sascha narrowed her eyes, she knew that expression.
"Who is going to lose their hair from drinking this?"
Losing your hair? That is a bit of an exaggeration dear apprentice, I would rather say momentarily change color, but no more than that. "
"Aha, tell your victims, who offended you this time?"
The Old Man snorted.
"The whole damn Cornfield family has." Sascha raised her eyebrows in obvious pleasure. She didn't have to be so smart to figure out why and she almost felt sorry for James and his family. Then he remembered the frequent beatings, the years of degradation and teasing, and all his compassion evaporated.
She studied the labels closely and understood the reason for the old man's Machiavellian smile.
"You are a cunning old fox." She told her.
"Thank you, I will take it as a compliment. Now, this old fox is going back to work. "
"It helps ..." She clenched her fingers on the edge of the counter as the vision of her suddenly doubled over. Sascha's head turned nasty and a cold sweat broke out, coating her skin. The edges of her field of vision darkened for a second until a sharp, sharp scent rocked her nose and put all of her systems into orbit. The world returned to her place and Sascha blinked.
"I'm going for the healer." Sheamus removed the anti-seasickness vial from her nose and looked at her with concern.
And Sascha almost felt sorry for her recipient, because if the smell alone was enough to clear his head, that meant that the old man had exceeded his concentration of mana and the dosage of leaves during the preparation.
Again.
"No healers." she stopped him and it was not just because she was afraid that she had contracted some magical plague, thanks to years of systematic consultation Sascha had mixed feelings regarding the village healers.
"You don't usually get sick, Sascha."
True, she didn't usually get sick. Never. Never. The mana flow from her was too strong - for a human - to let her catch any normal illness. However, Sascha's immunity was not absolute, she could still be affected and more so if the origin of the disease was magical.
"When will you go get my things?" she asked, sitting up slowly. The old man raised his eyebrows at the obvious change in subject.
"Tomorrow, when everyone is in the field." Sascha nodded and didn't say another word. Sheamus cleared his throat and told him. "I'll be in the back, call me if something comes up."
"It's fine."
Sascha was alone again and sighed wearily. If she kept up like this, she would have to visit a healer. Maybe she should stop being so stubborn and listen to her teacher. If the monster had infected him with some magical plague, it was better to find out in advance and think about a suitable treatment. The best thing about working in an Apothecary was that she had easy access to elixirs, potions, and medicinal pills. She sounded despotic, but she didn't care.
The bell rang announcing a new visitor, diverting Sascha's attention. For a second a rigid expression covered her features and the next instant she controlled her facial muscles, composing a flat and emotionless expression when she realized who she was.
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