“He has some?” Beckah asked.
“He has some, but now that I have it, I’m not sure exactly how we would use it to counteract the foxglove.”
“Wouldn’t it just be ingested the same way as the foxglove?”
“Not necessarily. Sometimes, with different treatments—and especially with roots like this—they have to be crushed, pulverized into a powder before they are effective. There are some that need to be juiced, squeezing out the oils from within them to make them effective.”
“If your father has these here, wouldn’t it make sense that he might have some record of how it would be used?”
“Oh, my father keeps meticulous records. It’s just that finding anything within his records is a matter of patience and perseverance.” And most of them had been destroyed in the fire.
She smiled. “How can they be meticulous, but also require patience?”
“Come with me, and I’ll show you.”
Alec led her toward the back of the shop, behind the counter where his father often did most of his accounting and nodded to a row of thick bound books. There were over a dozen, each written in his father’s hand, each detailing knowledge he’d accumulated from several months of treatments.
“My father has an organization, but it’s one that fits with his mind. He remembers where and when he saw something before and can find it in his notes. Without knowing when he treated a particular ailment, it’s not always possible to know—or find—what he did for that person. This is all since the shop was rebuilt.”
Beckah reached for one of the books and glanced up at Alec, seemingly waiting for permission. He nodded. It wasn’t that there was anything secretive in any of his father’s books. They were records, no different from the records that were kept at the university, only they were records of his father’s preferred treatment attempts.
“This is… amazing,” Beckah said, looking up. “He’s detailing the symptoms, what he has come up with as a diagnosis, and whether the treatment worked. Can you imagine if the journals at the university were anything like this?”
Alec chuckled. “That might be part of the reason I have had such a hard time at the university. I understand the master physickers have a different way of documenting, but it’s hard when it’s so different from what I grew up learning.”
“How much of this were you a part of?”
Alec flipped the book closed, noting the date scrawled across the front. “This one? Not much. These are since I left for the university.”
“Any of these?” she asked, waving her hand toward the other volumes.
Alec crouched down, looking at the volumes that she’d indicated. “Some of these I had a hand in.” He grabbed one of the books and flipped toward the end, pointing to his notes.
Beckah leaned over the page, reading what he’d written. “You sound like him, you know that?”
Alec chuckled. “I don’t think I sound like him.”
“Well, you document like him. Does that make you feel better?”
He shrugged. “He trained me. It’s his style I’m using.”
“And the first thing you showed me was a case of diarrhea?” She wrinkled her nose as she said it, and Alec grinned.
“You wouldn’t believe how much diarrhea comes through here.”
Beckah pulled her hand off the book, and Alec laughed. “That’s the side of healing that I’m not quite sure I’m ready for. I am great with the theoretical aspect of it, being able to work through a problem and come up with a solution, but applying it—especially when it’s disgusting—isn’t something I am certain I’ll excel at.”
She turned her attention back to his father’s books. “You don’t think there’s any way to search through these books to find where your father might have used thistle root?”
“Short of asking my father, or searching through each section? No.”
“He had to have indexed it in some fashion.”
“His indexing is by year. He documents because that is what he’s always done, but he never needs to reference his notes because he remembers every treatment he’s ever administered and every patient he’s ever treated. His records are mainly for… me, I guess. So, he only compiles indexes annually. And after the fire…”
“But you studied them, didn’t you?”
“I did study some of them, but it’s one thing to observe and record symptoms, and another to look back and try to find where my father might have documented something from years past.”
Beckah stood and tapped her chin. She had a slight hunch to her shoulders, and leaned over the table, peering at the book, unmindful of the fact that she was shoulder to shoulder with Alec. She smelled of flowers, mostly lilacs and roses, both of which were used at the hospital for various healing concoctions.
“What other way would you have of searching this?” she asked him. “I think you’re right. Searching through all the volumes here would be far too difficult, but if there was another way to do it, perhaps somehow triggering your memory of something related to where you might have seen a reference to thistle root.”
“I came across it once, but…”
Beckah bit her lip. “To have come across it, wouldn’t you have likely been reading about foxglove?”
“Maybe,” he agreed. Alec tried to think about when he would have read—or written—about foxglove. There was a time a few months ago, when one of their neighbors came into the shop, complaining of something in their chest. His father had taken a listen, done a brief exam, and ultimately chose to administer foxglove.
“Grab me that one,” he said, motioning toward one of the volumes on the nearby shelf.
“This one?”
He shook his head. “The one next to it.”
Beckah pulled the book off the shelf, and Alec opened it and started flipping through the pages. As he did, he remembered seeing many of these ailments. The descriptions took him back, practically putting him in front of the patients he and his father had treated so long ago, and he recalled them vividly.
He suspected that, more than anything else, was the reason his father documented in this way. It was easy to recall a diagnosis and to recall what they tried. It was much more difficult to remember all the different faces and people they’d seen over the years, though his father would have managed even that.
