The centaur’s horse half was a heavy draft horse with feathered fetlocks.  He was dappled gray, with a blonde mane and tail.  His human half had dusky olive skin that made his pale mane and beard stand out.  Despite his weathered appearance, he didn’t seem particularly old.  He looked more like a man who spent a lot of his time outside, exposed to the wind and sun.  Harou could respect that.

The centaur’s brown eyes watched him steadily as he approached.

“Hello, are you the apothecary?” Harou asked politely.

“I am,” the centaur’s deep voice rumbled.  “My name is Chrysander, apothecary and sage belonging to the great lineage of doctors and mentors to heroes.  How can I help you?”

“Are you familiar with treating the venom of a poison drake?” Harou asked.

Chrysander paused, looking a bit nonplussed.  He hummed and pulled a medical textbook off of a nearby shelf behind the counter.

“Do you mean this?” he asked, showing Harou a page within the book that showed a detailed illustration of a poison drake, its mouth, and the anatomy of the venom glands in its head.  The adjacent page displayed an anatomical illustration of a human circulatory system with parts colored green starting from a spot labeled ‘wound’ on the arm.

“Yes, that’s it,” Harou nodded.  Chrysander took the book back and hummed again, his brows furrowing.

“I’ve never had the opportunity to treat someone suffering from this venom.  It spreads very quickly through the blood, and most victims die pretty quickly, albeit painfully,” the centaur said.  Harou’s shoulders stooped, and if he’d been in his wolf form, his ears and tail wouldn’t followed suit.

“I see.  I’m sorry to waste your time then,” the lycan sighed, turning to leave.

“Now, wait a moment,” Chrysander protested.  “I’ve never treated someone with this, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know of a theoretical cure.”

“Theoretical?” Harou asked skeptically, turning to look at the centaur again.

“Well, since I’ve never administered it myself, I have only the word of my books and teachers that the treatment works,” Chrysander reasoned.  “It’s at least worth trying.”

“Can you make the treatment?” Harou asked.

“I can,” the centaur nodded, “but it will take some time.  I have most of the ingredients it calls for, and I have a known supplier for what I lack.  It’ll just take some time to get my order in, and the production of the treatment will take some time as well.  But that shouldn’t be too much of an issue, because it will take some time for you to acquire payment, I am sure.”

“What is the payment?” Harou asked stiffly, suddenly very wary, more wary even than when speaking to the elderly elven woman.  The centaur regarded him for a moment and nodded approvingly.

“It’s good to see you know how this place works.  You won’t be taken advantage of by others.  Give me a moment,” Chrysander said.  He shut his eyes and pressed his palms together in front of his chest.

Harou could see a very faint symbol glowing on Chrysander’s forehead, that looked vaguely like an eye.

“The wisdom and foresight shared by all sages grants me a shade of clairvoyance from which to make or advise wise choices in the near future.  This power is mine only so long as I do not abuse it, or use it to abuse others.  Limited to the near-future, I see before you a journey.  This journey will be a difficult one, but you will find your way with unexpected help.  There will be one that brings you back to your starting point.  You must bring me that one’s heart,” Chrysander intoned, sounding not entirely like himself.  He opened his eyes, and Harou could almost swear he saw the light slowly return to the centaur’s chocolate gaze.

“That’s a rather cryptic answer,” Harou sighed.  “What if I bring you the wrong heart?”

Chrysander considered for a moment, then shrugged.

“The riddle is not mine to solve.  I believe you have the ability to use what you know, about myself as well as others, and of the way of the world, that you will be able to ascertain the right answer when the time comes,” the apothecary replied solemnly.

“How much time do you need to prepare this treatment?” Harou asked.

“The length of your journey will suffice.”

“I’m trying to gauge whether it’s worth it to wait, or whether it would be better to obtain the ingredients needed for a different possible cure I was promised,” Harou countered, getting a bit frustrated.

“Only you can decide the worth of that choice,” the centaur shrugged.  “There are no easy answers here.  Many things asked of customers here are things that seem to have no apparent value to others.  Often, their true value is only known later, and in some cases, known only to the vendor.  It will always be up to you to decide whether any given price is worth paying for what you desire, and that includes time, for time is often the most precious commodity anyone can never own.”

“I see.  May I consider your offer?” Harou asked.

“Of course.  I will go ahead and order the ingredients I need.  If you are here for this treatment, others too may come seeking the same.  There may be turbulent times ahead,” Chrysander said, turning away and exiting through a tent flap leading into another tent, as far as Harou could tell.  The lycan assumed it to be his living quarters or some kind of employee lounge.

Shrugging and trying to bury his uncertainty, Harou left the shop and continued to peruse the goblin market.  He found a few other promising-looking shops, including a lycan herbalist who reminded him again of his youngest sister.  Sadly, none of the others knew how to treat the venom in his leg.  The lycan herbalist took pity on him and gave him a packet of herbs that she said would suppress the pain, but he should take them only if he really needed to, as they included some side-effects that she said he wouldn’t particularly like.

He pressed her for details, and she reluctantly admitted that in small doses, it was a moderate aphrodisiac, but the dose required for his pain would heighten that effect to painful levels, while also causing severe drowsiness.  It wasn’t a great combination.

Harou had been quite concerned about how such herbs were used, but the vendor only smiled and shook her head, assuring her that vending here at the goblin market insured she knew which customers truly needed it for themselves, and which were likely to use it to abuse others.  Besides, the effects of the herb were different if one was not a lycan, and the majority of her customers were not of their kind.

The soldier was unconvinced, but there wasn’t really anything he could do about it.  There were certainly far worse things available amidst the colorful tents and brightly lit stalls.

After a while, Harou began to feel hungry, and quite fatigued.  He hadn’t walked this much since he was injured, and it was difficult.  He hated this.  His unit had sometimes had to march for days without stopping, hunting on the march to feed themselves and foregoing sleep for as long as they had to.  Being so tired he felt compelled to sit down, and contemplated actually going home to his bed despite his plans with Brise, was an entirely new and wholly unpleasant experience.