The Book of Maladies Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  Alec’s mind finally started to catch up. He turned back to Sam and his training kicked in. He pulled back the sheet, ignoring Sam’s glare and her protest. “What happened to you, Sam?” he asked as he ran his hands along her arms and then her legs. There was no obvious injury that he could see. Whatever had happened wasn’t visible, yet she was injured badly enough that she wanted him to find a way to help her.

  “I was following someone. I probably shouldn’t have been. It doesn’t matter.”

  Alec’s hands paused. “It does matter. If you hurt this badly, it matters.”

  “And she sent for an apothecary. I find that interesting,” Bastan said.

  Alec glanced up at Bastan. Annoyance that had built up within him from the earliest days within the university bubbled to the surface. “It’s only interesting if you think an apothecary is unable to do any healing.”

  “I don’t have any doubt that you are skilled. I have heard of your father. He’s known to be quite a skilled apothecary. What I am surprised by is the fact that Samara believes that you are able to help with an injury that is untreatable.”

  Alec looked at Sam and recognized the concern on her face. She watched him with a pleading expression, and that told him everything he needed to know. She wasn’t just scared, but terrified. If the injury was as bad as Bastan said, and it meant that she couldn’t walk, she would likely prefer to be dead. She was too proud—and strong—to be dependent on someone else.

  He leaned close, putting his face up to her ear and whispered. “I don’t have any more easar paper.” Even what he had used to get away from the university had required that he write over other things.

  Her gaze drifted to the satchel around his neck. He kept his elbow pressed against it, as he always did, ever since he started carrying the paper and blood ink. “None?”

  He opened the satchel and pulled out the only sheet he had. There was no space remaining for him to write. It was completely occupied by his notes.

  Sam rolled her head away. “You’ve been busy. We had more space remaining before you left for the university.”

  “There was a woman who was sick.”

  Sam smiled sadly. “There always is, isn’t there?”

  Bastan cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt and keep the two of you from your… whatever it is,” he said, “but if there’s anything I can do to help Samara, I would like to see that it is done.”

  Sam nodded. “It’s okay, Alec. You need to work with Bastan if we’re going to get any help.”

  “Work with me how?” Bastan asked.

  Alec glanced from Sam to Bastan. If she really couldn’t walk, it was likely that she had fractured her spine. It was the kind of injury that wouldn’t be easy to confirm, and it was one that would be untreatable—unless he had easar paper.

  He couldn’t leave Sam like this. Which meant that he had to trust her, and trust that Bastan would not betray them.

  Could he?

  The other choice was to do nothing, admit Sam would remain paralyzed. He had seen men with spinal injuries in the past; none of them had ever walked again. Most of them died quickly, often within a few months. Was that the fate he wanted to commit Sam to?

  He sighed and handed the sheet of easar paper to Bastan.

  The man took the page, and his gaze skimmed across it. “What is this?” Bastan asked.

  “Those are notes,” Alec said.

  Bastan arched a brow. “I can see that these are notes. Why are you showing them to me?”

  “This paper is called easar paper. This is why your tavern was destroyed.”

  “This is the same paper Samara took from the highborn home?”

  Alec nodded. “It’s the same. It’s the reason the city was attacked, and the reason that…” He glanced down to Sam as he trailed off. Maybe he didn’t need to tell Bastan about the princess, not yet.

  “Why is this important?” Bastan asked.

  “Because the paper has specific qualities that can help me,” Sam said.

  “Qualities?”

  She breathed out in a heavy sigh. “If we had any more paper remaining, we could show you.”

  “Show me what?” Bastan asked.

  “Show you why I wanted you to bring Alec here. He’s the only one who can help heal my back.”

  “Why do you think your friend can help your back with this paper?”

  “Because the paper has magical qualities.”

  Bastan started to laugh. “We could barely write on the paper. I’ll give you credit. You did figure out how to write on it, but anything more than that seems unlikely. Paper like this isn’t useful if you can’t write on it. Even then, it’s probably not all that useful.”

  Sam squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s more useful than you could ever imagine.”

  “Sam. Your friend clearly has access to the university. Let’s use that access and see if there’s anything the healers there can do for you. But I think you need to prepare for the fact that you might never be able to walk again.”

  “I can’t use my arms, either. If I can’t use my arms and I can’t use my legs, what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to be? You think I want to remain an invalid for the rest of my life?”

  “If we can’t heal you, you won’t have much life remaining,” Alec said. “My father has seen paralysis several times. None of those people lived very long after their injury.” He hated to be so brutally honest, but if it was necessary to convince Bastan to help them, he would do it. They needed the paper.

  “Great.” She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to the side so that she could see Bastan. “You have to have some paper remaining.”

  “Is that why you broke into my office?”

  “I told you—”

  “Yes. You told me that you saw men in my office. There have been strange attacks in the city, but I doubt anyone would attempt to break into an office this far out in the outer sections.”

  Alec turned to her, and she shook her head. “All I was trying to do was find easar paper.” She flicked her gaze over to Bastan. “I know you have some remaining. You wouldn’t have sold all of it. You’re too selfish to sell all of it.”

