Edmon sat slumped in a chair, his breathing shallow, his eyes struggling to open. 

“Why did you call for a bloodletter?” Kidu asked Arthero. “What’s wrong with him?”

Arthero put his hand on Edmon’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine once they let blood from him. He was born with an affliction. Our bodies create blood to feed our limbs and heart, but it knows when it’s created enough. Edmon’s body doesn’t know when to stop, so it creates too much blood. It causes a pressure in his mind and he’s unable to be himself, but that’s when the pain in his legs go away. When the blood is let from him, his mind regains its sharpness but then his legs gets worse. He’s always in pain, one way or another.”

A servant brought a goblet of water. The queen mother handed the glass to Edmon, who drank deeply and caught his breath. 

“It’s been over…two months…since my last letting,” Edmon said. “A month per letting is what I try to muster. I’ll be fine after the letting.” He had forgotten how bad the headaches were if he tried to push too long without a letting.  He felt foolish, collapsing in front of the boy king and his mother.  He was sent as a symbol, to unite the states of Aredun, but he himself could not stand on his own.  How would he make the senate stand behind him?

The healer arrived in a white cap and coat carrying a metal box of tools and a silver pitcher. “Move him next to the window,” she instructed. 

Arthero lifted Edmon while Kidu moved the chair to the nearest window. Arthero set him back down. The healer looked at Edmon’s arm and touched several parts of his arm, unsure of where to make an incision. 

“Here,” Edmon touched the inside of his elbow.

The healer laid an ornate silver pitcher on the floor beside the steward.  She carefully laid coarse yellow towels beside the pitcher.  Edmon looked out of the window of the Audience Room, and he could see a sunlit garden below.  He ran his fingers against the carved ridges of the armrest of his seat as he watched some finches play in a birdbath.  The birds doused their heads into the shallow stone dish and shook the beads of water off their heads.  They took turns wetting themselves and shaking it off, like children playing in puddles after the rain. 

Edmon’s mind wandered while the healer prepared his arm. He thought of Prince Andrew as a child, jumping into the puddles of the garden.  He watched the young prince play, wishing he could hold the boy’s hands and jump in with him, but he was bound to his chair.  He remembered the grief that had fallen to the kingdom then, when the elder crown prince Gordyn, who would have been the Fifth of his name, died when he fell ill and fell off his horse.

The world then looked to the younger brother Andrew as heir. Edmon had been friends with the older brother prince Gordyn, who had taught him the politics of the court.  Together they were pupils of the Herald Menquist, and no one treated him more like a brother.  When he heard the news of his death, he would not believe it.  Gordyn was a strapping young man, one of the best riders and jousters in court.

Later that day while he sat in his chair, watching the boy prince Andrew play, he reflected on the loss of joy.  Still, as he was charged to care for Andrew, he tried to find joy wherever the boy prince found it, before the prince grew up to learn that if the world was told it owed you joy, you no longer had to go find it.  

Edmon felt a gentle touch on his arm and the memories of the past vanished. He preferred remembering Andrew as that happy child.  Edmon's pale blue doublet was unbuttoned and his left sleeve was rolled up above his elbow.  Weariness set in quickly.  "Please begin,” he told the healer. 

The healer set the metal box next to a candle on the table without much noise.  She silently opened the box and retrieved the glass cup nestled in green velvet.  She heated the glass and turned it over and pressed the mouth of the cup against the steward's forearm.  Gradually his arm became red and the healer removed the glass cup, placing it back into its case.  She retrieved a brass lancet from the same box and began cutting against Edmon's veins. 

He moved his fingers into the silver pitcher so when the blood started running, it moved directly into the pitcher.  The warm blood trickled down his forearm dark and thick as it tickled his palm and fingers.  The drops started as flat sounding thuds in the hallow pitcher but grew to a quickened drip until it almost became a stream. Edmond always found comfort in the sound it made in that pitcher.  He closed his eyes and took a deep sigh. 

The bloodletter pressed a bandage against the wound and folded his arm in.  "This is all I dare, my lord," she said, wiping the lancet in an old oilcloth. 

“Here, eat this,” Queen Mother Helena said. She had a peeled orange on a plate. 

Edmon sat and ate an orange.  "Apolgies for the incident occuring before you, your graces.  I will be ready for the senators when they arrive."

"How long have you had this ailment, Lord Edmon?" Helena asked.

"My entire life, your grace."

"Mother, didn't I used to have this sickness also?" Padrig asked.

Edmon glanced at the king.  "I've never encountered anyone else who had this ailment. You say you used to have it, your grace. How were you cured of it?"

"Four years ago, Padrig's father had passed," Helena said.  "Padrig the Black, they called him, for his thick charcoal mane and beard.  My son was only six when he took my husband’s seat.  Padrig the Gold was what the people called him, the first of his line that had bright blonde hair.  Many witnessed his coronation, and I think you were there, Edmon."

"Aye," Edmon said.  "There must have been a thousand people in your hall or waiting outside.  The Black must have been well loved."

