24 years ago

Ling emptied a bottle of Charcot’s liquor before she dared to speak again. Was Charcot mad? He should not have brought it up. Ling had seen the effects of sharproot’s withdrawal. Her father banned the usage of sharproot in Cape Town after two kids had died to this traitorous plant.

She tapped her finger against the table, staring with hostility at Charcot.

“Don’t look at me like this,” he said. “It wasn’t my idea. I’m just a messenger.”

“Remember this, Charcot,” Ling growled. “If my father or Tan learn about it. They’ll kill you.”

Charcot nodded solemnly but not abashed.

“I understand and won’t press the matter, Ling.”

“Good,” she said with a force, but then something cracked inside her and she made the mistake of inquiring him about the kind of profit these things make.

“It really depends, but the substance they’d expect would generate a profit of fifty silver coins per kilogram and they wouldn’t accept less than ten kilograms per ten days.”

Ling had no idea about the magnitude of the blunder she just made. Her heart rate increased and she began sweating. Fifty silver coins per kilo … five gold coins per ten days? Forest gods. This … this as much as her village made in a year! This couldn’t be real.

“Stop joking, Charcot,” she snapped, angrier than ever.

“I am sorry, I didn’t subtract cost on our end, which may total to one or two silver coins. Otherwise—”

“Charcot!” Ling shouted, her body was shaking. “Stop messing with me.”

He looked at her and for the first time appeared moved. Still, it didn’t seem he understood the gravity of the situation.

“I am not messing with you, Ling. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll have to come up with better medicine.”

She’d have none of this.

“How can you talk about this kind of money as if it was nothing? In a year, we could modernize the village – bah – we could become a proper imperial town!” I could afford the house in the First Region. I could finally move to the paradise the merchants spoke of. I could leave this forsaken place for good…

“Are you saying you’re actually interested?”

“How can you be surprised? A year would make us enough coins to set us for life. If not us then someone else would step in and profit. And it isn’t like this substance can reach us all the way from the Red Cities.”

*

Hours later Ling was alone in the chief’s tent with her father. He developed a fever and looked paler than ever. This wasn’t anything common that’s sent him to the bed. She’d need Charcot to look into this and put her father back on his feet. But first – business.

“Father,” Ling said.

“Ling, my precious. Ling.”

“I found a way to save us.”

He didn’t seem to get the meaning behind her words so she repeated herself. Just a week ago, Honetah was like a boulder, unmoved and sturdy. Not even hunters messed with her father. What kind of disease brought him so low? Focus, Ling. This isn’t the time.

“Father, we came up with a plan to make this … this medicine, of sorts. It can make us around thirty silver coins per kilo…”

Honetah’s sweat-stricken face snapped toward his daughter and his eyes narrowed, assuming full lucidity. She almost made a step back, so unexpected and rapid this reaction was.

“Do you think me a fool?”

She noticed that he didn’t use ‘daughter’ or her name. It was a bad sign.

“No. Of course, not.” Does he know the real profit? I should have been honest…

“Then never come back with such a despicable idea.”

“What?”

“You really do, think I am an old backward fart, but I tell you this, I know that there is only one sort of things that generate such an absurd profit. This sort would see our village burned to the ground and friends slaughtered. Get out!” He wished to say more, but a nasty cough made him unable to do so. Ling didn’t follow his command. She just watched her father and wondered about the future. When he dies, I’ll be too old to realize my dreams.

Blood appeared on his hands. She knew nothing about diseases but coughing blood was one of the worst heralds. Her husband returned to the tent and handed her father a cup of water. Munateh was saying something to her but his words couldn’t reach Ling in her state. It felt as if only her body remained there, in the tent, while her spirit went to the places where she lived lives of kings and queens. I could turn things around in just a year. We’d bring Tucan to their knees.

“Ling? Ling! Get the healer!”

She left the tent and stopped halfway to Ragial. Ragial was Cape Town’s healer but his skills and knowledge were a joke when compared to Charcot’s. So she turned and hasted the other way. If there’s one person who can save my father, it’s Charcot. Only him but…

Charcot was in his garden, tending plants. He heard her footsteps and rose, alarmed for once.

“What’s the matter?”

“My father coughs blood.”

Charcot immediately spun on the heel and made it to the entrance of his house when Ling said, “You cannot save him.”

Charcot shook his head. “But I can. If I am not mistaken, the virus he contracted can be wiped out, though we must keep this quiet. I don’t—”

“Charcot, you’ll not save my father. Do you understand?” Tears were flowing freely over her cheeks. It hurt more than she’d expected but there was no other way.

“What are you saying?” Charcot approached her slowly. “You don’t want … Ling, if your father won’t receive my help in the next hour, he’ll die. Ragial won’t even know what to look for.”

“He’ll never approve of our plan.”

“Sand take the plan!” Charcot shouted, shaken. She’d never seen him like this. “You’re taking this too far. You don’t need these coins. You have a loving husband, father, and sister. Ling…”

“I want my dreams, Charcot! I want to be able to see the world. To live. Not this. My father would never allow my dreams to flourish. If you save his life, the very next thing he does is to order hunters to kill you.”

With that, she turned around, hoping that her argument drove the point into Charcot’s skull. The healer didn’t move. When she returned to her father’s tent, Honetah was stripped naked, while her husband poured cold water on his body. When he saw her, he launched the barrage of questions about a healer.

After she’d visited Charcot, she went to fetch the old Ragial. He’d declare inevitable, her conscience would remain clean. And I will have my way, father. I won’t die in this damned forest. I will live my dreams.

Even if I have to pay this price…