The Book of Maladies Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  “It’s just… It’s just that you’re walking so Kyza-cursed fast.”

  “After what has happened here, I need to make haste,” Marin said.

  “Who were those two?” Sam asked. “They were armed, so they weren’t concerned about being caught. Who do they work for?”

  Marin slowed a moment. “How do you know they work for anyone?”

  “I know it’s not Bastan. He sent me, and if he sent me, he wouldn’t have sent them.” At least, she didn’t think he would. Then again, she wouldn’t entirely put it past Bastan to pull a trick like that. He could be a bit of a bastard. He hadn’t sent a second crew on one of her missions in a while, but he had been known to do it before, especially when he was concerned something might get away.

  Such as the box that Marin now had?

  “No. I don’t think they work for Bastan,” Marin said with a hint of a smile.

  “What is it? What’s in there?”

  “Nothing that you need to concern yourself about.”

  “Why was it in this warehouse?”

  “Bait.”

  “Bait?”

  Marin nodded. “It was bait. I’m the one who placed it in the warehouse. I don’t know how Bastan discovered it, and I’ll be honest, it troubles me that he sent you, but I needed to know whether I’ve been compromised.”

  “Compromised? What would that even mean?”

  “You understand the delicate nature of what I do.”

  Marin led them back to the warehouse and ducked inside, pulling the door closed behind them. She went to a lantern hidden along the wall, and turned up the gas so that it glowed brightly. The inside of the warehouse was sparse, with no decorations. There was the lantern, and another was on the other side of the room hanging from a post. Rows of empty shelves were here. There were a few paintings, and some artifacts, sculptures, and other things similar. Sam pocketed one when Marin wasn’t looking, deciding that if nothing else, she should have something to give to Bastan.

  “I don’t know anything about what you do, Marin. All I know is that you’ve told me that I’m a Kaver, but not what that means.”

  “You have to be careful with your abilities, especially in the city,” Marin said. “You need to stay in the outer sections. If you get caught…”

  “What will happen if I get caught?”

  “Just make sure you don’t,” Marin said.

  Sam frowned. “I want to understand these abilities better.”

  “And you will, in time. Once everything has settled down, I can help you understand what you’re capable of doing.” Marin looked at her, frowning as she did. “Unless you have already continued your studies with your Scribe.”

  “We’re out of easar paper.”

  Marin grunted and set the box down. “That’s probably for the best,” she said.

  Sam eyed the box. All she wanted was to take a look at what was inside. With Marin, she doubted she would be given that opportunity, but she wanted to know what Marin would have used as bait. What would be so appealing that it would draw Bastan out?

  Marin seemed to notice Sam looking and leaned on the box. “I think you need to return to Caster.”

  “Why?”

  “It is dangerous for you.”

  “Because I’m a Kaver or because of something you’re doing?”

  Marin stared at her. “Yes.”

  “Let me help.”

  Marin shook her head. “No. You don’t get to help, not with this.”

  “I don’t get to help with this? This doesn’t make any sense. Why won’t you let me help?”

  “You need return to Caster. Stay safe.”

  Sam threw her hands up in frustration. “I can’t stay safe, not until I know what I am! And I can’t even find Tray. It seems you’ve always got him working on your behalf. Why him and not me?” There had been a time when she would have refused working for Marin, but it would give her the chance at answers she needed.

  “Just do this, Samara. Answers will come when everything is done.”

  “What sort of everything?”

  Marin breathed out heavily. “When the Thelns attacked, we gained the wrong kind of attention.”

  “What kind is that? More Thelns?”

  “They’ll return. Now that they know they can, there’s plenty of reason for them to return—especially Ralun.” Marin watched her for a long moment. “The Thelns are the only ones that pose a danger to you and your brother. I intend to ensure that the two of you are safe in the city, but I can’t do that if you continue to chase people through the streets and expose yourself. If you put yourself in danger, there is nothing I can do that will keep you safe.”

  “I don’t need you to keep me safe, Marin.”

  “Trust me, Samara. With this, you do.”

  Sam waited for her to say something more, but Marin didn’t. She continued to rest her hand on the box and stare at Sam, practically demanding that she leave. Sam didn’t have any choice but to do so.

  7

  An Attack on the Tavern

  Sam reached Bastan’s tavern, keeping her cloak thrown around her shoulders, shrouding herself with it. The sculpture she’d taken from Marin’s warehouse was in her pocket, its weight a heavy reminder that she had failed Bastan.

  She hated the idea that she had failed him. She had never failed him before, and this time, it wasn’t even her fault.

  And what was Marin playing at?

  If she wouldn’t work with her to help her with her abilities, Sam was determined to find some way to better understand them, even if that meant that she had to break into Bastan’s office to find the easar paper supply he still possessed.

  She waited along the back entrance to the tavern that Bastan thought he kept hidden until he disappeared along the street, heading away from the tavern. When she was certain he was gone, she pulled the door open. The hall was dark with no sign of a lantern.

