“Your stomach’s in pretty bad shape. Are you taking any medicine for that?”
The energy twanged against hers, and Agna flinched, severing the connection. “It’s not from last night,” he snapped. “Never mind that.”
“Fine, fine.” As a medic he should know better, and she was trying to do him a favor. If he was going to be difficult, though, that was his problem. She laid her hand along the lump on his cheekbone. It was awkward twisting her wrist backward, her left hand against the left side of his face. Her impression was flipped over, like trying to write by looking in a mirror. She was prepared for the harsh tone of his energy signature this time, and screened out her growing irritation. She was almost finished.
The bone hadn’t cracked, and though the swelling would get worse through the day, there wasn’t much she could do about that. Bruising injuries were far too complicated, compared to the time they took to heal naturally. And there was little risk of infection. If he could bear it, she would let it be.
The cut on his lip would be easy, at least. Agna cupped his chin in her hand and brushed her thumb over the cut. The Yanweian tensed, blushing, but it was healed before he could pull away.
“I–” He felt the spot as Agna caught her breath. Minor operations, every one. Perhaps she needed to catch up on her rest. She felt a little woozy. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re welcome,” Agna muttered, trying to get her head together. She’d intended to heal his neck, as well. But he was still ranting.
“That’s not right. You shouldn’t – you didn’t ask. You always ask before you do things to people. I’ve seen you.”
Anger overtook her fatigue. He’d noticed that? He had suddenly decided to notice anything she ever did, only to lecture her on medical ethics? Worse, he was right. She hadn’t been thinking. “‘Do things to people’ like help them?”
“Yes! Do you not have any code of ethics in Nessiny?”
“Of course we do. What do you know?” Her head hurt along with her shoulder, and she wanted to cry again, which fed her fury. “Could you at least try to be grateful?”
“I am! But you...” He trailed off, and got up to leave. “Never mind. To respect my independence, you’d have to think of me as human first. I’ll get your things. Go see the Captain. I’ll meet you there.” He slapped the tent flap aside and was gone.
Crying would let him win. Agna blew out the lantern and charged out of the tent toward the Captain’s wagon, leaving the Yanweian and everything else behind.
Agna: Interview
Agna hated meeting the Captain half-dressed and carting her arm in a sling. She looked broken. Weak. But there was nothing to be done for it.
A guard stood outside the Captain’s door. She took in Agna’s face and the sling; her eyes slid away to the ground. “Healer. Please go in, the Captain is expecting you.” She opened the door. Agna clumsily took the step up inside and let her eyes adjust to the light. “The Nessinian healer, ma’am,” the guard announced, and continued her watch outside.
In the cabin, the Captain and the captain of the caravan guard faced one another. The master of records sat at a tiny desk with a ledger and pen at the ready, looking miserable.
The slight Kaveran woman offered Agna a little bow. “I apologize, personally and for the Golden Caravan, for last night’s attack. The safety of our member merchants and their goods is of primary importance to us.”
“I...” The rant that Agna had composed in her head on the way over broke apart. The Captain’s words were formal enough. Too formal? Were they sincere? “How could this happen?”
The guard captain blinked. “We’re very sorry, miss—”
“Healer. Agent. Despana.”
“—Agent Despana. We will increase our patrols in areas of known activity, but there are four hundred merchants in the Caravan and twenty guards.”
“Hire more.”
The Captain sighed. “This is a very complex decision.”
“They could have killed me. An agent of the Benevolent Union and a second-order healer of the Church of the Divine Balance and a child of the Despanas of Murio. Do you want that on your heads?”
The three caravan officials traded a glance. The Captain spoke for them. “I think you’d better calm down.”
“I will not. I could have been killed.”
The guard captain looked at his folded hands; the master of records twirled his pen in his fingers; the Captain sat down, crossed one knee over the other and waited. Agna wanted to throw the nearest chair at their heads, but she couldn’t lift it one-handed. She hadn’t had time to inventory what had been stolen from her trunk, and she hadn’t had time for breakfast. Her stomach was growling, and her head spun. She couldn’t waste time arguing with these Kaveran bureaucrats. They only needed to give her a guarantee that nothing like this would ever happen again. What was so hard about that?
Finally the guard captain cleared his throat. “We’ll take measures to forestall such an attack in the future, and increase our night patrols. We do have a record of no more than two incidents a year over the last five years, and most were less severe than this. The Golden Caravan has some of the best security in Kavera. It is unfortunate that you were at the center of this situation, but I assure you that it does not happen frequently.”
“So I’ll get my arm broken twice a year. That’s lovely.”
“Agent.” The Captain leveled a dark glare at her. “I understand that you’re upset, but if you can’t converse civilly, our interview will wait until you can.”
Agna clenched her jaw and tried to take a deep breath. “...Fine. All right. All right.”
The guard captain acknowledged her concession with a nod. The door swung open.
“The Yanweian healer, ma’am.”
“Medic,” Agna heard him say. She flushed at the sound of his voice, but would not look over at him. She would have to apologize for their argument this morning. Another thing that she had no time to do. The Yanweian addressed the captains. “Thank you for sending the guards to help me load our things. It’s much appreciated.”
