But Stefan was his friend and needed his help. Alec knew she had different responsibilities at the palace, and that her connection there drew her in ways that he didn’t fully understand, so he had to support her as much as he could. And he had to support his new friends here.
“Show me what you know,” Alec said.
They wound their way back and reached the hospital ward. It was primarily a line of cots, and junior-level physickers wandered around through them, checking on the patients. Most were wealthy, a point of contention for Alec, though there were some—and often, the sickest—who were accepted, regardless of ability to pay. That was something that he had not discovered until they had gained entry to the university. Before then, when Alec had first been trying to understand what role he would have with the university, he had thought they only helped those with money. That went counter to everything his father had taught him about healing, so it troubled him the most.
“Which person here?” Alec asked. The students were all assigned someone to spend time with and to study, so he wasn’t certain which was the illness that Stefan had been given.
“She’s over here,” he said.
Stefan led him between two rows of cots and stopped in front of a youngish-looking woman. She had dark brown hair, and it had gentle waves to it that reminded him of Beckah. Her face was pale, though many suffering from illnesses had pale skin. Her eyes were closed and sunken. A faint sheen of sweat covered her face.
As it often did, his training from his father kicked in. He immediately began trying to assess her symptoms, but other than the slight sweating and the pale skin, there was little that was outwardly wrong with her. Perhaps dehydration, but that was easy enough to resolve, especially for the masters as skilled as those here.
“She came here a week ago. She was complaining of cramping in her legs and difficulty breathing. After that, she went unresponsive and has been like that for several days. I’m not exactly sure what changed.”
“What of the records?”
One of the things that Alec appreciated about the university was that they kept records much like his father did. His father archived everything, keeping notes about all of the illnesses that he encountered, including his treatment approach. His records were voluminous, reflecting the hundreds, if not thousands, of people he’d helped over the years. The plethora of records gave his father—and Alec—more data to help diagnose and treat those who sought help from the apothecary. It helped that the people of the Arrend section had little trouble with the apothecary prices. If they charged prices like were found at the university, his father would have had fewer people coming to him for help. Since his father was willing to treat anyone willing to come to him, regardless of ability to pay, they had more chances to gain insight.
It was an added benefit that Alec had not considered before coming to the university. He had always thought that his father choosing not to charge for his services was him simply doing the right thing, but Alec suspected he had known exactly what he was doing. His father was calculating in everything he did.
And might be something more than Alec had known.
He tried not to think about that, about the fact that his father might have used his knowledge in unsavory ways. He was equally complicit, wasn’t he? Hadn’t he been willing to use his knowledge to help Sam, and hadn’t she used that skill set to attack and defeat the Thelns?
Stefan slipped a record into his hands. It was documentation of illness, one that was made for each person admitted to the hospital. In it, the presenting symptoms followed by all of the treatment attempts were noted.
Alec scanned the symptoms, searching for anything that might be different from what Stefan had summarized. As he’d reported, the woman had come about a week ago, complaining of cramping in her legs that she’d had for some time. She was the daughter of a canal captain and spent much of her time on board the barge. A day or so after reaching the university, she’d begun having shortness of breath and pain in her chest… and her stomach.
“She complained of stomach pain?” Alec asked.
“Is that important?”
“Probably not for what she has, but it helps me.” Having more examples of what he suspected was a referred type of pain would only help him. Maybe not with Master Carl, but it helped him gain a greater insight as to the nature of some of the illnesses they might encounter.
“Is that what it says? She was having some abdominal pain?”
“It says that she had chest pain first, and then she complained of her stomach hurting.”
“If that’s what the record says…” His mind went to work on possible diagnoses.
“Interesting,” he said, nodding his head.
“Do you know what’s wrong with her?” Stefan asked.
“Perhaps. I suspect her blood was too thick, and she formed a clot that spread to her lungs.”
Stefan’s eyes widened slightly. “That happens?” He hesitated a moment. “And you can tell that from simply reading her records?”
“I’ve seen it before. Usually, it happens with people who are sedentary or who have been sick with something else or who have undergone various surgeries, but each time it is similar.”
“The chest pain?”
“The chest pain is a sign that the clot went to her lungs.” Alec motioned to Stefan and pointed at his friend’s arm. “Think about when you cut yourself. Your bleeding eventually stops and forms a clot. It’s that clot that prevents you from bleeding out.”
“I’ve read through the hematology volumes,” Stefan said.
“Then you know that the same thing can happen internally. It’s not common, but when it does happen, it’s painful and difficult for someone to withstand. If the clot is large enough, it may restrict their ability to take in enough air.”
“And if she couldn’t take in enough air…”
“She might become unresponsive,” Alec said.
“Wouldn’t she breathe more rapidly?”
“She would, but look at this.” He pointed to a page on the record where different treatments had been tried.
Stefan studied it for a moment, and then his eyes went wide. “That would slow her breathing, wouldn’t it?”