  The door to his office was locked, so she pulled out her lock-pick set. Bastan’s gift had saved her a few times. As he had taught her early on, she twisted it from side to side, moving it slowly in a pattern to trip the tumblers, until the lock clicked open. If Bastan hadn’t wanted her to get into his office, he shouldn’t have taught her.

  After slipping inside, she closed the door behind her and remained in the darkness for a moment. There were no sounds, nothing of breathing or footsteps or anything. She crept toward Bastan’s desk.

  She remembered he kept a lantern there. She fumbled around the top of the desk until she found it. Getting it lit was difficult in the dark, but finally she managed. She kept the light to a soft glow, enough for her to make her way around the room but not so much that it would draw attention from anyone on the other side of the door.

  Her heart raced. She shouldn’t be in Bastan’s office without him, but she needed to find more of the easar paper. That was her prize. She doubted that he’d sold it, at least not all of it. If she could get enough of a supply, she and Alec could continue to practice, and they wouldn’t be restricted by the supply of paper.

  As she sat in Bastan’s chair, she smiled to herself. She could envision him sitting in the chair this way, thumbing through his stack of documents and looking over his records. He was probably deciding which pieces of art to purchase and which to steal. Even with what he stole, there were times when he’d spend more on a piece of art than most people would make in an entire year.

  Sam looked quickly through them, searching for the easar paper, finding nothing. She pushed the stack of papers back into place, careful to make certain they were as Bastan had left him.

  The next stack was different. A few of the pages had sketches on them. Others were marked, making her think that he had already decided to go after them.

  She took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, surveying his office. There were tapestries on the walls, but also paintings, some with paint that had long ago faded while others had more vibrant colors. Sam knew little about art and had little idea abou
t why these would be appealing to Bastan, other than their price. Most of these were incredibly valuable.

  Her gaze fell on two sculptures in the corner. They were small, and Sam had seen them before. They were probably no taller than she was and appeared to be locked in a sort of battle. They were old—likely as old as some of the paintings in the room—based on their worn and crumbled condition. Maybe the damage from years past even added to their value. Neither sculpture had both arms. One of the sculptures missed one ear.

  The more Sam stared at them, the more she began to feel a sense of tension, almost a strange sort of unease. Maybe that was the reason Bastan valued it.

  Sam settled back, leaning her elbows on the armrests.

  Where would Bastan keep the easar paper?

  It had to be someplace here. He was secretive, but he was also predictable, and she had to believe that he wouldn’t keep it so well hidden that he couldn’t reach it easily. Would he view the paper as part of his art collection? He knew each piece was valuable—but he also knew that it wasn’t easily written upon. She’d not shared more than that with him.

  Sam pulled open a few of the drawers and found nothing other than more files. One of the drawers was locked, and she slipped her knife along the edge, trying to pry it open. The drawer resisted, and she stopped. She wasn’t about to destroy Bastan’s office searching for the paper, not without knowing whether or not it was even here. If he discovered that she had broken in, he’d be angry but would get over it. If she destroyed something in here, she wasn’t sure what his reaction would be.

  Sam stood and looked around the room. Other than the art collected, there were several shelves with books. Much like the artwork, Sam suspect he collected them for a particular reason, not seeking knowledge so much as he sought to simply collect.

  The two sculptures in the corner drew her toward them. They were smooth, almost metallic, and their surface was cold. It was strange, but she thought she felt a strange vibration deep within them.

  Turning to the paintings on the wall, she wouldn’t put it past Bastan to hide something behind the paintings. In fact, that was exactly the kind of thing he might do. She pulled the nearest portrait off the wall and found nothing but stone. She did the same with the next few but found nothing behind them.

  She paused when she reached the next portrait. It looked a little different from the others, almost like a map of the canals if she tipped her head to the right and squinted. She had spent enough time jumping the canals to know what they looked like.

  She pulled it off the wall and saw a dark shadow behind it.

  A sound came from the other side of the door.

  Kyza!

  She thought she’d have more time before Bastan returned, but maybe she’d misjudged. Or maybe she had taken too long at the desk as she sorted through his papers.

  She adjusted the portrait on the wall and pulled her cloak around her shoulders, hurrying to the door. She could sneak out the back of his office, but she wanted to listen. Maybe it wasn’t Bastan, and she had more time.

  Feet thudded across the floorboards.

  “Check out back,” a voice said.

  It was a deep voice and it rumbled, reminding her somewhat of the Thelns. Could they have already returned? That was one thing Marin had shared with her: the Thelns would return. She wasn’t ready… not without practicing more. And without Alec, she couldn’t do anything against them.

  She shifted her cloak around her shoulders and grabbed her canal staff. Even disassembled, she had a weapon.

  “It’s locked,” someone said.

  She was too close to the door, and she hadn’t realized they had tested the handle.

  “Break it down.” That came from the first voice she had heard.

  Bastan’s men wouldn’t break down the door. That meant someone else.

  There came another wiggling at the lock.

  Kyza!

  She quickly twisted the two ends of her staff together as something thudded onto the door.