  He snorted. “If I were selfish, I would have sold all of it.”

  “Do you have any more of the paper remaining?” Alec asked.

  It pained him seeing Sam like this, lying there, unable to move, while trying to remain strong. Even the jokes she made were her attempt to not give in. He knew better, and knew she was scared.

  He was scared. If she could no longer walk, no longer flip over the canals, what would become of her? Would she fade away, drifting in her illness, eventually allowing it to claim her as the paralysis had claimed those his father had attempted to heal?

  “I sold what I had,” Bastan said. “I don’t want to see you like this, Samara, but I don’t know how to help you.”

  “It was my mistake,” Sam said. “I saw something from the princess’s guards, and I thought I needed to find out what they were doing.”

  “What did you detect?” Alec asked.

  She started to tremble.

  “Apothecary—” Bastan blurted.

  Alec reached for her, but the trembling began to ease, fading away quickly. Her breathing became irregular, and he stroked her hair, brushing it back from her forehead. Slowly, too slowly, her breathing began to ease and improve. The trembling did not return.

  “What is this?” Bastan asked.

  Alec shook his head. “I haven’t seen paralysis enough to know. Did she hit her head when she fell?”

  “She felt from several stories up. She was found in the Jaku section.”

  That was the same section where she’d found the paper, he was sure of it. “Why was she there?”

  “That’s what I was trying to understand, as well. She shouldn’t have been. It was lucky her brother happened upon her.”

  “What was Tray doing in that section?”

  “Another question I ha
ve no answer for. I believe Marin had set him on his own mission. It’s not one that he shared with me.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I had thought he would be with you. Sam told him to go find you.”

  Could that have been the first figure Alec had seen in the streets? “Your men found me.”

  Bastan shrugged. “Tray may have gone to the university, then.”

  “There were royal soldiers there.”

  “I imagine there are royal soldiers at the university often. The sections are close together, and it wouldn’t be too surprising to have them working together.”

  He didn’t understand why the soldiers were there, or what they would be doing in the Masters’ section of the library, but those answers seem secondary, now. Alec stared at Sam, continuing to smooth back her hair. “We need that paper,” he said softly.

  “Can you really help her with it?” Bastan asked.

  Alec sighed. “I think… I think I can fix this if we have that paper,” he said.

  Bastan looked at her, and there was a surprising emotion in his eyes. Compassion. “She really is more trouble than she is worth.”

  “No. She’s not.”

  Bastan grunted. “No. She’s not.” Bastan watched Sam for a moment before letting out a deep breath. “I might be able to help, but I would need your assistance.”

  Alec frowned. “Why mine?”

  “You do want to help her, don’t you?”

  Alec wanted nothing more than that. “Very much so.”

  “Then we have some work to do.”

  31

  A Dangerous Journey

  Alec followed Bastan until they reached a section of the city that he’d never been to before. That wasn’t terribly surprising, since there were many parts of the city to which he’d never been, but Bastan had a way of navigating through the city that left Alec struggling simply to keep up. Not only did the man moved quickly, but he moved with a confidence that intimidated Alec.

  “Where are we going?” Alec finally asked.

  Bastan slowed long enough for Alec to catch up. “You wanted to help Samara.”

  “I told you I did.”

  “Then you need to come with me.”

  “But where?”

  Bastan looked away from Alec and stared into the distance. “Samara thought I still had most of the paper, but I don’t.”

  “I know. If you did, you would have given it to her, so I could help heal her.”

  “Maybe.”

  Alec smiled inwardly. He knew just how much Sam meant to Bastan, even if the man wasn’t willing to admit it. “Then where is the paper?”

  “There is a certain artist in one of these sections that I sold it to.”

  Alec arched a brow. “An artist?”

  Bastan glared at him. “Is there a problem with that?”

  Alec hurriedly shook his head. “It is not a problem, just… I’m surprised that you sold this paper to an artist.”

  “As I said, it has been of little value to me, but from what I understand, there is a particular way of painting on it that might be effective. I thought that this artist could use it, and…” Bastan shrugged.

  “You know what it takes to write on this paper,” he said.

  “I know. Which was why I thought this particular artist might be successful.”

  As Alec stared at Bastan, he shivered. “They work in blood?”

  “They? No. She. And yes, she works in blood.”

  “Why can’t you simply buy the paper back?”

  “It doesn’t work like that. If I tried to purchase the paper, she would decide that it is far too valuable and likely would charge me a premium. Besides, you have something she might need.”

  Bastan hurried off, saying nothing more, leaving Alec to wonder what he had that this blood artist might need. There was nothing he could come up with that made any sense, nothing that left him feeling anything but unease.

  Alec caught up to Bastan as he crossed over the canal. Bastan said something to the two guards standing watch, and they waved him across without so much as a second glance. How much power to Bastan wield? How well-connected was he in the city? Alec knew that he had connections—he had to for him to be as successful as he was—but he moved from section to section as if he were one of the royal family.

