Exsanguinated

by D. K. Holmberg

  “We’ll get more people as we go. Where are we going?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Kevin turned to somebody and whispered something, and the man ran off. He wasn’t anyone Sam recognized, but she trusted Kevin, which meant Bastan would have trusted this man.

  They hurried through the streets, Sam no longer able to take the canals, wanting to stay with Kevin and the others, not wanting to get so far ahead of them that she would end up separated and running the risk of reaching Bastan—and possibly danger—before she had help with her.

  There was no need to ask the others to go any faster. They hurried without any encouragement and reached the section far more quickly than Sam would have expected. She found the manor house and raised her hand as they approached.

  There were probably fifty people with her now. What must it look like having Sam and so many others marching through the street? Bastan had already told her how little she looked like she fit in the section, and she suspected she wasn’t the only one who stood out. Others with her probably stood out just as much, which would make it look like there was a mob descending on the manor house and attacking.

  “Is he in there?” Kevin whispered.

  “He’s in there, and there’s a cellar, and…”

  “We’ll get to him, Sam.”

  Sam took a moment and focused on an augmentation. She called upon strength and speed, deciding that they would be the most beneficial. In her fear and agitation, the augmentations came quickly, washing through her more rapidly than usual.

  Sam kicked the door, and it splintered.

  She raced inside, a dozen of Bastan’s men following behind her. When she reached the door to the cellar, she knew something was wrong. It was cracked open. Bastan wouldn’t have left it like that.

  Sam ran down the stairs, already preparing her attack, but she needn’t have bothered. The room was empty.

  Sam hurried back up the stairs and met Kevin. “Search this level.”

  He made a motion with his hand, a similar gesture to Bastan’s. She hurried upstairs, fearing that perhaps he had ventured up there again. That didn’t fit with Bastan. He would have stayed down with the Kavers until Sam returned. The fact that he was not there suggested to her that something had happened.

  Could Helen have returned?

  Could the Kavers have awakened and somehow broken free?

  Maybe Sam had been underestimating their abilities. Or maybe she was overestimating hers. Perhaps it was both.

  Upstairs, there was something there that hadn’t been when she’d left earlier.

  Two of the Kavers they had attacked were suspended from the ceiling the same way Camellia had been. Blood poured down their arms, staining them, but there were no buckets, not as there had been for Camellia.

  “What is this?” Kevin asked.

  “This is the violence we’re facing,” Sam said. “This is—”

  “Horrible.”

  “It is horrible.” Sam made her way over to the first of the Kavers and climbed up on a chair to check for a pulse, but there was none. She made her way to the other and checked him, but like the first, he had no pulse.

  They were gone.

  And with them, any answers they could have offered as to what happened to Bastan.

  “We have to find her,” Sam said. “We have to do it quickly, or she will get out of the city.”

  “She can’t get out of the city, not with everything that we have set up,” Kevin said.

  “Even with Bastan?” Sam asked. If Helen had grabbed Bastan, it was possible she could—and would—use him to escape the city.

  Kevin paled. “We need to find her.”

  9

  A Sedative

  Arrend had always been a place where Alec felt comfortable, and returning here now was no different. After everything that he’d gone through, having a sense of familiarity and normalcy was almost soothing. From the buildings lining the streets, each one with shop owners he knew from his childhood, to the sense of peace he felt when coming here, he appreciated it even more now that he had been raised to master physicker.

  He reached the apothecary and found the door unlocked. Alec had offered him a place at the university, but his father had refused, at least so far. If Alec could continue to encourage the university to continue offering healing to anyone, regardless of their ability to pay or their station, maybe his father would find it in him to return.

  For now, his father had not wanted to. Then again, there was something beneficial about having his father here at the apothecary rather than at the university. It gave Alec a place to go when he needed to get away.

  The bell rang softly as he entered the shop, and Alec looked around. He waited for his father to appear, but he didn’t.

  Alec made his way to the back of the shop, passing row upon row of the medicines his father collected. There was a time when Alec had been convinced his father was simply altruistic, but all of that had changed when he discovered that his father had a more nefarious role. As a poisoner, he used his knowledge to work against certain people. That still troubled Alec, and they had not come to a complete resolution about it, at least not yet.

  “I thought you would be preoccupied these days,” his father said, stepping out from the rear of the shop. Ink stained his hands, and his face was drawn, as if he’d been awake for a long time.

  Considering his father, Alec wouldn’t have put it past him. There were times when his father would work in the shop all night, either healing or mixing up various compounds. “I need your help with something.”

  “My help?”

  Alec nodded. “There’s something I can’t do.”

  “You? Alec, I’ve taught you the only limitations you have are those you place upon yourself.”

  “The only limitation I’m facing is time. I need to be doing other things at the moment, and I don’t know that I have the necessary time—or temperament—for this.”