  Were she only augmented—even as the stupid giant—she could have held the door closed, though she doubted she would have been able to push against the attacker for long. There were limits to strength she could get with her augmentations. Had she more time, she could move the desk and drag it in front of the door, but that would only draw attention to her presence. The only other option she had was to jam the canal staff into place, blocking them from knocking it down.

  Someone thudded on the door again.

  Sam leaned on her staff, pressing it against the door.

  What she wouldn’t give to have Tray with her. With his brutish size and strength, he would be able to at least hold the door closed.

  When the attacker hit the door a third time, Sam was pushed backward, and the door sprang open.

  She paused long enough to determine whether she recognized the man—worried that it might actually be one of Bastan’s—but didn’t.

  She swung her canal staff. It cracked him along his skull and he dropped.

  Sam ducked against the wall, waiting for the next person. There came the sound of punching and grunting out in the main part of the tavern, but no one else came through the door. Feet thundered across the floorboards, and she prepared to strike, gripping her staff tightly.

  She craned her head around the corner of the door and saw men dressed like the one in the office with her along with several others she recognized. One of them was Kevin, the cook who was always friendly to her, and he lay with his head turned to the side so that she could see his glazed eyes, blood starting to pool.

  If Kevin was dead…

  No. She could hear his breathing, enough to know that he still lived, but for how much longer?

  She didn’t recognize either of the other men in the tavern, and no one moved.

  What had happened?

  These attackers must have thought to attack the tavern just when Kevin and the others had returned—or come out of the kitchen. It seemed as if they had knocked each other out, leaving the tavern a disaster, but there was no one else here.

  But why had the attackers come in the first place?

  She ducked back into Bastan’s office and searched the man she’d knocked out. A pair of knives and some coins. She claimed those, pocketing them, payment for her trouble. She stepped back out into the tavern and worked through the others, but found nothing that would explain who they were.

  Standing and surveying the inside of the tavern, her gaze settled on the men again. Something caught her attention.

  A ring.

  There was a pattern on the ring, and she recognized it.

  The palace.

  Why would someone from the palace attack Bastan’s tavern?

  Now wasn’t the time to search for those answers.

  Now was the time to go.

  As she started to get up, she heard footsteps on the stairs to the entrance and Bastan’s deep rumble of a voice.

  8

  The Aftermath

  As Bastan walked through the tavern toward his office, Sam debated her options. She could hide, either ducking into the kitchen or perhaps slip into a dark corner of the tavern, but she wouldn’t get any answers if she did that. She wanted to know what had happened and whether Bastan would reveal anything. Neither would happen if she hid rather than coming out into the open.

  The other option involved attempting to deceive Bastan. She wasn’t sure whether she would even be able to. Bastan wasn’t the kind of person you attempted to mislead, even if he could be.

  She held tightly to her canal staff and stood amid the fallen bodies, waiting. If nothing else, she might be able to get an answer before she left.

  As Bastan approached, he scanned the room, his gaze finally settling on Sam. “Is this your doing?”

  “It’s not my fault,” she said. “I came in and they were trying to break into your office. Kevin and the others were—”

  Bastan raised a hand, silencing her. He knelt next to Kevin and bent
his head close to determine if he was breathing. When he was content that he was, he stood. “Why were you here?”

  “You had a job for me.”

  “That you failed to complete.”

  Sam patted the pocket that held the small sculpture she’d stolen from Marin’s warehouse. He knew. “Marin was—”

  “I know what Marin was.”

  Sam looked around the tavern. Why had he sent her if he knew? “Why were you attacked? What do you have that they were after?”

  “I don’t have anything that they would be after.”

  Sam could think of something they might be after. The same reason the city had been attacked. The stupid highborns had brought it upon the city and they couldn’t even be bothered to clean up their mess. “Not even the paper?”

  Bastan stared at her. “Samara. What are you trying to get at?”

  “Just trying to understand what happened here. The people that were attacked are my friends, too.”

  Bastan looked over his tavern, his brow furrowing. She had seen him angry before, but it had been a while. “It’s possible.” He stepped over a few of the bodies and reached the door to his office. Once there, he stepped inside.

  Sam waited, uncertain whether he would come right back out.

  “Samara?”

  Sam took a deep breath as she made her way to Bastan, heading toward him hesitantly. Had he found some sign of her presence there? Had he realized that she moved the papers and examined the paintings? She was confident she had been more careful than that, but she couldn’t be certain.

  When she stepped inside, he frowned at her. “Tell me, Samara, how this man ended up this way.”

  “I don’t know. It looks like he was attacked here,” she said.

  Bastan grunted. “Yes. Attacked. I would make the same assessment.” He crouched next to the fallen man and turned his head to the side, revealing the place where Sam’s staff had struck him. “This is an interesting injury.”

  Sam’s mind raced. He had to know that she was the one to knock this man out, which meant that he knew she had been in his office. With a sigh, she tapped her canal staff on the ground, and the sound rang out sharply. Too loudly. “I saw movement in here and came back, not certain what had happened…”