by Krista Walsh
With one hand, he explored the surface beneath him, running his fingers over the grain of the wood. Not a bed, then. What had happened to him?
He remembered the arrow tearing through the meat of his thigh—his second time getting shot in the leg since his first visit to Andvell—and he flexed both legs, waiting for the pain. When none came, he relaxed and opened his other eye to get a better look at the healer.
At least, Jeff guessed he was the healer. The man looked old enough to have died a few times over, with a long white beard and short cropped hair. Throw a pointed hat on him and he could have been cast as a wizard in some epic fantasy film, or a yoga master in his loose black trousers and grey tunic, barefoot in spite of the cold floor.
The man rested his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “My name is Corban. You, I’m told, are Jeffrey.”
“Jeff,” he corrected, the word coming out like a croak. His tongue felt like sandpaper against his lips, and he cleared his throat to work out the stiffness. Corban got the hint and grabbed a cup of water, helping Jeff sit up so he could drink it. Jeff snatched at the white sheet covering him from the waist down to protect his modesty as his feet dangled over the side of the table, too high to reach the clay tiles below.
The liquid stung as it went down his throat, and Jeff wondered if he hadn’t actually swallowed the fire in his dreams.
Once he drained the cup, he handed it back to Corban. “I hate to correct you, but the last man who called me Jeffrey had a nasty habit of trying to kill me.”
Corban stared with deep brown eyes that seemed to look through Jeff more than at him. “Jeff it is then. How do you feel?”
“Alive. In large part thanks to you, I understand.” He remembered Cassie telling him about this man. But where was Cassie?
“Entirely thanks to me, thank you very much,” Corban said. “All you did was lie there and thrash.”
Jeff chuckled and reached up to brush back his hair. Hand halfway to his face he stopped and looked down at his arm.
“I don’t remember getting cut there,” he said.
A white bandage, smeared with blood, was wrapped around his elbow.
“Ah, yes. That would have been me.”
Jeff raised an eyebrow. “A healer causing more damage to a patient?”
“When his patient’s blood has practically turned to a solid, yes, I felt it wiser to do what needed to be done. We had to bleed you. Took out more than was safe, I confess, but better than letting it turn you to stone on the inside.”
Jeff swallowed hard at the thought, staring blankly at the bandage. “I don’t understand. I thought I was shot.”
Corban’s brown eyes crinkled in the corners. “And so you were. The shot itself wouldn’t have done much damage. Let’s take a look and see how the healing is coming along.”
Jeff tensed, his fingers squeezing the sheet.
“Don’t look so petrified, boy,” Corban chided. “You got shot in the leg, not in the ass. Your leg is the only part of you I need to see.”
He pulled the sheet to the side, and Jeff crossed his hands in his lap to make sure the rest of the cloth stayed in place.
Corban unwrapped the binding, the skin on Jeff’s thigh going from white to pink as blood returned to the area. “That’s looking much better than yesterday.”
The pressure off, a new pool of blood beaded to the surface and dripped down the outside of Jeff’s leg.
“It’s still bleeding,” he said, surprised.
Corban nodded. “An effect of the drug I gave you to fight whatever poison was on the arrow. As I said, the shot itself was not enough to do you much harm. You can see it’s not that deep a wound. But the arrowhead was laced with some sort of solidifying agent. By the time the blood reached the surface of your leg, it was more mud than water.”
Jeff shuddered, realising how close he had come to not making it through that fight.
“Who were those people?” he asked.
Corban peered up at him through bushy eyebrows as he poked at the wound. “That I do not know. But I’m sure your friends will be along shortly to tell you what they’ve learned.” He moved over to the table and grabbed a jar before coming back. “I’ve had to fight them away with threats of dental surgery since Counsellor Reed first brought you to me. It was lucky he loaded you up on his horse the way he did. I don’t think you would have lasted another hour.”
Another debt in Brady’s ledger, Jeff thought.
“Brace yourself,” the healer warned as he applied the salve from the jar onto Jeff’s leg.
Jeff screamed and grabbed onto the edge of the table, squeezing until his knuckles cramped. He remembered that pain. It was the same feeling as when the beaver slapped him with his tail, a buzzing that raced through his veins. Like the sound of the dentist’s drill, but on the inside.
Sweat dripped off his nose, but after a few seconds the buzzing stopped, and Jeff gasped to catch his breath.
“I know it hurts like a son of a bitch, but it will absorb the poison like nothing else. If you’re curious, watch the colour of the ointment over the next hour. It will turn purple the more it takes in. The first batch I applied turned black within moments. The last was a lovely lavender shade.”
“So glad my injury has provided such artistic appreciation,” Jeff slurred, whatever energy he’d woken up with draining out of him. He looked longingly at his pillow and hoped the examination was almost over.
His hopes rose as Corban grabbed another roll of bandages from his table and slid one end under Jeff’s thigh.
“This isn’t your first shot to the leg, is it?” The old man pointed to another scar a few inches below the fresh gouge.
