Where were Bastan’s men?
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Beckah said.
“Because it’s not,” he whispered.
He checked the first door and found the room empty. That was where he had been summoned to help Elaine, but there was no sign of Bastan or Sam.
The next door opened onto another storeroom, and it was as empty as the last. There was one door remaining, and though Alec didn’t know what was inside, he suspected he would find much the same. There had to be a reason that Bastan—and his men—weren’t here.
When he opened the door, the room was as empty as he expected.
“Where are they?” Beckah asked.
Alec shook his head. What had happened? Tray should have easily gotten here—unless something happened along the way and he had stopped somewhere else. But even if that happened, where was Bastan? Why was the tavern empty?
“I don’t know.”
He returned to the kitchen, and back into the tavern, where he paused. There was one other place to check, but normally, he wouldn’t be allowed access. Then again, normally, he wouldn’t be allowed unaccompanied access anywhere beyond the main tavern area.
Alec reached the door to Bastan’s private office and found it unlocked. That alone was unusual, but everything about this visit felt unusual.
The office was in complete disarray.
Sculptures were tipped, and paintings that Alec suspected were important to Bastan were tossed on the ground in a heap. He motioned for Beckah to wait outside the door, then stepped in slowly, carefully, and looked around, before spotting a small figure lying near a corner of the room.
Alec raced over to it.
“Sam?”
She was still warm, and as he pressed his head to her chest to listen for her heartbeat, he found that it still thudded, and she still had regular breaths. There was that much at least.
How much longer would she have?
Would he be able to heal her?
Alec reached into his pocket and took out one of the vials that contained a stimulant. It would speed the heart but did little else other than give a boost of energy.
Alec took one of the leaves out and rolled it between his fingers. Then he gently opened Sam’s mouth and stuck the leaf inside her cheek.
“What are you giving her?” Beckah asked, stepping closer.
Alec held up the jar. “Anfar leaves. They’re a mild stimulant and will give a small boost of energy. Maybe it’ll be enough to wake her up.”
“And if it’s not?”
If it’s not, he would have to try what his father had suggested, though he didn’t like the idea. She was weakened, and if he drew blood from her while she was in such a state, he ran the risk of taking too much. They hadn’t practiced that before, but Alec had heard what could happen if too much energy was drawn. It left both the Scribe and the Kaver severely disabled.
But wouldn’t he attempt that if it meant saving Sam’s life?
After a moment or two, her heart sped up a little, but other than that, there was no change. He took the other vials his father had given him from his pocket, and made a quick mixture using his palm as a bowl, and stuffed the concoction of healing herbs into her mouth. It would likely do nothing, but it was worth trying.
“And that?” Beckah asked.
“These are all different types of healing herbs. I don’t even know if any of them will work, but…” He shrugged. “I have to try.”
He sat back on his heels and waited. He didn’t expect that anything he was trying would make a difference. If it was foxglove toxicity, the only thing that would help her would be thistle root—or to use easar paper.
Alec searched through Sam’s pockets for her easar paper but couldn’t find it. All he had left to try was his slip of paper.
“I thought you said it was dangerous to do weakened,” Beckah said.
Alec took one of the vials that his father had given him and removed the various leaves within it. “I thought you didn’t believe in magic,” he said.
He pulled his knife out of its sheath and made a small puncture in the palm of his hand, just enough to create a small droplet of blood. He did the same with Sam, debating for a moment, but taking a slightly greater amount from her. He hated that it was necessary, but for healing, the Kaver’s blood was more important than that of the Scribe. At least, in their experience, that was the case.
“Can you help me remove her cloak?” Alec asked. He wanted to see the nature of the injury to know whether it was healing as they used their blood.
As he and Beckah shifted Sam, slipping her arms out of the sleeves and settling her back on the ground, he took stock of the injury. The puncture in her shoulder was not only deep but wide, and it continued to ooze.
What was Marin’s intent? If it was only to injure Sam, she wouldn’t have needed to stab her shoulder like that. As he checked out the wound, Beckah sucked in a sharp breath.
“Alec?”
He glanced over to see Beckah with her hands in Sam’s cloak. “What is it?”
She held up a few vials. Two of them were clearly toxins. There was the jagged and sickly-looking leaf of the orson plant. Then there was the equally deadly-looking chatterflax, its leaf a shade of gray that when powdered would stop both heart and breathing.
“Why would she have these?” Beckah asked.
From the way she questioned, it seemed that Beckah recognized them, just as Alec had.
“I don’t know. I’ve never known Sam to have anything like that with her.”
Beckah continued to check her cloak and took another sharp breath as she pulled another jar from within it. “And this?”
She handed it to Alec. It was his turn to gasp.
“Thistle root. How did she have a supply of it?”
He quickly opened the jar and removed a piece. He hoped it wasn’t already too late. If it worked, if he somehow managed to reverse the effects of whatever poison Marin had used, he’d be more comfortable using the easar paper to heal the rest of her injuries.