“You’re welcome, Agent,” the Captain replied. “I was just saying to your companion – the Golden Caravan apologizes, as do I, for the attack last night. Our merchants’ safety is very important to us.”
“Thank you.”
“We’re all here, Calli,” the Captain called in the direction of the door. The guard outside popped her head back in. “Tell Eytaris we can move when the caravan moves.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ll ride with me, till our next stop,” the Captain explained. “We need to talk for a bit.”
“What about our things?” Agna blurted.
The Yanweian, having taken his place next to her, leaned in. “They’ve loaded them onto the wagon for us, and a guard is staying with them until we go back.”
“...Oh.”
“Now then,” the Captain said. “We’ve got business to attend to. Have either of you had a chance to inventory what was stolen?”
“I have, ma’am,” the Yanweian said. Of course he had. “But I haven’t had a chance to translate it. I wrote it in Yanweian. I’m sorry.”
“Read it to us, then. Ethi, write it down, will you?”
The master of records waited as the Yanweian unfolded a slip of paper from his pocket and began to read aloud. “Um. Stolen. Three scalpels, various sizes. A bottle of cough medicine. A bottle of disinfecting alcohol. And a bottle of anesthetic compound – mostly purified knockseed.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all that was stolen, ma’am.”
“Anything damaged? We want to be thorough, go on.”
The Yanweian proceeded through his inventory. Agna had seen him pack and unpack his medical kit often enough; he had named many of the things in it as either broken or damaged. When the master of records had transcribed the whole list, the Yanweian put his copy away.
“Thank you, Agent. Agent Despana, how a
bout you?”
“...I didn’t have time to look.” Agna flexed her free hand. “I just got up. I needed to sleep after using the healing power too much last night.”
“Understandably so,” the Captain replied. “Can you check while we talk here?”
“I – don’t think I can get there and back. Not before the caravan sets out.” It had taken her long enough just to get bathed and dressed. They’d be halfway to the mountains by the time she finished wrangling all of her remaining possessions one-handed.
“That’s fine. Calli?”
“Yes, Captain?” The guard appeared in the door.
“Fetch the healer’s luggage, please. A trunk, was it?” she directed at Agna.
“Uh – yes.”
“Right away, ma’am.” The door closed.
“So. A question for both of you, while we wait. Within reason, how can we help you feel safe in our camp?”
Agna had turned over thoughts like this on the way to the Captain’s wagon, some more elaborate and punitive than others. But all came down to one conclusion: Stop it. Stop it from ever happening again. “Might I keep my valuables with the guards?”
The guard captain, to his credit, appeared to consider this. “The guards are not guarded themselves, I’m afraid; the off-duty members are generally sleeping. We don’t have a particular place that’s always under watch.”
“Including my wagon,” the Captain interjected. “We had Calli posted here as a precaution while we have prisoners on the premises. You were guarded last night for the same reason. When they’re handed over to the road patrol, I won’t be under watch either.”
“But... all of those merchants,” Agna reasoned. “Some of them deal all day, every day we make camp. Edann – the apothecary, say. Medicines are expensive. Who guards his money?”
“Most of the merchants carry accounts in the city banks along the way. As do I, and most of the guards. Anyone who doesn’t spend or drink her take from one town to the next will keep it somewhere safe. Which, ultimately, means somewhere off the road. No offense,” she offered to the guard captain.
“None taken.”
“Hold it. Nobody ever told me that.”
The Captain hesitated before she answered. The Yanweian spoke up in the silence. “I don’t think the Benevolent Union properly prepared Agent Despana for this assignment, ma’am.” Agna could have elbowed him in the head or hugged him. She wasn’t sure which. As insulting as it sounded, it seemed as though he’d intended to speak in her defense. When no one replied, he went on. “And they didn’t target her money. They didn’t seem to be targeting anyone. They came up behind me because we were at the edge of the camp, and because I was outside. I think it could have been anyone.”
“I see.” The Captain considered this, arms crossed. The guard captain laced his fingers on top of the papers on the Captain’s desk. The master of records, sitting across from him, stared at the ledger. The Yanweian did not explain further, and Agna imagined how it might have happened. He had been outside, sulking or practicing his lute. They had sneaked up to the edge of camp, found him, and grabbed him simply because he was there. Agna shivered.
But it also countered what the Captain had implied, that Agna had behaved recklessly by keeping too much money on hand. If anyone could be robbed at any moment, it didn’t matter how much money one kept. Though, she admitted to herself, if you meant to limit the loss if you were targeted, it would be best to keep your valuables somewhere else.
Still, no one had told her that it was dangerous out here. They had guards, after all. But then, perhaps they had guards because the thieves were out there in the first place. They’d known that bandits could strike at any time. Agna had never envied the Captain’s wagon for that reason before. She had thought only of material comfort. Suddenly, the difference between wood and canvas walls meant a great deal indeed. A thief could breach a wagon as easily as a tent, of course, but somehow it made a difference.
