A Near Thing by Anne Wolfe

A Near Thing

There was once a man who, deep down, did not care one way or the other about the king and his wizard.

But the temple paid strongarms handsomely, for nothing more than to stand outside the door and occasionally beat back softhearted traitors’ kin from the onyx gates. So every day the man walked to the temple to offer his services, and every day he walked home with a stack of glimmering coins; some to buy jewel-colored fruits for his elder daughter, and some to buy gilded books of priestesses' rites for his younger daughter.

The younger daughter was loud-hearted, and much beloved by her many acquaintances, and she yearned to be of an age to serve in the temple. But the elder daughter was quiet and small, and much disliked by those who followed her sister. And as the years passed they spoke less to each other; and by the time of this event the elder daughter remained always in the small house, whereas the younger daughter went ever about in the streets, only returning home to sleep.

It happened one day, then, that the man returned home early, for he had stepped awry upon the great stairs, and could not stand still upon his left leg without much pain.

And he looked for his elder daughter in her chair beside the westward window, but she was not there, and all the house smelled of burning flowers.

So he climbed the slim ladder into the loft, and saw smoke rising through the roof from a scrap of burning lavender. And facing the fire knelt his elder daughter, praying-- but she noticed him, and ceased.

"O my father," she said, and the fire glimmered in her eyes. "I have seen the image of the Lady of Healing, as I dreamt beside the westward window, and she spoke to me of many things. And at the last she told me the smoke of this flower, and my words upon the smoke, will reach across the sea to her-- that I will soon have need of much strength, and she will grant it me, if only I show myself faithful."

"It may be so," said the man. "But it is the command of the king's wizard that we seek aid from no other power than his own followers, on pain of certain death. And it is not told that any among the great powers can return the dead to life; how then shall your Lady strengthen you if you are slain? Leave then this foolishness, I beg you, and we may try to live peaceably for such time as remains to us."

"I will not be slain," she said, and stood, blowing out the lavender flame.

"You cannot be certain," he said. "Now put this away, and I will take off the window screen, and if you truly have the favor of any power this smell will be gone by the time your sister returns."

But as he finished speaking they heard the door open, and the sound of footsteps entering.

"Who is here?" cried the younger sister. "Who has filled the house with this dreadful smoke?"

The elder sister stepped toward the ladder, but her father was swifter, and made his way quickly down into the central room, wincing all the while. "I am here," he said, "and the smoke is mine. My grandmother burned flowers for the pain in her fingers, before she died, and my leg is hurt."

"Oh," said the younger daughter, and in an instant she had pulled her book from her pocket, and began to look through it. "I have heard they make a salve at the temple for such things, did they not give some to you?"

"I did not think to ask," said the man.

The elder daughter climbed down from the loft, leaving small ashen fingerprints on the ladder.

"Perhaps I can make some," said the younger daughter, already at the door to leave again. "Surely it will serve better than your flowers-- I will go and find the things to make it."

The elder daughter sat in her chair, looking out the window with a face like stone.

And the man only sat upon his stool, his leg hurting more than ever, and wondered what the next day would bring.