Alec cut up the thistle root and crushed it, creating something of a paste. He shoved it into Sam’s mouth and tried to force it down her throat. He hated how rough he was with her, but at the same time, prayed that it worked.
“What now?” Beckah asked.
“Now?” Alec glanced down at the paper. He had to try it, didn’t he? Even if the thistle root helped, he still needed the easar paper to heal her wounds.
Dipping his pen into their blood ink, he began to write.
He chose the words he used to describe her illness carefully. That was an important part of the healing process. It was much the same way that choosing the right words was important in creating an augmentation.
Alec described the nature of her injuries, at least as much as he knew of them. He described how he would heal them, though he would do nothing of the sort. The easar paper would heal them.
Then he was done.
Alec sat back, glancing from the paper to Sam.
“How will you know if it’s going to work?” Beckah asked.
“I thought… I thought it would have started by now. When we’ve attempted augmentations in the past, it worked right away.”
“Why wouldn’t it work now?”
He breathed out a shaky breath. “There are many possibilities.” He started thinking through what those might be. “It could simply be that the ratio is wrong. The ratio of her blood to mine makes a difference, especially with the intent of how we use it. With healing, it tends to require a higher percentage of Kaver blood.”
“I presume that she is the Kaver,” Beckah said.
Alec nodded. “I’m what’s called a Scribe. The ink requires blood from both of us to work, but sometimes, the intent needs more of one person’s or the others. In the case of healing, it’s the Kaver’s blood.”
He continued watching Sam, but nothing changed. There was no knitting of the wound on her shoulder, nothing that would indicate that his
attempt with the easar paper was having any effect. And there was no wave of weakness through him that would indicate it worked.
“It’s also possible that she is too far along for her blood to facilitate the magic,” Alec said. It was hard for him to admit, but that was what he feared. Maybe the magic didn’t burn within her veins when she was as sick as she was.
“What if there’s something wrong with the paper?” Beckah asked.
“It worked before, in the courtyard.” He’d seen that the augmentation had been effective. She had launched herself, the augmentation making her light, much as he intended. It had to have worked, didn’t it?
Unless something had happened to the paper between then and now.
But what could have happened?
“It’s possible,” Alec said. He remembered the sheet of easar paper that Sam had held on to and reached into her cloak. He found it folded up and buried near the bottom of a deep pocket. Alec reopened the wound in his palm, adding a few more drops of blood to the blood ink.
“I thought you said the ratio was important,” Beckah said.
“It is, but I don’t think I can draw much more from her. It’s going to require more of me, though I don’t know if it will work.”
He unfolded the sheet of paper and smoothed it out on the floor. Dipping his pen into the blood ink, he started writing. The pen scraped along the page, the coppery scent of blood filling his nose. Beckah was silent next to him, holding her breath much like Alec held his.
He made the same notation as before, though this time, he referenced himself more, adding in things that he could do to help her, including willingness to sacrifice to help Sam. It felt almost like he was trying to convince the paper to help him. It was a strange sensation, but it was the only thing that made sense to him.
Then it was done. He felt weakened, and that gave him hope. If the healing was going to work, it needed to draw power and magic from him.
“Did it work?” Beckah asked.
“I don’t know.” His eyes were heavy, and he felt like drifting, letting himself fall into a slumber, but that couldn’t happen. He needed to remain awake, to help Sam if she came around.
He felt hands slip behind him, supporting him. “I’m here,” Beckah said. “I’ll hold you.”
“No. Sam.” His mind cleared a moment. “Anfer.”
Beckah reached for something, and he felt a leaf pressed into his mouth. Alec sucked on the leaf, drawing from the anfer, hoping that it could grant him strength. All he needed was to remain awake, nothing else. If he could stay awake, he could help Sam.
He felt the juice begin to run down into his stomach, and his heart began to race along with it. He welcomed the sensation of it and welcomed the warmth flowing through him, the steady hammering of his heart, and the quickening of his pulse.
Alec sat up, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything. You did.”
He reached toward Sam and saw that her shoulder wound appeared to have knitted closed, the healing taking place following the last notes he made on the paper. Was it the choice of paper that had made the difference, or was it more about the different ratio of blood that he’d used?
Color began to return to Sam’s cheeks, enough that he hadn’t realized how pale she had been before it did. Alec brushed back Sam’s hair and felt a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Just wake up, Sam,” he whispered.
The tiredness had faded from him, but he hadn’t given Sam another stimulant. Maybe that was what she needed.
“I need more anfer leaves.”
Beckah handed him another leaf, and he rolled this up, pinching it between his fingers, and stuck it into Sam’s cheek.
Waiting was the hardest part. As he did, he looked around Bastan’s office, wondering what had happened. Why was the tavern empty? Where had everyone gone?
Where was Tray?
He had a hard time imagining Tray abandoning his sister, regardless of how angry he might be about what he’d overheard in the courtyard. That made it more likely that something had happened to him.
