Page 41 of For the Strange and Surprising

He shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I have wondered, but it’s not something I can answer. I’m a doctor for people, not bugs.”

“An entomologist?” I suggest, and Imryll shrugs.

“Whatever you want to call it.”

I grin at him. “What are we doing here?”

“Ahh, well. This is where medicine and plants cross. We use everything in this garden in the clinic.”

He crooks his finger for me to follow him, and we walk to the edge of the fenced area. There’s a tiny body of water that resembles a backyard koi pond. Odd bushes surround it, their leaves reminding me of tulips. Oval berries hang between them, the shells red and bumpy like a…

“This is the crab berry bush,” Imryll informs me. “I used the leaves on your arm.”

“I remember.” The scar on my arm is a reminder of many things at this point.

“So, no concussion?” he jokes.

“Probably not,” I tease back. “What are the berries used for?”

He hums thoughtfully. “The seeds are toxic, but the rest of the berry is used as dye or paint.”

I snort. “The seeds of a healing plant are toxic?”

“Yes.” He nods adamantly. “Ingesting a single seed will cause intense muscle cramps and impaired sense. Three will kill a full-grown adult in as many days.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“The documented cases will induce nightmares.” He huffs. “That’s not what we’re here for, though. I only need to clip a few leaves.”

He delicately slices at the base of the plant with a knife that resembles a miniature machete. I suppose it would be a dagger, but the blade is too broad. I’m far from being an expert on medieval weaponry, so I don’t bother asking about it. I’ve had plenty of explanations today.

I do notice that he’s careful to avoid the seeds, and that intrigues me. Not because I want to test his knowledge, but because I also don’t want to touch them now.

I’m thankful that our trip to the medical garden is short. The humidity feels higher this late in the afternoon, although I have no idea what time it is. It could be four in the morning, and I’d be clueless. I’ve yet to see a clock of any kind, but I also haven’t asked.

I don’t know if time is even important here.

As we make our way back to the clinic, I find something else that piques my curiosity.

Isolde said she’d been the Mongrel queen for over a thousand years. But if I had to guess, I’d say she appears to be in her forties. She has a few signs of aging, though if I saw her on Earth, I’d assume she had taken great care of herself.

I break the silence. “Imryll, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

I furrow my brows. “How long have you been a doctor?”

“Two, almost three years.”

That doesn’t math right. I count down the years on my fingers despite how simple the subtraction is. There is no way he would have been finished with med school on Earth, and that blows my mind.

But then again… I’m not on Earth, and I need to remember that.

“How did you—”