“It would. And if she can’t take in enough air, and the medications you’re giving her for pain are slowing her breathing, she would fall into a stupor.”
“What happens if we withdraw the pain medication?”
“It’s unlikely that anything would happen. She needs to be given something to help thin out her blood. Otherwise, that clot will stay there.”
“And there’s nothing that can be done to remove the clot?”
“Not easily,” Alec said carefully. If he had easar paper, and if he were tempted, he could use that to affect a healing, but that wasn’t what he generally thought about doing with the easar paper. He suspected that some of the master healers did. Why else would they have the paper? How else would they use it? But he hadn’t seen evidence of them doing so.
Then again, even if they were, would he see that evidence? When he healed Sam, there wasn’t any evidence left, mostly because he kept no records—other than his own, and the words he wrote on the easar paper.
“There are various blood thinners that you can suggest to Master Jessup. See what he thinks of that.”
“He thinks that is a fine idea,” a deep voice said.
Alec turned around and saw Master Jessup standing behind him. He was an older man with thick bushy eyebrows and deep black hair that was just starting to gray. He had a long face, and wrinkles at the corner of his eyes gave him an almost playful sort of smile. He regarded Alec for a long moment before reaching for the record, which Alec handed over.
“Mr. Stross?”
Alec nodded.
“I see Mr. Jaffar brought help.”
Alec glanced over to Stefan and saw that he was flushing. “Isn’t that what physickers do when they struggle?” Alec asked hurriedly. “We share knowledge, doing what
ever we can to help those that entrust us with their health. Mr. Jaffar was only trying to ensure that—”
Master Jessup shook his head. “I’m not criticizing that he brought you in, Mr. Stross. I’m only acknowledging that he sought help. That is a sign of someone who understands his limitations. Often times when we gain knowledge, we forget that we have limitations.” Master Jessup cast a glance around him, and his gaze drifted over the junior physickers in the room. Each of them now practiced independently, though they still served under the direction of one of the master physickers. “Many of these in this room failed to believe they need help. Just think of this poor woman. Had we not chosen her as a teaching opportunity, would she have managed to get the help that she needs? Would we have been here, having this conversation, discussing the need for covain root to thin out her blood?”
Master Jessup pulled a jar out from his pocket and set it on the bedside table. He twisted off the top and carefully reached in, pulling out a slender length of the slimy root. Alec had some experience with covain, but not much. It was difficult to find and harvest, and his father rarely stocked it, not finding it beneficial in many of his treatments. Most of the time when he thought it would be beneficial, he sent the patient to the university. It was enough that Alec recognized it.
“It’s best when you dice it and then provide a little pressure to release the moisture inside.”
“Moisture?” Stefan asked.
Master Jessup glanced up, his eyes intent beneath his thick eyebrows. “Some would call it the juice of the root, but I prefer to use a more eloquent term. Moisture isn’t quite fitting, but juice feels far too base for my tastes.”
Alec smiled. He hadn’t had much interaction with Master Jessup, but he found the way the man spoke amusing. It was almost as if he knew that he was amusing, and he chose his words to exaggerate the effect.
“Now, if you mix this… moisture… with a hint of terland leaves and perhaps even a pinch of albon ash to thicken it, it should create a paste that can be administered into her mouth even when she’s in a stupor such as this.”
“Why were you waiting on treatment?” Alec asked.
Master Jessup arched a brow, and Alec feared for a moment that he should have been more circumspect, but when it came to healing, what was the point of delay?
“Covain root is difficult to acquire, Mr. Stross. I suppose your father would know something about that, and likely would have been able to acquire it much more quickly than we have, but our suppliers struggled to find it in enough quantity.”
“Quantity?”
“The treatment requires administering this dosage every hour for the next two weeks. Quantity becomes important with such frequent dosing.”
He pulled another two vials from his pocket and plucked some leaves from one and a pinch of blackened albon ash from another and mixed them with the juice—moisture—of the covain root. It thickened and took on a grayish coloration. Master Jessup dipped his pinky into it and ran it along the gum line of the incapacitated woman. He dipped his pinky into it again and did the same on the top gum line. When he was finished, he wiped his hands on the bed sheets and straightened his spine as he pulled a pen from his pocket, dipping it in a jar of ink that was resting on the table, and began making his notes.
“Mr. Jaffar will get credit for this diagnosis,” Master Jessup said without looking up. “Perhaps Mr. Stross should also get credit?”
Alec shook his head. “I don’t need credit for it.”
“We should all take credit for our accomplishments.”
“I’m happy enough that she will be treated.”
“Did you think that we would not treat her?” Master Jessup asked.
“That’s not it. I’ve just seen how diagnostic delays can happen, and even when you have the diagnosis, sometimes, you don’t have the necessary supplies.”
“Indeed. As I said, covain root can be difficult to acquire.” Master Jessup smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he did, and he turned away, leaving Alec and Stefan standing side by side.
“That was strange,” Alec said.