Clearly, Tray got Sam here, so then what? And if Bastan had been here, would he not have sought out Alec to help her? Or sent some of his men to find him? That he’d seen no sign of any of them on his way to the tavern concerned him even more.
As he continued to gaze around the office, he thought he saw something along one of the far walls, but a soft moan from Sam caught his attention.
Alec turned back to her just as she opened her eyes.
“Alec?” Her voice came out in a hoarse croak.
“I’m here,” Alec said.
Sam tried to sit up, but he kept his hand on her good shoulder, keeping her from attempting to do too much. “Where are we?” Sam asked.
“Bastan’s office.”
“How… How did I get here? I remember fighting with Marin, and I remember her stabbing me, but not much more than that.”
“When you passed out, I knew you needed more healing than what the university could offer. I was going to take you to my father’s shop, but…”
“But what?”
“But Tray convinced me to bring you to Bastan. He carried you here, while I stopped at my father’s apothecary shop for supplies.”
“You saw Tray?”
Alec nodded slowly. “Sam, there’s something you should know.”
“He knows, doesn’t he?”
“He knows. He overheard you and Marin and whatever conversation the two of you had.”
“Kyza!”
Beckah sucked in a breath at Sam’s swear. “You shouldn’t use the god’s name in such a way,” Beckah said.
Sam rolled her head toward Beckah and blinked slowly. “What have the gods ever done for me?”
“Sam. I don’t know where Tray or Bastan have gone.”
Sam started to sit, and Alec tried to restrain her, but her strength had returned enough that she was able to shrug him off. “Then something happened to them.” She looked around, frowning. “How did you get into Bastan’s office?”
“The tavern is empty,” he said.
“Then something is definitely wrong. Bastan never leaves the tavern empty, and if he does, there are at least some men faithful to him still nearby, keeping watch. If Bastan is gone, and if the men who keep an eye on the tavern are gone… What happened to Marin?” Sam asked, looking back at him.
“After she attacked you, she picked up the man who had been on the ground—I’m presuming it was the man we sought—and escaped.”
Sam sighed. “I don’t understand. There has to be some connection, but what is it?”
“What kind of connection are you afraid of?" Alec asked.
“Don’t you find it odd that Bastan asked me to rescue a man from the university that only you would be able to help me find and then Marin just happened to appear? And then, Tray shows up following the attack and runs off with me, bringing me here, and now, everyone is missing, including Bastan.” Sam stood and seemed to wobble for a moment.
Alec leaped to his feet and slipped his arm around her for support. She gave him an appreciative smile.
“Can you grab her staff?” he asked Beckah, nodding toward the wall.
Beckah went around Bastan’s desk and grabbed the staff leaning along the wall. As she did, she sucked in a sharp breath of air. “Alec?”
“What is it?”
“There’s… There’s someone else here.”
Alec glanced at Sam. He helped her toward the desk, and when they reached it, she gripped the edge before looking on the other side. After what Beckah had said, Alec had half expected it to be Bastan, but the figure was too large and too muscular.
“Tray?” Sam whispered.
32
Another Scribe
Sam still felt the effects of whatever poison Marin had used on her. She couldn’t believe that the woman had poisoned her in the first place, but she had. She hadn’t killed her, but she might as well have.
And now Tray lay motionless in the back of Bastan’s office.
She ran to him and fell forward, her legs too weak to support her. She grabbed his face, afraid that he’d already passed, but it was still warm, though blood trickled down the side of his head. He didn’t move, and she checked the artery in his neck much like Alec had taught her to do and found that he still had a pulse. That much was good.
“Can you help him?” she asked, looking up to Alec.
Alec knelt down next to Sam and did a quick examination of Tray. His hands ran over Tray’s head, then moved down to his sides, working in a practiced fashion. He leaned in and listened, pausing for a moment as he did, and then sat up, a pained look on his face.
“You can’t help him?” Sam said.
“It’s not that I can’t help them, but we’ve used too much of our strength trying to bring you back. I… I don’t have any left,” he said.
Sam shook her head. “You have to do something. You have to try. We can’t just let Tray die.”
“Sam—if we try to heal him, we’ll use too much of our own strength. And if we are too weak, I don’t think it will work.”
There had to be something they could do, some way they could get Tray help. “Alec, he would do anything to help me, so there has to be something I can do.”
“We almost didn’t survive the last healing,” Alec said. “You can barely walk, and I needed a stimulant to bring me back around, otherwise I wouldn’t be awake.”
It seemed impossible that there wasn’t anything that could be done for Tray. After everything they’d been through, after everything they’d learned of their abilities, how could they be at this point, unable to help her brother? That seemed too cruel. Impossible, and… she refused to believe it.
She worked her way around the desk and saw her cloak lying on the ground. She started toward it, but staggered and fell, sprawling forward onto it. All she needed was to reach into her hidden pocket, find the sheet of easar paper, and… What? What did she think she could do alone?
Poisoned: The Book of Maladies Page 24