Alec turned the pages, feeling the thick paper in his fingers, reminded of the easar paper. Not for the first time, Alec knew that his father would have interest in the easar paper, and he could only imagine what his father would do were he to get his hands on it, enough to document all of the ailments. Would he ever consider creating a record of healing, one that was similar in some ways to what the Thelns had with their Book of Maladies?
About halfway down the page, he came across the cluster of symptoms that he remembered. His finger paused, held just above the surface of the page, and he traced down, looking to see if there was reference to thistle root here.
“Did you find what you’re looking for?”
“I found what I remembered of foxglove,” he said. He looked up, meeting her gaze. “There was a man who came into the shop, and he had been complaining of pain. My father determined that it was from his heart and gave him foxglove.” He tapped the page, the marker where his father had documented the need for foxglove.
“Any reference to the root?”
“Unfortunately, not. It’s only about the foxglove, the dose needed to slow the man’s heart. My father never intended to stop his heart, and hadn’t worried about that the fact that he probably wouldn’t have been able to slow it enough to stop it without significant amounts of foxglove, anyway.”
“Well. It seems that since we have no way of learning from books, it’s time for an experiment.”
Alec shook his head. “I don’t think I can take foxglove again. The last time—”
Beckah smiled. “Not you. I wouldn’t put you through that again, even if I thought that was a good idea. You’re clearly sensitive to it.”
“Thanks.”
“And sensitive about many other things as well, it seems. I’m only suggesting that we take the thistle root and see if we can’t figure out the best means of administering it.”
Alec picked up the jar, noting the amount of root inside. There didn’t seem to be an enormous amount, though he didn’t know how much was necessary to counteract the effects of the foxglove.
“Where? Back to the university? If we get caught taking foxglove out of Master Carl’s supplies…” Alec didn’t even want to think about what the master would do.
“Why would we have to go back to the university when we have a full apothecary around us?”
Alec looked around his father’s shop, realizing that her suggestion made a certain sort of sense. They could test thistle root and determine the best means of administering it, and then could return to the university, and attempt to find Master Carl’s patient.
“I’ll get the foxglove and thistle root. Maybe we start with swallowing it whole to begin with.”
Beckah lifted the jar and stared through the glass. Alec could practically see her mind working, trying to decide if she’d made a mistake volunteering herself, as she noted the thorns on the side of the root. “I’m not sure I like this idea so much anymore.”
Alec smiled. “Well, it was your idea.”
16
The Test
They laid out a row of foxglove leaves on a small table that Alec pushed up next to the cot along the back of the wall. He’d carefully removed the thistle root from the jar, and cut off a few small sections of it, uncertain whether it was harmful to handle. Some of the various medicines his father collected were caustic and would be dangerous if handled without gloves on.
“This would be much easier if my father were here,” he muttered.
“If you think he’ll return, we can wait until morning.”
“I don’t know with him. There are times when he disappears for days, even weeks.”
“Why does he disappear?”
Alec shrugged. “Harvesting. That’s usually what he’s up to when he disappears. There’s no one else who can collect everything that he needs. I think that bothers him.”
“He thought he’d have you with him?”
Alec nodded. “He thought I would one day join him. Father and son running the apothecary shop together.”
“Is that what you wanted?”
“For a while.”
“What do you want now?” she asked.
It seemed a loaded question, one that Alec didn’t really have a good answer for. What did he want now? He wanted to continue to learn and study at the university. He wanted to know what it meant for him to be a Scribe, and how he could best use those, but that required him to have more time with Sam.
“I want to help that man if I can.”
Beckah nodded once. “Me, too.” She grabbed an entire leaf of foxglove and put it in her mouth and swallowed it.
“Beckah—”
“Better find an antidote.”
Her eyes grew heavy fairly quickly, and she blinked at him, looking through half lids. “This might have been a mistake.”
The words were thick, and Alec wasn’t sure that he heard her correctly but agreed that she’d probably made a mistake. She was impulsive, and if he failed to find some way of helping her, she might not survive.
Alec grabbed one of the cut ends of the thistle root and handed it to her. “Chew this.”
She opened her mouth slightly, and Alec shoved the small finger of thistle root into her mouth. She chewed on it, and her head began to bob.
He didn’t know how long the thistle root took to work—if it even would in this manner.
She stopped moving, and he quickly grabbed another section of the root and crushed it beneath his knife. The effect would be much like chewing it, but sometimes cutting it like this—pulverizing it—helped release various healing compounds from the different roots.
A few more moments passed before he managed to get her to take that into her mouth. “Swallow.”
Would she obey? She seemed confused enough that it was possible she wouldn’t. Thankfully, she managed to maintain enough focus to chew on the root and swallow it.
Alec waited, watching her.