Jeff ran his fingers over the white patch of puckered skin. “That one was a crossbow.” He’d taken the hit while falling a hundred metres into a river. “I guess I don’t have the best luck when it comes to getting shot.”
The healer began to wrap the leg, sealing in the now-cooling ointment. “I don’t know. You’re still breathing, which suggests a great deal of luck to me.”
“You’re one of those optimistic types, aren’t you.”
Corban shrugged. “Always seemed better than the alternative.” He tied off the bandage and threw the sheet back over Jeff. “Everything looks well on the surface, but I recommend at least another day of rest before you try to move. It’ll take another few hours for the bleeding drug I gave you to leave your system. Until then, even the smallest papercut could risk your bleeding to death.”
Jeff groaned and lifted his legs back onto the table. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Do you feel up for a bit of company?” Corban asked. “I think I hear some scurrying on the other side of the door.
Cassie.
Jeff’s heart started to race, and he nodded. “I think so.”
Corban’s eyebrow quirked. “Do your best to stay calm, please. I’ll know if you haven’t because your blood will be all over the floor. Deep breaths and don’t upset yourself.”
“Got it.” But in spite of the healer’s words, all he could think about was brushing his fingers over Cassie’s cheeks and kissing her until she ran out of breath.
“Come in,” Corban called out, and Jasmine and Venn stepped into the room.
Jeff watched the door, waiting for a third head to pop through, one with a high ponytail swaying between her shoulder blades, but no one else came.
His heart sank.
“I’ll leave you to chat, but I will return in however long it takes me to sneak another cream tart out of the kitchen. And let me say now that if I come back to find my patient in any worse state than he’s in right now, you will be banned from this room until he’s able to walk out of it on his own steam. Is that understood?”
Venn saluted. “Yes, sir. And Jin told me to tell you that you’re not allowed any more cream tarts.”
Corban scowled. “I knew that woman noticed the extras I’d taken.”
Venn grinned. “So I stole two for you.”
<
br /> She pulled them out of her pockets and handed them over with a conspiratorial wink.
“You have however long it takes for me to eat both of these tarts,” Corban corrected, and then he turned and left.
Venn pulled herself up on the table next to Jeff and crossed her legs, while Jasmine stood beside him, leaning her hip on the edge.
“Where’s Cassie?” asked Jeff. He’d waited until Corban left the room because he was afraid he knew the answer.
Concern passed over Jasmine’s face. “We don’t know, Jeff. Remember? The Sisters sent her off somewhere, but we haven’t found her yet.”
Jeff shook his head. “She was here. She was standing right where you are now. She told me she found me. She told me about Corban, and that I would be all right.”
Jasmine rested her hand on Jeff’s shoulder. Jeff saw the look that passed between her and Venn, knew what Jasmine was about to say, and for the life of him didn’t want to hear it.
“Jeff, honey, that was me. I was here with you the whole time. You were incoherent, out of your mind.”
The ache of disappointment and grief hurt more than Corban’s salve. He almost wished the bandage on his leg would loosen so the open wound could bleed out onto the floor. Cassie was still missing.
He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut, pounded his fist against his forehead.
Venn smacked his good leg. “Hey, don’t go losing hope on us here, all right? It’s normal that you started seeing things, the doc said it might happen. Said he was worried your brain might melt out of your ears, your temperature was so high. But he brought it down, and he brought you back. You just need to get better so we can get out of here, go find Cassie, and kick whoever’s ass has kept her away from us.”
Jeff inhaled slowly, through the pain in his heart, and then opened his eyes and cleared his throat, ready to change the subject. “Tell me about the fight. I’m guessing we won.”
Jasmine crossed her arms. “You guess correctly. It wasn’t a hard fight. They had no idea what they were doing.”
Jeff remembered having the same thought about the woman who’d thrown him from his horse.
“Where’s Swish?”
Venn’s eyebrow quirked. “You nearly died and one of your first thoughts is what happened to your horse? You’re a strange man.”
“Swish is fine,” Jasmine reassured him. “He rode for the nearest stable, which happened to be this one. He’s fed and warm and been resting soundly the last two days.”
Jeff frowned, the movement making the muscles in his face hurt. “Two days? Is that how long I’ve been out?”
“Like I said, we nearly lost you,” said Venn. “In fact, I’m surprised you’re in as good shape as you are. I would have thought you’d be in more pain.”
“Why? Corban mentioned the blood turning solid part, but what else was there?”
Jasmine chewed on her lip, considering her answer. After a few seconds’ silence, she said, “Do you remember what it looked like when Raul turned into a dragon? The way his body contorted, and all his bones snapped?”
Jeff swallowed, stomach turning as he remembered that night. He still heard Raul’s screams in his nightmares from time to time, and the sound of his bones cracking, loud enough to hear across the battlefield.
“It was like that, except without the broken bones. You couldn’t stay still. Jayden and Brady had to hold you down so the physician could administer the sleep aid. It took hours to get you stable.”
