The Broken Crown

Chapter 25

Anaïs

“Look at this,” Talia said, touching the trunk of a tree. From its branches, beautiful flowers in a pale pink hung. They reminded her a little of the white snowdrops that blossomed in the spring around her home as a child. “The bark of this tree has healing powers like very little else in this world. It’s called tajy.”

“Tajy,” Anaïs repeated.

That was all she had been doing the past two years; listened and repeated and tried her best to remember what Talia told her. This was certainly not what she had expected as a child, nor what she had dreamed of. She had not even known of this option. She would have though that by her twentieth year, she would have been wedded and bedded and maybe pregnant with a little boy or girl. When she entered service at Lionhall, she had expected to fall for one of the grooms or servants or maybe even a guard. Of course, back then she had not known what a place Lionhall castle really was.

Now she was bedded, though without child, and she did not expect a marriage to the Kahari. He was not allowed to bind himself to one woman and favour her, no matter how obvious his affections were, and soon, when Anaïs became a jakeen, she would be forbidden to marry, too.

Talia had taught her about several herbs that could help her enter the spirit world, either through chewing, swallowing or inhaling their smoke. She had taught her the spirit dances and the mantras and the proper ways to move when praying and meditating. She had taught her how to read omens, and now she would teach her the healing powers of the forest.

“Tajy means strength, vigour,” the old lady told her.

“It’s the tree you use to make bows with.” There was a question in Anaïs’ voice.

“Ah, yes, but that is exactly it. The tree has magic powers, strength. This is what we use when we hunt, and this is what we use when we heal.” When she spoke about the art of healing, Talia’s eyes lit up like two little candles. “You can use it for anything. If a wound is infected: tajy. If someone is coughing: tajy. If someone has a fever: tajy. If someone was bit by a snake: tajy.”

Anaïs touched the bark reverently. It was a beautiful, tall tree, as tall as even the tallest. “How do you use it?”

“You can use the bark; crush it and boil it in water to cook tea. You can also use the roots, either boiled with water or by chewing it. The same goes for the leaves and the flowers.” Talia clapped the bark once more before stepping backwards. “Be careful with the dosage. Too much, and it may cause dizziness or vomiting, and never use it on pregnant women.”

Anaïs wished she had a paper she could write it all down on. Her memory had become better but the Yaguars, who relied completely on their own memory, had developed quite a gift in memorizing even the smallest details.

Talia led Anaïs further into the wilderness, humming to herself as her eyes inspected the grounds for whatever it was she was looking for. Then she stopped and pointed one long, wrinkly finger to the ground. “The passionflower,” she said.

The flower was almost ridiculous. It had large petals of white, but on top of them, strings stood out in a circle, strings that changed in colour from dark purple, to white, to a strange purple-red colour, to black and to green.

“I have often used this flower. It is, in ways, even more powerful than the tajy,” she said and knelt down beside it.

“How so?” To Anaïs it seemed that the tree they’d stopped by before had been able to cure almost anything.

“You see it cannot heal very much. It can stop spasms and it can calm pain, but it cannot cure illnesses the way the tajy can. It has not the power to cure.” The old woman turned her face up to look at Anaïs, a smile revealing her brown, old teeth. “But is has the power to give happiness, and that is a great power to have.