The Book of Maladies Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  “How often would you apply this?” Master Eckerd asked.

  “Typically, twice a day would be sufficient, but with a wound like this, I might suggest doing it three times a day to ensure that it is healing adequately.”

  “That sounds like a reasonable plan. Make sure that you are here three times a day, Mr. Stross.”

  Alec swallowed.

  With that, he motioned the students toward the next cot. When Alec followed, Master Eckerd turned and looked at him. “You need to document your treatment plan in the record. You will find it hanging at the end of the bed.”

  Alec blinked and made his way around to the foot of the bed where a binder was hanging. He pulled it open and saw a list of the patient’s presenting symptoms and the treatments that had been tried. Nothing that was written there would be effective, and it offended him that someone would have tried some of them. Could that actually have been a physicker who would’ve tried to place upson oil on the wound? It might have irritated the tissue enough to cause some mild debridement, but it would never have been enough.

  Alec found a free section and documented the debridement done by Master Eckerd and then the ointment that he applied, followed by the treatment frequency. When he was done, he replaced the record and let out a satisfied breath.

  It was always rewarding for him to treat, especially when it was something that he thought he could help with, as was the case here.

  He caught up to the group, and they were already working on another patient. It was another infection, but this one was much better controlled, and Master Eckerd seemed to be demonstrating the spectrum of disease. Alec focused, wanting to hear what insights Master Eckerd might have, thinking he could compare them to what his father did, but they were similar enough.

  They continued through their rounds, and when they were done, Master Eckerd dismissed the students. Alec started filing out after them, when Master Eckerd called after him.

  “Mr. Stross.”

  Alec turned.

  “You have a much greater breadth of knowledge than your classmates.”

  “I credit my father, Master Eckerd. As you know—”

  “Yes. I understand that your father is an apothecary and you have trained with him. All I am saying is that you are not being well served by sitting through the entry-level classes and the entry-level lectures. It is unusual for students your age to have much success at the university. I think it’s only because of how clear it was that you were prepared that you were granted entry,” he said.

  Alec felt his heart sink. Was Master Eckerd going to dismiss him?

  “And I think that you would be better served by a little more challenge. Do you think you would be ready to sit through some of the more senior-level classes?”

  Alec blinked. “I don’t know. Do you think I am ready for them?”

  “From what I’ve seen, you have the knowledge and you certainly are well-versed in the various treatments. We do you no service by holding you back. That has never been the intent of the university. I will speak with the other master physickers, but if they all agree, I intend to see you promoted to senior student.”

  Alec could only stare. “I… I would like that.”

  Master Eckerd clapped him on the shoulder. “Good work with that wound. I will follow-up with you to see how well it’s healing.”

  With that, Master Eckerd left Alec and disappeared down the hallway. Alec turned and looked into the hospital ward. Could it be that he had found his place?

  If so, what did that mean for him and Sam?

  Probably nothing. Without easar paper, there would be no more Kaver and Scribe. Without the ability to practice their augmentations, their gifts were of no use. Unless… In his mind’s eye, he pictured the leather-bound book he’d seen Master Eckerd reviewing.

  But if he was wrong, and there was no paper to be found, maybe it was for the best. Maybe this was where he was meant to be. It would make his father proud, but Alec wasn’t sure how he felt. Was this what he wanted?

  And if it wasn’t, what did he want?

  28

  A Surprise and a Fall

  Sam pulled the hood of her cloak up and waited for Bastan outside his tavern. It was time to get him involved, especially since Marin was hiding something from her. She didn’t love the idea of sharing with him, but who else could she trust?

  There were other Kavers in the city. And Marin had attacked them.

  She was determined to find answers. Maybe borrow a few sheets of easar paper from him to practice with Alec—if he would ever return. And then?

  Then she would need to figure out why Marin worried about her and Tray, what she knew of the highborns who had stolen the paper, and when the Thelns might attack. She had to have answers.

  There were answers here, somewhere, but she couldn’t think through them. Maybe she needed to think more like Alec to come up with them. He was analytical, and she needed to learn to think that way.

  There weren’t good answers.

  After a time, she determined Bastan wasn’t there. She made her way out and onto the street. Giving the area a quick search, she climbed up onto the roof of a nearby building. It had been a while since she’d experienced an augmentation, long enough that she actually longed for one, missing the strength they provided.

  As she watched below, two men came along the street. They weren’t thieves. She had seen enough thieves to know the way they walked. They weren’t thugs, either. Typically, thugs were larger and more solid, but these men were neither.

  They didn’t belong in Caster.

  She didn’t know where they belonged, but this wasn’t their section.

  Could they be more Kavers?

  She stalked closer, hoping to overhear something, but couldn’t, not from her distance. The men split off, going in opposite directions.

  Sam hesitated.

  She could stay, but she wanted to follow.

  She chose the older of the two.