“Master Jessup? He’s quirky, I guess, but he’s a skilled physicker. I’m lucky that he has agreed to take on students this term.”
“Not that. The fact that he seems to actually care.”
“You don’t think the master physickers care?”
“I believe they care, but I’ve seen too often here how they are focused on other things. I’ve seen too often how they are more concerned about the money that can be made off of the people they are treating rather than making sure that everyone has the necessary treatment. Master Jessup seems to care.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“No. Just surprising.”
The door into the hospital opened, and Master Carl entered with a bluster, leading a small cadre of students. Alec dipped his head down and grabbed Stefan’s sleeve, pulling him out before they drew Master Carl’s attention.
6
The Captor
When she awoke, ropes cut into Sam’s arms, pulling far more tightly than was necessary. She jerked on them immediately, but without augmentation, there was nothing she could do to get free. She thought of the easar paper but suspected they had pulled it from her pocket while she was out. At least she had the sense to crush the vial of her blood before they were able to use that against her. She didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened had they managed to capture a vial of hers and Alec’s blood ink.
A cold hearth stared at her. Black coals lay within it, practically taunting her with the promise of warmth. The room itself was almost frigid, and Sam wondered what this place was. And where were Ralun and the others who’d brought her here? And why had Tray been there? After her capture, they had covered her eyes and carried her for a long time. She had fought for a while, but her strength was limited, and she didn’t want to exhaust it completely attempting to escape her captors. Without augmentation, she knew she didn’t stand a chance against Ralun and his Thelns. Her head was pounding, and she recalled being knocked out and was unaware of how long she’d been here. And where was here?
A part of her continued to hold on to the hope that Tray would release her, but he never came.
Was he so far gone now? Had Marin gotten to him? Sam wouldn’t put it past the woman. She had betrayed them for so long, and had been so convincing, that it wouldn’t be entirely shocking to believe that Marin was responsible for turning Tray. Then there was the hope, however distant and unlikely, that Sam might be able to get to him. If Marin could reach Tray, why couldn’t Sam? She had a connection to him, too, and it was one that had been strengthened by their time together over the years.
A door opened, a small gust of wind the only sign that it had. Sam twisted, trying to crane her neck so that she could see, but it was too dark and whoever had entered stood at the edge of her vision.
The air had a slight stink to it. It was a mixture of sweat and dirt and other unpleasantness. She recognized it. The stench of a Theln. Ralun?
“Are you going to stand behind me, taunting me, or do you intend to come around and reveal yourself?”
A deep chuckling sounded from behind her. “You remain spirited.”
Not Ralun. Not any Theln. Theln voices were different. While deep, they had a strange accent, and their tongues often seemed as if they were too thick with their words.
This voice reminded her of one she might hear in the city. A highborn voice.
“You’re working with them, then,” Sam said. I know they were here. I can still smell their stink.
“Ah, little Kaver, how little you know.”
Sam bit back the first response that came to mind. She thought about swearing at whoever her captor was, berating him for calling her little—as if her height wasn’t an insult enough—but she didn’t. There were other ways to get to men like this, men who thought to use insults to reach her.
“By that, I presume you mean to imply that they’re
working with you?” Sam twisted and managed to push off with her chair slightly, enough that she could turn it and see this man out of the corner of her eye. He had a round head, but shadows covered his face, making him difficult to identify. He wore a long gray jacket, and that was what caught her attention.
It was a university jacket. A physicker jacket.
Could she still be in the city?
Sam thought that unlikely, especially considering the fact that they had carried her as long as they had. It was far more likely that they had taken her outside the city, either through the swamp or onto a ship and beyond the borders, attempting to wrest from her knowledge of what the Kavers might do to protect the city from the Thelns.
“I imply nothing, little Kaver.”
Sam squeezed her hands, pushing back her irritation. It was what he wanted.
“Another traitor, it seems. The city seems overrun with traitors and Thelns these days.”
“And what a wonderful collaboration, indeed, yes?”
What? Was there a conspiracy against the city that was born of collaboration? Who was involved? It seemed that Marin had worked for someone, using her abilities to poison the eels in the canal. Sam had thought it was for the Thelns, but how was this physicker involved?
“What do you want with me?” Sam asked.
The physicker stepped forward. He moved slowly, carefully, and some of the training Alec had tried to impart drifted to the forefront of her mind. Was it joints that ached that caused him to move as slowly as he did? Or was it something else, weakness that came from age and time?
“You will find out soon enough what we want with you. Now that we have you, and soon we will have the other, there will be little that any of the remaining Kavers can do to oppose us.”
The other? Alec? She didn’t like the sound of that. She was bound to Alec through their magic. He was her Scribe, and she was his Kaver, which granted them both particular abilities. If someone like this physicker—or Marin—intended to take advantage of that, they could potentially use her and Alec’s blood, forcing them to serve, and possibly using their power to augment others. It was something that the other Kavers—her mother—had warned her about.
Tormina: The Book of Maladies Page 5