The Fruits of Labor

by **Aoren** on October 31st, 2012, 3:50 pm

56th Day of Autumn 512, AV

“Grind the leaves into a fine powder. Check.” Aoren glanced over at the instructional book given to him by Mistress Blackleaf. He had been following it as closely to the letter as any reasonably sane person could but he still got the feeling that he wasn’t doing things quite right.

“Next add the seeds.” He dipped his fingers into an open rucksack containing the prescribed seeds for the current poultice he was working on. Altogether Aoren was tackling the task much like he did everything else. He worked with determination and a willingness to expand his horizons.

“Check. Okay. So far so good. Nothing has exploded or boiled over.” He huffed and turned to the plethora of philtering equipment located in the back of the apothecary shop. Looking about he scratched his head and sighed. He still didn’t know what everything was used for and he’d been shadowing the expert apothecary Sahfri Blackleaf for roughly two months at this point. He could still recall the day he first walked into her shop and requested a job having been sent by the employment office. He’d been all nerves and positively shaken in his uncertainty. Mistress Blackleaf had read the letter from the employment office, asked him a few polite questions and after a conversation about geography and medicinal herbs found Aoren to be at least willing to learn. The very next day he received a letter saying he was to start the first day of the following week.
That had been an interesting day.

He’d been late, bumped into a lost young woman, broken two decanters in the lab, and seriously thought the Eypharian woman was going to dismiss him. She hadn’t. For reasons unknown to Aoren she had been patient. He was slowly beginning to process of becoming her apprentice and today was the day he was being tested on what she had taught him thus far. Aoren went over to an apparatus that was filtering water down through a drain that had the leaves of the vesper pea plant. His test was for a sleeping draught. She had chosen the potion because it was not terribly difficult to brew, took only an hour to make, and was easily reversed if the potion was too strong. Mistress Blackleaf had brewed a Waking Wine earlier in the day as a precaution in case Aoren botched the potion and made it too strong.

“Soak vesper peas for a full bell then wait thirty chimes before adding them to the powdered bilberry leaves.” Aoren was a little nervous. He had been keeping track of the time very, very closely and it was now time to pour the distilled water into one of the beakers. He picked up the decanter that the vesper water had been draining into. The glass was warm as the apparatus was heated by candle fire. He cautiously poured the water into a pre-selected beaker. Aoren was careful to look slightly off to the side as he poured the water so as to not directly inhale the fumes from the steam. Once he was finished he took a dry cloth, wiped out the container and placed it back in its proper place. He blew out the candle heating the distillation tools and turned back to the table where the mortar and pestle waited. He consulted the book once more.

“Let the distilled water cool for ten chimes then add combined mixture of bilberry leaves and finely mashed vesper peas. Now I just need to finish grinding the leaves and I should be ready.” He heaved a sigh. He’d been both giddy with anticipation and nervous about today’s test for a whole week. He grabbed the mortar and pestle and began the tedious work of continuing to grind the leaves into a fine powder. The key was in the way the tools were used. After about ten chimes of doing nothing but continuous grinding, Aoren wrist stung a little but it was an ache he could get used to if it meant increasing his skills as an apothecary. He looked over at the slightly greenish liquid resting within the glass beaker. It was still steaming but not as steadily as when he had first poured it into the container. He nodded and retrieved the very peas that had made the water. Aoren poured the powdered leaves into a separate bowl, wiped the mortar clean and then began mashing the peas into a fine paste.

The young man was quiet while he worked. He most often was. Even when sweeping the front of the shop, arranging shelves or delivering orders to the various residents of Syliras he was quiet. Polite but silent. Some customers had begun to recognize him as an assistant to the resident apothecary and approached him with requests written on paper to be delivered to the shop owner. He did so and Mistress Blackleaf always nodded, took the order and left him to tend to the front of the shop while she began the task of concocting the many salves, potions, poultices, ointments and other things made available by her craft. On slow days she called him into the lab that he may watch and study her methods. Sometimes she stood back and instructed him. Always calm. Always highly informative.