  They reached an outer section. From here, Alec could practically see the sea. He could smell the salt water and heard waves crashing in the distance. An occasional gull cried, splitting the night.

  “Stay close,” Bastan said.

  Alec glanced over, and Bastan had unsheathed his sword. Alec’s eyes widened. Having weapons was forbidden, and carrying them openly… That was something he’d never seen anyone do before.

  “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “I’m sure that getting cut down without being prepared isn’t wise, so this is a little insurance that we won’t get—”

  Three men converged on them, appearing out of an alley.

  Bastan turned to face them. “Not a good idea,” he said.

  One of the men swiped at Bastan with a long, spiked club. “You aren’t from this section. If you were, I—”

  Bastan stabbed forward, slashing faster than Alec could track. The man fell with a spray of blood.

  Bastan glanced at the other two men. “Do either of you think that my not being from this section should matter?”

  The two men shared a look, and they smiled, each withdrawing a sword from a hidden sheath. Was everyone in this section armed? Was this the kind of thing that Bastan dealt with on a regular basis? If Alec had to deal with this often, he didn’t know how he would react. Not as calmly as Bastan managed.

  Bastan stepped in front of Alec, keeping him shielded. “Stay close.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Alec said.

  Bastan lunged. One of the men blocked, and the sound of steel on steel rang out in the night, loud enough that Alec feared it would draw the attention of the city guard, but so far, there had been no sign of soldiers. Then again, this far out in the city, there might not be any soldiers.

  One of the men pressed close, near enough that Alec could practically smell him, and Bastan spun, swinging up his sword and bringing it around in a sharp arc. The nearest attacker fell.

  It left only one man.

  “You can run,” Bastan said. “I won’t hold it against you.”

  “No?” the man asked. He unsheathed a second sword and spun them both, moving with a lithe sort of grace that told Alec he probably knew quite well how to use the swords.

  Maybe he was augmented.

  With what he’d seen, there had to be other Kavers in the city, and maybe there were some who lived on the outskirts of the city, using their abilities like this, rather than how Sam would have used them.

  Bastan assumed a relaxed posture, and surprisingly, when the man attacked, Bastan merely deflected it, bringing his sword around in an almost slow arc, deflecting each of the man’s attacks. He continued a leisurely sort of pace, and Alec began to fear for Bastan, but then, in a flurry of power and speed, he darted forward, swiping twice before the man could react, and splitting him open.

  As the man fell back, his swords clattered to the cobbles, and Bastan wiped his blade on the man’s chest, motioning to Alec to follow. “Time to hurry now.”

  Bastan moved along the street, not bothering to even glance back at the three fallen men.

  There was a part of Alec that felt as if he had an obligation to check on them to see if there was anything he could do for them, but what? Did he think he would try to stitch them back up, only so they could attack him again?

  If he didn’t try to help, what did that make him? Wasn’t he a physicker?

  “Come on, Alec. You’ll get your chance to be a physicker soon enough.”

  Bastan grabbed his sleeve and dragged him forward.

  “I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

  “No? You haven’t seen death?”

&
nbsp; “I haven’t seen fighting like that.”

  “You’ve seen Sam with her staff.”

  “It’s nothing like that.”

  Alec fell silent as they weaved through the streets. With the darkness of night, it made it difficult for him to keep track of where they were. Without Bastan, he wasn’t sure he would be able to make it back on his own. Maybe that was Bastan’s plan. Finally, they stopped at a nondescript building. It was in better shape than many of the buildings nearby, and even had intact windows, unlike some of them that were simply boarded up.

  Bastan pounded on the door. “Back up,” he said.

  Alec did as he was told and moved out of the way. The door flung open, and a sharp-tipped spear flew toward them from the darkened doorway. Had Alec not moved out of the way, he would have been speared through the chest.

  “I’m here to see Mags,” Bastan said.

  “Mags doesn’t see anyone at this time of night.”

  “She’ll see me,” Bastan said.

  A face poked out into the night. It was an elderly man, though as Alec stared, he realized that maybe he wasn’t nearly as old as he seemed.

  “Bastan. You fool. What are you doing coming here at this hour? You know how this section can get.”

  “Only because Mags lets it get like this.”

  “I think others have requested that you make your presence known, but from what I understand, you have refused.”

  “This place isn’t for me, not yet,” Bastan said. “Now, Henrik, are you going to let me in?”

  The old man stepped out of the way, and Bastan hurried inside. He glanced back at Alec and gave a tip of his head, nodding for him to follow. Alec did so, not wanting to argue with Bastan, and certainly not wanting to stay on the street. Every so often, he thought he saw movement and he jumped. If he stayed here, something would surely happen, and without Bastan… Alec had no doubt he would not survive for long without Bastan.

  Henrik led them through what turned out to be a tidy house. It was not decorated with anything but had decent-quality furniture and appeared comfortable. A hearth in the corner had glowing embers. They passed through the room and up a set of stairs, and the upper level was different. It was completely empty, except for a single person standing in the middle of the room, carrying what appeared to be a long stick that touched the ground.