“Captain?” The five people inside the wagon turned to the door. The guard, Calli, had reappeared. “We have the trunk. I need some help lifting it, though.”
The guard captain made the first move, and helped Calli to hoist the trunk into the wagon. “Thank you, Cal. As you were.”
“Yes, sir. And I should tell you that we’ll be moving in a minute or—” The starting bell clanged behind her, followed by distant cheers. “—maybe now.”
“Go and ride your rounds. I’ll defend the Captain if need be.” He threw a wry look at the Captain, who did not react.
“Yes, sir.” Calli closed the door behind her. The wagon lurched, and its inhabitants steadied themselves on whatever was closest to hand.
The guard captain wheeled Agna’s trunk away from the door. “Go ahead and check, Healer. Take your time. Let us know if anything’s missing.”
Agna knelt by the trunk. She would have to pull out all of her things in front of everyone, it seemed. The Captain sat at her desk, the guard captain took a chair next to her, and the master of records waited with his book and pen. The Yanweian stood between them and Agna, balancing against the wall as the wagon swayed.
“Tell me about the chase,” the Captain began. “What did they find?”
Agna tried to block them out as she lifted the lid. She had so few things to begin with. The trunk was large, but she hadn’t been able to bring much apart from the money box. And that was gone. What was left of her life was heaped in the resulting space. She pulled out one object at a time, folding the clothes as best she could one-handed, stacking the books. Her writing case was all right. She took a moment to breathe, to realize that she still had all of the letters she’d gotten.
They had taken a mirror, one of her three dresses, two pairs of shoes, her cloak, and all the money she needed to survive for the next two years. No – there was a little money in her money pouch, which had been attached to her belt and overlooked. That was all. Everything she’d brought with her. Everything that her parents had given her. And everything that she’d earned from the clinic, from all of those patients. It wasn’t much, but it was gone now, too. And that didn’t even belong to her; it belonged to the Benevolent Union. How could they?
She weighed the money bag in her hand. She would have to dump it out and count it the next time they camped. It would be a number. Not anything real. How would she pay for food and baths and books and postage and hiring help around the campsite? Food, especially; how was she supposed to cook with her arm in a sling? The camp cook’s meals weren’t expensive, but if she bought two or three a day, every day, that would add up – she supposed. She had never added it up before. It would have been unnecessary.
It wasn’t unnecessary anymore.
It was so ridiculous. Why would you have to do something so obsessive and silly as figuring out how much money you spent on food in a week? How much water did you drink in a week? How much air did you breathe?
Agna took a deep breath, trying not to think of measuring air. She returned each item to the trunk. It seemed empty without the box that had contained her funds. She supposed that it would at least be easier to lift, and bit her lip to keep from giggling.
The question lurked behind her exhausted panic: should she write home? Her parents would help her out. Of course they would. They would be happy to do it.
It’s too dangerous out there, dear. Come home. You shouldn’t make your own choices, obviously. You failed. We knew that being a healer was a mistake. But that’s all right, come home and we’ll help you be who we want you to be.
Never.
Agna clenched her uninjured hand in her lap. One hand mirror, wood backing with mother of pearl inlay. One spring cloak, thin wool. Two pairs of good leather shoes and a green silk dress. Money. A lot of it. All of it.
But she would not give up. Not if she starved, not if she had to calculate the prices of things as though she were solving an arithmetic problem in school. She would figure it out, and prove that she hadn’t made a terrible mistake. She m
ight have made a mistake in joining the caravan. But not in coming to Kavera. Not in being a healer. Not in going to the Academy. She would never allow them that.
She was alive. Her shoulder hurt, but it would heal. She could think, and plan, and organize. She could use her healer’s art. Money was just money. She would not trade her dignity for it. She had surrendered her possessions to keep the bandits from causing her and the Yanweian more harm. It had been worthwhile then. It was worthwhile now.
Agna closed her trunk, locked it, and palmed the key. She stood to face the Captains, the master of records, and the Yanweian. She cleared her throat. They looked up, waiting.
“They took some things. My cloak, and a hand mirror. A nice hand mirror,” she said, and then felt petty. “Two pairs of shoes. A silk dress that was almost new. And my money. Just about all of it.”
“How much?” the master of records asked, writing all of this down at the Captain’s desk.
“I don’t know. My – I came with enough to sustain me through my assignment. And my earnings from the clinic. They took that, too.”
The master of records paused and glanced at the Captain. “Give me an idea, please. Was it in Kaveran coin? Gold unions?”
“Mostly. I mean – mine was. The stuff from the clinic was mostly smaller.”
The Yanweian cleared his throat. “You have records, Agent, don’t you?”
“Oh – yes. Yes, I do. Of the clinic part.” She was so relieved to have gotten an answer to at least one part of the question that she couldn’t be irritated with him. She elbowed her trunk open and pulled out her logbook. She pinned the book against her body and ruffled through the pages.
The Yanweian reached for it. “May I?”
Agna flushed, but she let him take it. He paged to the end of her notes and read out the total before handing the book back to her. She stowed it again.
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