He recalled learning about the caplium grass of Konti Isle under her instruction. He had learned of its properties, its uses and how to add it to a paste that one could ingest for sore throats. Aoren had been utterly fascinated by the lesson.

“Alright, peas have been mashed into a fine paste.” He referred to the book again and browsed through the notes laid out on its pages.

“Deposit the paste into the water along with the powdered leaves.” Aoren did just that. He picked up a dull knife mainly used as a scraper and scooped the paste out of the bowl and poured it into the greenish water in the beaker. He dumped the powdered leaves into the mix as well then turned back to the book.

“Heat mixture-darn it.” Aoren sighed. He had blown out the candle. Running a hand over his face he turned to the heating stand with the candle beneath it and brought a hand over the wick. With the barest flick of his thought s his Res appeared in his hand and he ignited the outer most layer of it. The wick caught fire immediately and Aoren quickly extinguished his magical flames. He picked up the beaker and set it in the circular stand just above the candle.

“Bring to a boil.” He grabbed another candle and ignited it the same way he had the other. Setting it beneath the beaker he continued to read the instructions in the book. “Stir every so often until paste and powder have distributed evenly throughout the water. This should take roughly thirty chimes.”

Aoren huffed and picked up a glass stirring rod. It was no wonder there weren’t a great many master apothecaries in the world. It was very time consuming work. One had to be as precise as possible with the measurements of the ingredients. Too much and the concoction could harm the one who consumed it. Too little and it did not perform the job for which it was created. Everything had to be just right.

“Now I wait and stir.” Aoren stood there staring at the mixture for a total of ten seconds before he huffed and began pacing. He ceased walking back and forth to observe the still mixture. The flames beneath the glass beaker were burning steadily but the concoction had yet to come to a boil. Aoren sighed and ran a hand over his face. He turned his back to the apparatus going to grab the nearest chair and plopped down in it.

He tapped his foot for a moment before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He was nervous and needed to clear his head. He reached inside of himself and found that calm area of his mind where he was free to simply exist. There was no chaos there. There was no pressing need to hurry here or there. There was no weight upon his shoulders as he contemplated the many tasks that were laid out before him on a given day. In that quiet place Aoren was capable of focusing on anything and nothing at the same time. The difficult part came in tuning out the rest of the world so that he could remain in that quiet place.

Aoren folded his arms over his chest and took another calming breath. Breathing was the key. At least that had been what Ileera had told him. She was an expert on meditating. She did it every day for at least an hour. Aoren only did it when he needed to find a quiet place where there was none otherwise. He resolved to meditate more often.
“Inhale.” He took a deep breath.

“Exhale.” He let that breath out. With that breath he let all of the tension that had been bothering him flow out of his body as if his lungs were built to expel negative energy from within him. Aoren repeated the pattern of inhaling and exhaling rhythmically. Finally after what seemed like only a short while he opened his eyes and smiled.

The mixture was beginning to boil. Rising from the chair he picked up the glass stirring rod and swirled the contents of the potion about. The murky liquid was beginning to even out. Rather than appearing muddy it was starting to take on a solid green color. A slight citrusy smell was beginning to waft up from the potion and he knew he was on the right track.

“Alright Aoren, don’t get cocky. Keep a close eye on it like the book says.” Aoren continued stirring and letting the mixture sit in equal measure for the next thirty minutes. With a smile he put on a leather glove and picked up the beaker setting it on the surface of the table to allow it to cool. He blew out the candles and went to the cupboards to select a bottle for the potion.

“This one will do.” He grabbed a triangular shaped glass bottle with a cork stopper. When the sleeping draught had finished cooling he picked up a funnel set in the neck of the bottle and poured the contents of the beaker inside then put the cork stopper in the bottle. Wiping his hands on his pants he gave a nod and began cleaning up the mess he’d made in the process. Aoren stood back and admired his handiwork. The bright green sleeping potion he’d created sat idly on the countertop.

“Well Aoren, you’re well on your way. Let’s just hope it doesn’t put someone into a coma.” He chuckled softly to himself then went back to work. Long and tedious work but well worth the wait. It was going to be a good day.