Pieter and Wheel nodded, silently. 

[hr] 

"Four drops in water the first day. Three on the second and third, and one on the last. This will clear him of the worm inside him. Do NOT let him eat fresh grass. That would enliven the goat and let the parasite get stronger. If that doesn't work, bring him back, I'll do something more.. Forceful." 

The wrinkled grandmother smiled widely and bobbed her head in thanks, grey wisps of hair escaped from the simple bun she had piled on top her head. A few coins and a wheel of cheese were handed over, and Hanabaptiste accepted them with the same grace as when she'd received a gift from Emer or her other suitors. She certainly wasn't the catch she used to be, but she'd much rather have cheese than another damn silk scarf. A twitch of a smile played on her lips as she helped the old lady out of her stool and led her to the door, sickly looking goat in tow. Mle. Seuville cursing? Her time on the road must have made her uncouth. After she had led woman (and goat) out the door, she slid the bolt and let out a sigh. Stretching, she cast her eye around the room. Small and sparse, it held everything Hanabaptiste owned. A large rucksack pushed into a corner, a low cot with a threadbare quilt. Two chairs that had come with the room next to the fireplace which had a log still smoldering. A small cabinet served as her pantry, which, along with a few apples and a half stale loaf of bread, held a small wheel of goat cheese. But [i]next[/i] to the pantry was a bottle of Etilean wine. It had been payment for getting termites out of the wine merchants house. A fair deal, even if she'd had to come up with the spellwork. Four years at the Schools, and she didn't even know how to get termites out of a house. She wasn't very good at being a hedgemage. The wine, however, knew how to do its job perfectly. Dry, a little fruity, warm in her stomach. She sipped from a chipped clay mug, staring at the fire. 
She was tired. She didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. She had a deeper grasp of the fundamentals than most, but she couldn't keep reinventing the wheel. It meant her jobs took longer. Which meant she made less money. Which meant it would take longer to buy her passage aboard a ship going to the Ramos Isles. Which meant that the Schools debt collectors would be getting closer to her.
Maybe should start selling stronger curses. Exhausted, she stripped and changed into her bedclothes, fumbled into the cot, and fell asleep. Maybe tomorrow things would turn out all right.