"My husband was reviled," she said.  "A womanizing drunkard.  The thousand people did not come to see him off to the next world.  They came to see my son begin his rule over this one.  Many came and wished him well, spoke to him, kissed his hand.  About a month or two after he took his father's seat, my little Padrig started complaining about these headaches, and he had trouble breathing.  The doctors found that no medicine worked well, but rather bloodletting relieved him of his headaches. 

For nearly a year we managed his headaches through the letting.  Our doctors were limited in what they could do.  So, I sent a call out to all healers, alchemists, and mystics to propose a cure.  No one could help Padrig.  One day, a white haired old woman, hooded in black, arrived to my halls.  My counsel warned that she was a witch, and she even looked the part, who had traveled to my kingdom to steal the rest of my son's blood.  I brushed it off as nonsense, and would entertain any cure. 

She tended to Padrig and said that she had seen the ailment before.  She told of a white juniper bush with red berries from which the leaves had to be gathered and lit by fire, then crushed into a paste. The purest juice from the paste was the boy thing that could help him, she said. I sent her to gather the leaves, and when she returned, she lit the leaves and isolated the juice. My Padrig drank the medicine.  Padrig never had the sickness again."

"This white juniper bush," Edmon said.  "Where can I find it?"

"There is a forest not far away from the Gildemanse, called the Irmangard," she said.  "The lady in black gathered it from that forest. She said that the bushes grew near the brooks.  She said that if we ever needed to return to harvest more leaves, look for white juniper bushes with the red berries.  There was a pond in the heart of the forest where the bushes were in abundance.  Padrig's headaches went away, so we never went into the Irmangard."

"I thank you, your grace," Edmon said. "I need only lie down for a few moments to recover."

Helena clapped her hands twice. “Take Lord Edmon to the guest chamber,” she said to her servants. 

“I thank you again,” Edmon said. “And I beg to take your leave.”

“Rest, Edmon,” Helena said. “Padraig and I will be here to discuss plans for the Senate and the Governors when you are ready. We will have settings for you for supper.”

Arthero lifted Edmon and they followed the servants to the guest chamber. Kidu followed close behind. The guest chamber was a small room with a stained glass yellow window, a bed, a table and a single chair. The servants lit the candles on the table. 

"My lord, I can retrieve the leaves for you," Arthero said as Edmon lay on the bed. 

Edmon chuckled.  "Oh, honorable Arthero. You're a Seordmeister.  Do you even know what a juniper bush looks like?"

"I do," Kidu said.  "Juniper bushes are abundant in the north, though I've never seen a white one.  We use the black berries for long travels, as it suppresses hunger.  If there are juniper bushes in that forest, I can find it."

"I just need to rest," Edmon said, closing his eyes. 

"I'll be here with him," Kidu told Arthero. “Clean up and get some rest, we’ve travelled a long way. We’ll chat tonight at supper.”

The Seordmeister nodded and left the room. 

Edmon held out his hand to examine the trembling.  He sighed and lowered his hand. “So many books have been written about our lands and histories, yet so little do we know about these invaders from beyond our borders. And so many healers have written at length about how the human body works, but so little do we truly know about what happens inside this skin. How well did you know Master Mazi?"

Kidu looked at his own hands. “What did we not know about Mazi? We learned about him in school.  I don't think I actually spoke to him more than a couple of times, and that was when I was a boy.  The acolytes all wanted to be like him.  He was a legend among our people.  Traveling the world, helping the weak, spreading the word of the Five Gods."

"I understand you never passed your exams to become a Peer," Edmon said. 

“I’ve passed four of them. Just one remaining.”

“The Book of Five is a complicated book, and the exams are just as confusing to me,” Edmon said. “Let me know if I’ve got this right. The five faces of the gods also come with five chapters in the Book.  The Fire Chapter describes the strategy behind the martial arts.  The Air Chapter is where you learn to cultivate art. The Earth Chapter teaches you about the importance of understanding the shape of the kingdoms and its peoples and cultures.  The Leaf Chapter speaks to connection between the body and spirit and how to heal both. The Water Chapter—that's where you take the nourishment of being awakened and apply it to your lives and continually grow.  The Water exam is what you have left, yes?”

“I've failed it twice.” Kidu tried opening the stained glass window but found no way to open it. “I’m no Mazi. I’m not qualified to travel the world and represent the teachings of the Five. But what else is new?”

"Sounds like I knew Mazi better than you did," Edmon said.  "True, he traveled to the corners of the kingdoms and helped those in need, but he never preached your gods as you say."

“But that’s the mission the Peers take when they leave the Scales,” Kidu said. “To serve and teach.”

Edmon sat up.  "What made Mazi special was that he could connect with people.  People who were fragmented through their different borders, politics and religions.  He connected with the deeply religious Neredunians as well as the Ash Men who believe in no god at all.  He had every right to push his beliefs, but he chose not to.  It's difficult to question a man's motive when he's not selling anything."

"And what about you?" Kidu asked. “What are you selling?”

"Well, everyone questions my motives," Edmon said, closing his eyes again. “But what do I really know? I’m only trying to sell the idea that the world needs saving.”