  “And what is it?”

  “I can show you,” he suggested.

  His father frowned. “I need to finish what I’m working on before I can go.”

  “What are you working on? Maybe I can help?”

  His father studied him for a moment. There seemed to be a debate warring across his face, and Alec wondered why he would hesitate. His father had always included him in everything that he did while working at the apothecary—other than working as a poisoner.

  That had to be the reason for his hesitation.

  “It doesn’t matter what it is, I will help, Father.”

  His father nodded once. “I could use an extra set of hands, and considering your experience, you would be beneficial with this.”

  Alec followed his father to the back of the shop. A massive metal pot sat over the fire. A line of bottles rested on the table next to the pot, and a sheet of paper sat next to them, with detailed notes.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “This is a sleeping draught.”

  Alec glanced at the page. There were probably twenty different items involved in mixing this, a much more complicated mixture than most that his father made. Most of the time, his father preferred simpler mixtures, and they consisted of two or three compounds, sometimes a few more at most, but never this many.

  “What kind of sleeping draught is this?”

  “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

  Alec pulled his attention away from the page and looked up at his father. “I do want to know. Who is this for?”

  “I have many people who come to me for services.”

  “You have many people, but few would need anything this complicated. Why are you making something like this?”

  “To be prepared.”

  “What kind of preparation do you need? What kind of preparation requires that you have a concoction like this…” Alec studied the list again before frowning and looking back up at his father. “This is for Helen and the other Scribes, isn’t it?”

 
His father nodded. “Bastan thought that we had better be prepared. He suspected she might be able to counter most things but doubted she would be prepared for a complicated mix. I tended to agree. I figured if I could compound it in such a way that it masks all the possible ingredients, then it would be difficult for even Helen to determine what I used.”

  Alec had to agree that would likely be true. It surprised him that Bastan would be so thoughtful about what was used, but then should it? Bastan was incredibly intelligent. He had to be, especially for him to have gained such power throughout the city. Of course, Bastan would be making plans. But then, why wouldn’t Bastan have shared with him and Sam what he was doing? Unless he had shared with Sam. Maybe Sam wasn’t sharing with him.

  “How did you come up with this particular recipe?” Alec asked.

  “It has been a series of trial and error,” his father began. “I started with the premise that I wanted to ensure anything I mixed could be masked. I feared that Helen, especially as intelligent as she is, would know if there was something to be concerned about. Most likely, she would know the moment she was exposed to something, which is reason enough for me to find a way to hide it.”

  “And have you?”

  “Have I managed to conceal the presence of everything I’ve mixing in here?” His father shook his head. “There remains a bitterness to it, and I suspect someone like Helen would recognize immediately what that bitterness meant.”

  “What do you intend to do to counter the bitterness?”

  “I have been trying various ingredients and ratios to see if I can counter it, but I haven’t been able to find the right combination of compounds quite yet.”

  Alec studied the list. He didn’t expect that he would be able to find anything that his father hadn’t come up with. Everything on the list interacted with everything else, making it difficult for him to figure how his father had managed to mask the taste the way it was.

  “How are you testing?”

  “Slowly,” his father said.

  “Slowly?”

  “I can only take a drop at a time. Anything more than that and I notice the effects. Even with the drop, I still notice the effects.”

  “And I assume that when you are testing, you are primarily looking for bitterness.”

  “Bitterness. Efficacy. Color. All of the above. I need to find whatever I can to conceal it.”

  Alec studied the list. Many of the ingredients would be used to counter the effect and taste of another. “Only bitterness?” he asked.

  “That’s primarily the issue. At this point, I can’t come up with anything that can mute it any more than I have.”

  “Why do you need an extra set of hands?”

  “I thought I could continue to mix. You can add in the ingredients while I do, and maybe together we can find a way to conceal the flavor.”

  Alec dipped his finger into the mixture. He didn’t need to be any weaker than he already was. Eel meat would help, but only to a point, and he hated that he was so reliant on it. Still, he was curious about whether he could detect the bitterness or whether this was something only his father was aware of. His father had a much more sensitive palate than Alec did, and it wouldn’t be altogether surprising for his father to notice something Alec didn’t think was quite as significant.

  He needed only a taste. Just a drop. Anything more than that, and he worried that it would be too much for him.

  Alec dabbed the liquid onto his tongue, letting it linger there.

  There was definitely a bitterness. He was able to identify five of the various compounds within the mixture simply by the taste, and if he could, then he suspected someone like Master Helen, someone who was incredibly intelligent and skilled, might be able to detect even more.

  The sense of the sleeping draught washed over him.

  It happened all at once, hitting him quickly, and he staggered.

  His father was there and guided him to a chair.

  “I’d warned you that it was effective.”