  She trailed him through the streets, and when he reached a canal and crossed over the bridge, she barely hesitated to use her canal staff to leap over the canal. On the other side, she made her way along the street to find him again, and once more followed after him, moving quickly.

  And then the man jumped.

  There was something about his movements that was powerful, graceful, and reminded her of Marin.

  He must be a Kaver.

  Now she had an even greater urgency to follow him. He went into a different section, one she had rarely entered, and the buildings here were a bland sort of stone, with nothing of the age and sense of style that Caster had.

  Sam managed to keep pace, but she did so at a distance. Bastan’s training made it almost instinctual to stay in the shadows, moving in silence.

  The man paused in front of a gray stone building. The door opened, letting out a flickering light. Was that a canal staff that she saw beneath his cloak?

  Sam didn’t know.

  If he was a Kaver, could he be augmented?

  Could she find others?

  Muffled voices came from the doorway, and Sam backed up.

  She was too close. She would get caught if she stayed here.

  She planted her staff on the stone and bolted up, reaching the lower edge of the rooftop. From there, she managed to get a handle on a lip of stone and used that to drag herself the rest the way. She almost lost her canal staff, but hooked one end to her belt, keeping it attached to her. If she lost that, if it clattered to the stones, not only would the men—or Kavers—inside likely hear it, but she would lose her way back across the canal.

  The door opened and a several soldiers came out.

  Sam gasped softly. The princess was with them.

  Even in the darkness, Sam noted her dark hair flowing down her back, bound with ribbons. She wore the crimson and blue, even here, colors that stood out in the section.

  The man that Sam had followed walked alongside her.

  As did the other she’d seen
in Caster.

  What was this? What would these people have wanted in Caster?

  And why would the princess be with these men?

  One of the men turned.

  In the faint moonlight, she clearly saw a staff.

  Kavers.

  Her heart thudded.

  What did it mean that the princess had two Kavers with her? What did it mean that they had gone to Caster? And what did it mean that they had attacked Bastan and his tavern?

  Could the princess be in danger again?

  She didn’t appear to be, given that she had soldiers accompanying here, but what did Sam know?

  She had to follow.

  Sam made her way from one building to the next, keeping ahead of the procession. As she went, she continued to watch them, noting the movement of the two men on either side of the princess.

  They were augmented. They had to be.

  The procession moved at a determined clip, and the men remained close, with the two men that she was certain were Kavers staying on either side of her. Sam was forced to move more rapidly than she preferred.

  They made their way out of the section and into another—this one familiar to her. It was where she had found the easar paper.

  Why would they be here?

  They stopped at a building and Sam wondered if it might be the same building where the easar paper—and the book—had been. A woman greeted them in a doorway, and Sam tried to shift along the rooftop to get a better vantage.

  There wasn’t one. Not here.

  The next building over was a different story.

  Reaching it would involve a significant jump, possibly farther than she’d ever jumped before. Could she do it? She could climb down and scurry across the street but doing so was slower and would put her in danger of getting noticed.

  She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She had to ignore them if she was going to make it across. If she couldn’t, she would crash into the street, a fall that was far enough to be more than she could survive.

  Sam backed up, preparing for the jump. She raced forward, needing to time it exactly right. From this height, there would be no pushing off with her canal staff. There would be nothing but her own velocity.

  When she reached the edge and pushed off, she could feel that something was wrong.

  She twisted, flailing, kicking out, scrambling for the ledge on the other side.

  She slipped as she grabbed it.

  Panic set in, tearing through her.

  When she crashed to the ground, her canal staff clattered loudly. She tried to get up and run, but her limbs didn’t work as they should.

  The sound of footsteps coming toward her drew her attention. Sam wanted to move and stand, but she couldn’t.

  All she felt was agony.

  The pain became unbearable, overwhelming her. She began to drift and lost consciousness.

  29

  A Painful Awakening

  Sam came awake slowly, pain racking her body. Her mind felt like a clouded mess. There was nothing there. All she could think of was pain.

  Light surrounded her. It seemed to come from all over. It was a bright, overwhelming light.

  What had happened to her?

  She tried moving her arms, but they didn’t work as they should. Her legs didn’t respond, either.

  Sam strained to find a comfortable position, but there was none.

  As she shifted, hands pressed down on her. She couldn’t see them and realized that though she saw light, she saw not much else.

  “Stop trying to move, Sam,” someone said.

  Sam recognized the voice, but why was it that she did? It wasn’t Tray, and it wasn’t Alec, but it was familiar.

  “My legs,” she said.

  “You injured your back, Samara.”

  That voice she did recognize. It was Bastan, but why would she be with him? Who would have brought her to Bastan?

  She remembered the fall and could remember the pain she felt when she struck the ground, but little other than that. For her to be here, for someone to have gotten her to Bastan, meant that someone had to know that she knew him.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  “I think you should focus more on what happened to you, Samara.”

