Story part 7 – The Last Remedy

Salutations. Benji.

Benjamin looked at his signature. It seemed foreign, as if the letter was a product of forgery. In writing or in speech, he preferred to introduce himself with his full name and preferably his position as well, and for a moment he wondered if he should add the missing titles. No, Samuel would surely laugh and reproach him for being too formal, and he would do so at every family get-together. He wouldn’t give him a break, but well, that’s older brothers for you. 

“Local or long distance?”

The question snapped Benjamin out of his reverie, and the sounds of the tavern immediately returned: laughter, discussion, and of course, the orchestra of corks, bottles, and mugs. The Last Remedy, an inn located on the other side of the main square going from the city gate, was small, but with enough room for every liquor enthusiast. The owner, known locally as the Innkeeper, was a man with a bushy mustache and barrel-chested stature who often got into chats with the regulars and kept them content. In the current line-up of guests one could notice life-weary lovers of herbal liqueurs, exuberant tasters of sage-infused citrus mixes, and traditionalists reaching for the only proper, in their opinion, amber beverage.

Benjamin, with his bowl of stew and a carafe of water did not match any of these groups, but rather the girl who stopped at his table, one of few with vacant chairs. She was holding an identical bowl and a nibbled slab of bread, with which she pointed at the letter questioningly.

“May I join you?”

“By all means, please.” Benjamin straightened up and sat down only after the girl took a seat. “And the letter, well, it’s a long distance one.”

“Such is my rotten luck,” she replied and immediately dug into the stew. “Salina. Friends call me Sal,”  she introduced herself between the bites. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Neither here, nor in any other inn.”

“Sal…” the botanist began, but held the word. Manners before prejudice, but it was better to be on his guard. He did not believe in his luck enough to fraternize with a mysterious braided blonde. “Miss Salina, a pleasure to meet you. Benjamin Corvus, the Imperial Botanical Association. Yes, I arrived relatively recently.”

“The Last Remedy is a safe choice, all newcomers come here,” she stated. “Slickhaven has a lot to offer in that regard, I can in good conscience recommend about five places. The Leaky Boat, oh, it’s the first tavern that was built in town, a favorite spot for sailors and busy merchants.” She looked Benjamin in the eyes. “You don’t look much for a sailor, or being busy. Hmm. The Drowsy Blackbird below the castle might appeal to you. They have a tradition of throwing rose petals at newcomers to make their stay in the city favorable. The decor isn’t bad either, imported furniture, elegantly decorated….”

“I’ll add it to the list. Forgive me for asking, but why were you interested in my correspondence?”

“I am a courier,” she answered without much enthusiasm. “There’s always room for new clients, though unfortunately in this case I won’t help, because I operate only locally. We have a lot of twisted and narrow streets here and not everyone wants to keep walking back and forth. The reverend bishop, for example, is already old but sends letters at least once a week.” She shrugged and cleaned the bowl with the remaining piece of bread. “A job like any other. And you’re a… botanist, if I caught that right?”

Benjamin recounted briefly the purpose of his visit, not for the first time and probably not for the last. Talking about himself never tired him, and the quantity of questions from Slickhaven residents was going to be a solid indicator of whether his practice was gaining publicity. Recognition for today: zero, but at least Salina seemed interested in his profession.

“So you’re a big walking encyclopedia of all things green?” she laughed. “You look at a flower and you know everything about it? Alright, Mr. Benjamin. Let’s test your skill.” Salina leaned back in her chair while her gaze stopped on considerable pots filled with soil, placed on both sides of the entrance, with long, sharp stalks sticking out of them. “There, by the door. What kind of weed is that?”

“It doesn’t work like that….”

“What kind of weed is that!” Salina repeated.

Benjamin did not have the strength to protest. He glanced briefly at the pots.

“Vetiver, or chrysopogon zizanioides, if you prefer. The roots yield a fragrant oil, while the green part of the plant is used as fodder. It’s remarkable that it grows here of all places. It’s a tropical plant… though I’ve seen your lemons, too. Big ones.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, vetiver is a grass, not a weed. For future reference.”

“Well, let’s say I believe you.” Salina took a sip of water and, rising up to leave the table, set the cup down. “Listen, if you’re looking for cases of overgrown celery or cucumbers, I heartily recommend a visit beyond the walls. The farms between the city and the forest are full of different crops. They don’t impress us anymore, but they might interest you.”

“Sounds like a great place to start my research!” Benjamin said in glee. “Can you tell me exactly where to go? Who to ask for, who to visit?”

Salina shook her head.

“Even if I told you, no one would let you in their house. But the good news is that I have a package to deliver tomorrow in that area. People know me, I’ll tell them you just want to hang around and… sketch leaves or something. Maybe then they won’t sic dogs on you.”

“Unbelievable. Is there that much distrust in science around here?”

“In science, no. In the folk looking at a weed and calling it chrysopogon-somethingone, yes.”

“Chrysopogon zizanioides,” Benjamin corrected her, to which the girl snorted with amusement. “I’ll be grateful for any help. If the farm cases prove intriguing, I promise your name will come up in a footnote to my report once I publish it.”

“I’m worth a footnote, huh? Wow. Lucky me.”

“Excuse me, was that sarcasm?”

“Why, I’d never.” Salina rolled her eyes. “Tomorrow at the main gate. I’ll be waiting five minutes after the first bells.” She straightened up, put on a wide-hooded cloak, and made a graceful imitation of a courtly bow. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Botanist. I hope your letter reaches its addressee without any trouble.”

“The pleasure was all mine.”

Benjamin said his goodbyes and less than a quarter of an hour later he left the inn himself. In spirit, he patted himself on the back for the idea to visit. The Last Remedy was well stocked and reasonably priced, and the owner didn’t seem to have diluted anything. Plus this whole Salina turned out to not be a charlatan as he had originally assumed, and she could even prove useful.

But that was tomorrow’s matter, for now he still had work to do. After all, the first thing he’d done upon entering the inn was carefully inspecting the vetiver pots and taking samples for his first Slickhaven herbarium entry.