The next morning, Keenin stood peering up at the second story windows of Alaban’s house for any sign of movement. He knew that he should have waited longer, but after jolting awake, all he could think about was Alaban assuming he had run away.
As he dropped his gaze, Keenin noticed the water barrel Alaban kept. He went over and saw a face dirtied with dried blood that made him sigh and regret getting into such a mess. He was wiping the traces of blood away when the door to the house opened.
“You're supposed to use that for drinking,” Alaban noted.
Keenin halted in his task and lifted his eyes. Did this mean he wasn't hired?
Alaban smiled at seeing Keenin's nervous expression.
“Don’t worry about it," Alaban told him, "Come inside.”
The inside of the house was dark. Unlike the second floor, there were no windows, and if it were not for a few lit candles Keenin would not have been able to see anything when Alaban shut the door. As it was, he could distinguish the outlines of plant bundles hanging from the ceiling, a small rounded table, a stone fireplace, and a bookshelf holding substances in glass jars. Stairs to the second floor ran up along the left wall.
Alaban was trying to light a bundle of dry grass under the logs in the fireplace, but the sparks weren't catching. Presently he gave up the task and called Keenin to the table.
“Here is all I want you to do today,” Alaban said setting a stone bowl and a bundle of fern-like leaves in front of Keenin. “I want you to strip the seeds into this bowl and crush them into powder with the pestle.
It will take you a while, so don’t get impatient. I’m going to go out for some matches. Hmm…”
Alaban picked up a jar previously left on the table and turned it side to side watching how it sifted. Keenin wondered if any of the ingredients were dangerous. They must have all been worth something.
“What is this plant powder for?” Keenin asked, feeling that he should know.
“Ciliac. It's used to increase immunity to infections,” Alaban explained. “And kid… don't touch anything else.”
Alaban returned the jar to the shelf and locked the door when he left. Keenin realized that the man wasn’t so much trusting as he was in control.
Keenin sat at the table and started sliding the seeds off the underside of the fern leaves. He would tolerate a week at most. That should appease the old man.
With the seeds in the stone bowl, he faced his first problem. The seeds liked to scatter out of the way when hit with the stone pestle. He couldn’t afford to waste ingredients with violent movements, so instead he held the pestle right against the seeds to scrape them back and forth. His continued efforts were starting to achieve a powdery mix when Alaban returned with matches and a mysterious paper bag, which he set near the fireplace before occupying himself with lighting the fire.
Keenin dully continued his task and watched the flames lick up the sides of the logs and grow fierce. He paused when Alaban came to pick up the bowl.
“I thought you would be done by now. How did you manage to leave whole seeds?”
“Old man the seeds won't stay still to get crushed. Can you really do better,” Keenin said.
“It shouldn’t be that hard. How are you crushing them?” Aleban returned the bowl and Keenin demonstrated the side to side motion.
“Ah. You're supposed to crush in a circle,” Alaban explained, “I’ve been at this so long that I forgot not everyone knows.”
Keenin felt cheated. He had put in all that effort and it could hardly be recognized.
“After this, could I mix potions?” Keenin asked.
“No. Not today,” Alaban said to Keenin’s disappointment. “It takes some precision and I don’t have the time to supervise you. Today, I need you to fill half of this jar. It’s important work, so no complaints. If you can do that, then I can bring us some dinner after I try to sell some goods.”
Keenin watched him retrieve a travel case and load it with little glass potion jars. Right, Keenin thought. It wasn't like he would stay long. If a simple act of crushing plants into powder can clear their relationship… then good.
“Then am I to pick more of these plants out of the field?” Keenin asked.
“Out of the… what?” Alaban wanted to scold him for an attitude, but he really hadn't been given enough for the task.
“All the bundles on that rafter are Celiac plants,” he said pointing. “I wouldn't fill your bowl more than a third if you want an easy time."
Having given his instructions, Alaban headed for the door.
"Oh," he said leaning in on the door, "There’s some bread in the bag for breakfast.”
Then he was gone.
In the dim light of the fire, surrounded by bunches of weedy plants, Keenin crushed seeds. Every once in a while, he took another bite of the bread he had torn away from the loaf. He had already eaten half the bread and was tempted to retrieve the half still stored in the bag, but he restrained himself, remembering Alaban’s promise of more food.
When the fire started to sputter out he wondered how long Alaban would be gone. Could he be hunting deer? Surely not even that task would take an entire day. He wondered what time it was. With no windows, it was impossible to tell.
The front door finally rattled and banged open, and Alaban emerged with a big pot under one arm and his case in the other.
“The neighbor gave me leftover soup so that’s what we get,” Alaban announced.
Keenin got a glimpse of a golden sky before the door shut and smothered the room in darkness once more.
“Why the hell is it so damn cold and dark in here?” Alaban asked as he walked precariously towards the table.
The lit candles still marked some of the features of the house. Keenin didn’t know what to say.
“Speak if you’re here, kid.”
Keenin jumped a little as he realized how close the man had come. Alaban was already making room on the table for the pot.
“I’ve just been working,” Keenin said.
“Why did you let the damn fire go out?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to keep it going and you didn’t show me where the wood was.”
“Didn’t know to keep a fire going,” Alaban mumbled.
He leaned in to slide the pot on the table and something crunched.
“Damn,” Alaban said, “That was my potion box. All right! Clear whatever mess you made to the side and get up. You're getting some wood.”
Keenin watched as Alaban used a match to light the dry grass under the logs and slide in some small branches and bark that caught fire long enough for the big logs to start burning by themselves.
With that done, they sat down for some soup. It was home cooked and delicious - worth everything he had done that day. Except that day was ending. He would have to go back out in the cold and find another place to sleep. After all, this wasn’t his house. Regretfully, the food lost its flavor. Keenin put the spoon down and considered his reflection in the metal.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Keenin said.
He would just tell Lester that he got chased by a dog and had to visit here a few times since the old hero was treating him.
“I don’t think so,” Alaban said to Keenin’s mention of tomorrow.
“Then…you want me to leave? You didn't change your mind to arrest me, did you?”
“Do I look that unreliable?” Alaban said. “I mean you can sleep here and keep the fire going. I’m all about early mornings.”
“But…” Keenin protested. “My friends will misunderstand.”
“Your friends only look out for themselves and so should you,” Alaban said. “A smart kid would ask themselves how to become my apprentice. Well… I won't force you.”
Keenin swirled his spoon in the broth of his empty soup bowl.
“What's the point in being your apprentice? You clearly don't want one. Or are you looking for recommendations? I have a friend.”
Lester had always been the responsible one.
“And you say I'm joking,” Alaban said. “Any of those thieves would empty this home and leave you in the dirt.”
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