  “I fell,” she said.

  She smelled Bastan before she could see him. He appeared near her and leaned close, his breath hot and smelling of tea. Despite the fact that Bastan owned the tavern, she never saw him drinking ale. It was always tea and often with some flavoring.

  “I can see that you fell, Samara. How did you fall?”

  “I was jumping, and I slipped. Isn’t that enough of an answer?”

  “I know that you were jumping, but why were you in that section again?”

  Sam tried to take a deep breath, but it didn’t seem as if her chest moved nearly enough. “Stupidity, I suppose.”

  Bastan leaned close, and her eyesight began to clear. She noticed him arching a brow. “I’ve known you to be many things, Samara, but stupidity has never been one of them.”

  She didn’t know whether she agreed with that assessment. There were times when she felt incredibly stupid. She was stupid for thinking she could follow the men with the princess—Kavers or not. She was stupid for thinking she might understand something that was clearly beyond her. And she was stupid for thinking Marin might provide answers. All she’d given her were more questions.

  “How did I get here?”

  “You don’t know?” Bastan replied.

  “She was unconscious when I carried her here,” a voice said. Sam almost recognized it, but it was deep and had strange edge to it.

  Why should she recognize that voice? What was it that was familiar? It was almost like…

  “Tray?”

  A face loomed close, and she saw her brother. She hadn’t seen him much in the last few weeks, but he looked older—more mature—than he had the last time she’d seen him. He couldn’t have changed that much, could he?

  “How is it that you’re here?”

  “I think a thank you would be more appropriate, don’t you?”

  “Fine. Thanks. It doesn’t answer how you’re here.”

  Tray was close enough that she could see him bite the inside of his lip, and recognized the hesitation in him. She knew her brother well enough to know that hesitation like that was unusual. He was trying to hide something from her.

  “Just tell me, Tray.”

  “I’m not supposed to.”

  “Because Marin told you not to?”

  Tray sighed and nodded. “She asked me to keep an eye on you.”

  Sam started to laugh before realizing that he had been serious. “She asked you to watch me?”

  “Sam—”

  “No. I saw you. I was there the day you met with Marin.”

  “Sam—” he started, this time a little more emphatically.

  Sam shook her head, though it was weak. “You’ve got to stop trying to keep things from me,” she said to Tray. “I know you’ve been helping her, but we still don’t know whether we can trust her.”

  “And I should be trusting you? You have been keeping things from me, as well.”

  “Only because I need to. It’s the only way I can keep you from doing anything stupid.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s not what I mean—”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “No, you don’t. All I’ve ever wanted was to keep you safe. After losing our mother, why do you think I’ve been willing to take on these jobs? It’s not because I enjoy sneaking around. It’s not because I enjoy stealing what Bastan has asked of me.”

  Bastan chuckled. “You might not have enjoyed it, Samara, but you never hesitated when I asked. You have a gift for it. I think in time, I can groom you to take over for me.”

  Bastan had never told her his plans for her, but she had suspected that he had something in mind for her. She didn’t know how she felt about his interest in turning her into
a thief like this.

  “Eventually, someone will need to take over. You have the necessary temperament for it.”

  “What about Marin?”

  Bastan waved his hand. “Marin never wanted any power here. Oh, she might occasionally take some of my business, but she’s more useful than that. She moves between sections, and does so often enough that she has connections, and has the ability to smuggle things out. She is no consolidator of authority.”

  Sam closed her eyes, breathing slowly in and out. The pain was tremendous, but it was more than simply the pain she felt. There was also the numbness. It was a sort of nothingness. It terrified her.

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  “As you said, you fell. From quite a height,” Bastan said. There was compassion in his voice, something that was unusual for him. Whatever had happened, it was significant enough that it troubled him.

  “Bastan—”

  “Tray found you on the street.”

  “My staff,” she started.

  Bastan shook his head. “Your staff is fine. Tray brought it with him. I doubt you will be needing it, though.”

  “Why is that? Do you think to prevent me from crossing canals now?”

  “I will not.”

  “Good, because if you think to prevent me from going between the sections, you’re going to find that I’m harder to control than that. I have no intention of remaining confined in Caster.” Then again, if she had remained in Caster, maybe none of this would’ve happened.

  “Samara, I think you’ve missed something crucial.”

  She looked at him. “What?”

  A pained look crossed his face. She’d never seen Bastan quite like this. What bothered him so much? What was it he didn’t want to share?

  “What is it? What are you keeping from me?”

  Tray rested a hand on her shoulder. His face had twisted into a sad frown. “Your back. When you fell, you injured your back. I don’t know…”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Tray repeated.

  Bastan sighed. “It’s a bad injury. I’ve seen others like it, and depending on the severity of the injury, many aren’t able to ever walk again.”