Lore
Rain had kept the market quiet, and Mara had more onions than customers. She set a pot on the hearth, swept the doorstep, and waited. Near dusk a traveller arrived carrying a bundle of bottles and a story about a remedy that could cure anything.
Mara listened without laughing. Then she asked what was in the bottles, who had prepared them, and how the traveller knew they were safe. The answers grew smaller with each question. She put away the bundle and offered a place at the table instead.
By morning the traveller had eaten, rested, and arranged to speak with the village healer. Nothing miraculous had happened. Mara washed the bowls while the guild woke around her. Useful care, she thought, did not need a grander name.