Page 36 of Yasmin and the Yeti
She gasped at the sensation, her back arching slightly off the furs. Rhaal’s hand tightened on her shoulder, his expression a mixture of hope and terror.
“Good,” the healer murmured, watching her reaction with clinical interest. “The sothiti takes hold.”
The effect was almost immediate. The fog in her mind began to clear, the weakness in her limbs receding. She took a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand fully for the first time since she’d collapsed. The relief was so profound that tears sprang to her eyes.
“What is that?” she asked, her voice already stronger.
The healer set the empty cup aside. “Sothiti. Life-water. It counters the illness.”
“What illness?”
The healer’s eyes flickered briefly to Rhaal before returning to her. “Winter Womb. Sickness that affects pregnant females. Bodies reject the cub.”
Rejecting the baby. The words sent a chill through her. “Because I’m human?”
To her surprise, the Healer shook her head. “No. Hothians too.”
“But the sothiti helps?” she asked, seeking reassurance.
The female’s face remained carefully neutral. “For now. Temporary only. Need regular doses until birth.”
Relief flooded through her, followed quickly by concern. The healer’s face was too blank and Rhaal still looked worried. “Is there a problem?”
Again, that significant look between the Healer and Rhaal.
“Sothiti scarce,” the healer said finally. “Supply low. Very low.”
Rhaal put a reassuring hand around hers. “Will find more,” he promised.
The healer moved to a shelf and retrieved a small clay pot. She removed the lid, revealing more of the shimmering blue liquid.
“Last of personal store,” she said, handing it to Rhaal. “Enough for seven days. Maybe eight.”
She struggled to sit up, Rhaal’s hand instantly supporting her back. “I don’t understand. Why is it scarce? Can’t you make more?”
The healer sighed, suddenly looking every year of her considerable age. She settled onto a low stool, her joints creaking audibly.
“Sothiti comes from cave fish,” she explained. “Always plenty.”
“Until recently,” Rhaal added, his voice grim.
The healer nodded. “Months now, fewer fish. Many dead. Bad sign.”
She looked at them in horror. “So the source of this medicine that I need to survive is disappearing?”
“Yes,” the healer confirmed. “Clan needs sothiti too. Not just for pregnancy. For many illnesses. And the Empire demands a quota.”
“The Empire?” she asked, the word sending a chill through her that had nothing to do with her condition.
Rhaal’s expression darkened. “Empire protects planet. Keeps offworlders away. In return, we provide sothiti.”
“And if you don’t meet the quota?”
“Protection ends,” the healer said simply. “Planet open to outsiders. Miners. Slavers. Anyone.”
She shuddered at the thought of those who had captured her showing up on Hothrest.
“Hunters trace river to source,” the healer continued. “Deep in mountains. Find nothing. No reason for fish to die.”