  “You said you have been trying a drop at a time.”

  “Yes, but with everything I add, it grows increasingly potent.” His father took a seat next to Alec and studied him. “The good news is the effects won’t last too long.”

  “Even with the poisoning I suffered?”

  His father frowned. “It’s possible that your effect may last longer. What were you thinking if you knew your weakness from the poisoning remained?

  “I was thinking that I wanted to see if I could detect the bitterness that you were referencing.”

  “You didn’t believe me?”

  “No, I believed you, I just didn’t know whether I would be skilled enough to detect it.”

  His father shook his head. “You continue to doubt yourself, Alec, when everything you have done has demonstrated there is no reason for that doubt.”

  “It’s not a doubt, it’s more a questioning. I’m confident in what I know and what I can do; I just wasn’t certain I could detect the same bitterness you had noticed.”

  “And were you?”

  “I noticed the flavors of varl leaf, orphum paste, coscar oil, bendrl, and loras root.”

  “You noticed all of that with a single drop?”

  “I know there were probably more, but those were the only ones I could identify.”

  His father chuckled. “In a single drop. I can pick up perhaps the notes of varl leaf, but that’s only because of how awful it tastes and the contribution that it has to the bitterness. That’s what I’ve been trying to counter, but I don’t think I’ve been as successful at it as I would like.”

  “Which is why you added the swere berry?”

  “I thought that it might help counteract that bitterness. It mitigates it but doesn’t eliminate it. Any more of the berry, and it becomes too sweet. What I need is something that will take the edge off but doesn’t have quite as much sweetness to it.”

  The weakness and fatigue were beginning to recede. Alec suspected he would need more eel meat to completely eliminate the feeling, but for now, he was well enough that he could sit upright on his own once again. “What if I have something that might be helpful?”

  “What do you have?”

  “It’s a combination of things, and I don’t know whether it will be completely effective, but if it is…”

  His father glanced over to the pot. “I think Bastan is right. We do need something for when we come in contact with Helen or those who work for her. If anyone will be able to counter the effects of these mixtures, it’s going to be Helen.”

  “I don’t know that it’s wise for you to get involved like this,” Alec said.

  “I might be the best person to do so. I’m not a Scribe—not like you. I don’t have the same connections as Helen. But I do have something she does not. I have experience with this.” His father looked up and met his gaze. “I might be the only one who can do this, Alec. It’s something I think is necessary, and I’m happy to do it if it will support you and the others.”

  “And when this is done?” Alec asked.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “What I’m getting at is whether you will continue to work as a poisoner when all of this is over.”

  “I don’t know.”

  It was an honest answer, and Alec knew that he should take it and be satisfied that his father had been honest with him rather than trying to lie to him, but he didn’t like the idea of his father working as a poisoner and using his knowledge—knowledge that he’d acquired at the university —to harm others.

  “You know that I have changed the requirements at the university.”

  “What requirements are those?”

  “No longer is it necessary to have extreme wealth to obtain healing from the master physickers.”

  “You have done that?”

  “I did it because it was the right thing to do. I have been fighting against the university’s remuneration system ever since I got there. Now, as a master physick
er, I’ve been able to effect real change. If my position within the university allows me to do that, I am happy to do so. Besides, from what I understand, the reason for the price and the requirement for coming to the university was so they had the necessary money to purchase easar paper.”

  “And now that you can make easar paper…”

  “Now that I can make easar paper, it’s no longer necessary for the university to charge what it had been for the services that others need.”

  “I… I am proud of you, Alec.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “What was your question?” his father said.

  “Will you come with me?”

  “Where is it that I need to go before you help me?”

  Alec smiled at his father. “To the palace.”

  “And why am I going to the palace?”

  “Because I have need of the poisoner.”

  10

  The Poisoner and the Palace

  Alec brought his father into the palace and was guided to the cells. He hadn’t been here before and felt a chill as he went down the stairs and into the lower reaches of the palace, trying not to think of who had been held captive here. But these cells were a far cry from the city’s prison. The prison where Tray and Sam had once been held was near the edge of the city, and it was nearly impenetrable. That was a place for common criminals. The cells beneath the palace were for uncommon criminals.

  There was a part of him that wished Sam was with him when he entered, but it was probably for the best that she wasn’t. When he saw Lyasanna, he resisted the urge to shiver. She made him uncomfortable, mostly because of her complete lack of remorse for everything she had done.

  His father, on the other hand, had no such hesitation.

  He stopped at the cell, and he studied her. The princess sat inside, the room fairly unremarkable. She had a wooden cot, a bedpan, and a tray with half-eaten food on it.

  “This is she,” his father said.

  “This is the princess.”

  His father snorted. “When she’s confined, you don’t need to give her the honorific. I think Lyasanna would be appropriate.”