He grabbed for her wrist, feeling her pulse. It slowed dangerously, dropping into a range where he knew she wouldn’t last long if it persisted like this.
“Beckah—” he said.
He had to do something different.
The juice of the root seemed more likely to be effective than anything else, but he couldn’t exclude that the pulp might have some beneficial properties as well. Maybe they hadn’t used enough. After the first dosing, she hadn’t gotten any worse, but she hadn’t gotten any better. After the second dosing, she had definitely not gotten any worse, but she still hadn’t woken up.
Alec cut off a longer section of thistle root. If this worked, they wouldn’t have much remaining. It might be enough to help restore the man at the university, but he would leave his father with no supply. Was that dangerous?
Alec pulverized the section of root and slipped it into Beckah’s mouth. He had to force her to chew and then stroked her throat to encourage her to swallow. She did so, but reluctantly.
It was all he could do. He sat back, waiting. If this worked, he hoped she would come around quickly.
“Beckah?”
She didn’t react. Was this what he looked like when he’d succumbed to the effects of the foxglove? With Beckah, at least he had the hope of an antidote, but at the university, they hadn’t had any thistle root. They had simply put Alec in the hospital until it wore off.
Would he have to get Beckah to the hospital? He had no idea how long she might be in this state. Or if she’d ever come out of it.
She took a quick breath of air and sat up suddenly, looking around the room as she blinked her eyes. “That was unpleasant,” she said.
“Which part?”
She licked her lips before glancing over to the cutting board where he’d diced up the thistle root. “Probably that most of all. It has a particular aftertaste that lingers. It is not pleasant.”
Alec laughed in spite of himself. “Your heart seemed to have stopped, much like the man at the university. I don’t know if the thistle root made a difference, or if it simply wore off.”
“I took enough foxglove that it should have taken longer to wear off.”
“I don’t know. When you took a pinch of it when we were in class, it worked immediately, but it also wore off very quickly with you. This time might have been similar, but the greater dose could have extended the duration of the effects.”
Her gaze drifted down to the foxglove leaves. “There’s only one way to test.”
Before he could stop her, she pinched off the end of one of the leaves and stuffed it in her mouth and began chewing.
“If the thistle root is truly an antidote, then this shouldn’t affect me,” she said.
Alec smiled to himself.
“What is it?”
“Only that I wonder if we could have tested this differently. If the thistle root prevents the foxglove from working, then we could have gone about this in reverse.”
Beckah barked out a laugh.
“Anything?”
She shook her head. “I’m not feeling anything yet. There’s a slight burning in my throat, but I don’t know if that’s the thistle root or the fact that I’ve now taken two doses of foxglove. It could be that all I’m feeling are the effects of the different ways I’ve tormented myself this evening.”
“This time, you seemed to take about as much as you did at the university.”
“Yes. I pinched off the end of the leaf just like I did there.”
“There, you began to succumb to the effects fairly quickly.”
“Right.” She grabbed her wrist and felt her pulse. “There’s no slowing. Nothing beyond the usual.”
“That means it worked.”
&nbs
p; Beckah grinned. “Didn’t you think it was going to work?”
“I wasn’t about to risk myself the way that you so willingly have done.”
She waved her hand. “I wasn’t in any real danger. You were here with me.”
Alec shook his head, unable to believe that she would so willingly place herself in harm’s way. “Now we need to go back and find where Master Carl left that man.”
“That means breaking into the hospital,” she said. “Is that something you’re ready to do?”
He was tempted to tell her that it wouldn’t be the first time he had broken into the hospital, though the first time had been with some urgency, looking for his father. But back then, he was completely oblivious to the workings of the university. Now, they had some right to visit, though it was rare for first-year students to spend much time in the hospital without having the masters there with them.
“We won’t be breaking in so much as we’ll be investigating a treatment response,” Alec said.
Beckah laughed again. “I think I like this Alec. Maybe dying was good for you.”
“I don’t think dying is good for anyone.”
She hopped up off the cot and pointed at the thistle root. “Are you going to grab that, or should I?”
Alec stuffed it back into the jar and tucked it into his cloak, before following her.
As they reached the door, he paused and turned back.
“The lantern?” she asked.
“Not just the lantern. I need to leave a note for my father that I took the thistle root. I should also let him know that we used a few of the foxglove leaves. He likes to keep a tight inventory.”
Beckah waited as Alec hurried to the back of the shop and scratched a quick note on a piece of his father’s paper. On it, he explained what he’d been through, and the fact that they were testing thistle root as an antidote for foxglove and apologized for taking the last of his supply.
Alec extinguished the lantern on his way out and joined Beckah at the door, closing and locking it behind him. It felt strange leaving the shop this late at night, and stranger still that the shop itself no longer felt quite as much like home as it once had.
Poisoned: The Book of Maladies Page 11