Jeff shivered again. “These robed guys didn’t want to take any chances, did they? Do we know who they are? Brady and I, we managed to pin one of them down. A woman. Were you able to get her back here?”
Venn frowned. “Oh, she’s here. In fact, she acted almost happy to be caught. Jayden and his friend Kariel are still working on her.”
“Is she as stubborn as you were?”
When Venn had tried to murder him, seeking revenge for the death of her sister, which she had falsely attributed to Jeff, Jayden and the queensguard captain Michael Dorning had tried to pull information from her. She had spat in their faces and smiled like a lunatic until each one had grown too frustrated to keep pushing.
The memory made Venn smile. “Not even close. They’re not learning anything, but she’s not keeping her mouth shut either. Going on about worlds colliding. It’s the same shit we’ve been hearing since we got here. Meaningless babble.”
“For now,” said Jeff, passing a hand over his face as his head spun. “I’m sure it will all make sense before the end. It means something that she knows what’s going on.” He saw Venn and Jasmine exchange a worried glance and froze. “What?”
Jasmine shifted her gaze to meet his. “She did say one thing pretty clearly. That they won’t stop until you’re dead.”
“Did she happen to say why?” Jeff asked, not sure he really wanted to know.
Venn shrugged. “Something about you tying everything together. Once you’re dead, there will be nothing to stand in their way. The usual villainous speeches you hear on TV.”
“TV?” asked Jasmine, and then her eyes brightened with recognition. “Oh! The talking pictures you watch through a sheet of glass.”
Venn nodded. “Pretty incredible, but explains how this one here got so soft and out of shape.”
“I love you, too, coz,” Jeff retorted, only paying half a mind to what they were saying. He’d been so worried about Cassie he hadn’t even considered his own safety. “I thought I’d be safe with you guys. Why am I always a target in this world?”
“Must be your charm,” said Venn.
Jasmine smirked. “Or because you go around claiming to be the mastermind behind the world, and everything and everyone in it. Gives people this crazy idea you hold some power.”
Jeff rolled his eyes, and winced as the gesture shot pain into his head. “When’s the last time I told some stranger, ‘Hey, I made you’? The only people who still make a big deal about my authorhood are you guys.”
“And Raul,” said Venn.
Jasmine dropped her hand onto Jeff’s shoulder before he could reply.
“Not possible,” she said. “We’ve been through this. No one can come back from losing a head and turning into stone. Not even him.”
“Then why does it feel like we’re braced for it to be him?” asked Venn.
Neither Jeff nor Jasmine could give her an answer.
Logic didn’t come into play where Raul was concerned, Jeff had learned over the last year and a half. But he’d already had this conversation with Jasmine, and with Maggie. It couldn’t be Raul.
“No matter who it is,” said Jeff after his own thoughts came full circle, “we can’t wait around here for those Rober people—“
“Rober people?” Jasmine asked, smirking.
Jeff shrugged. “They’re in robes. Anyway, we can’t wait for them to find us, and we can’t stay out of the way while they try to achieve their crazy-ass goal, whatever it is. We need to get to the palace and now we’re behind schedule.”
He wished he could pull off some gallant gesture of sitting up and throwing off the sheet, ready to march out and tell everyone to pack up. But the throbbing in his head had reached a crescendo, and he still wasn’t wearing pants.
“We’ll worry about that once you’re better,” said Jasmine. “For now, you should focus on resting. You’re bleeding again.”
She put pressure on Jeff’s arm to staunch the blood soaking through the bandage.
“There goes your leg, too,” said Venn with a sigh, putting her full weight across his thighs. “Bloody hell, Jeff. You have the blood pressure of an old lady or something. Take a breath. You don’t need to figure any of this out right now.”
Jeff’s head started to swim, and he cursed that some stupid poison made him look like a wimp when really, for the first time in his life, he had found his courage.
The door opened on the scene of two women holding down the weak man, and Jeff heard Corban grumble, “What did I tel
l you about my patient? Get away, get away.”
“We didn’t do anything,” said Venn. “It’s not our problem he worries too much.”
Corban poured some of the strong-smelling mixture from the pot over the fire and brought it over to Jeff. “Your rumination has forced me to feed you the concoction. Open up.”
Jeff wanted to ask what it was, and why Corban had spoken the word so ominously, but he felt drunk, unable to string words together.
Jasmine helped tilt his head up so Corban could pour the mixture down Jeff’s throat. He sputtered on the bitterness, gagged on the aftertaste of rotting meat.
“Shit, that’s gross,” he said.
“It really is,” Corban agreed. “So I’ll do you the favour of not telling you what’s in it. What I will tell you is that this will reduce the effect of the bleedrose I gave you. Although I must warn you, this one will likely make you throw up. I’ll get you a pot.”
He had hardly finished speaking before Jeff felt the noxious potion twist his stomach. It was all he could do to wait until Corban brought an empty pot before bringing up all the nothing he’d eaten the last few days. It didn’t take long before even the bile was gone, and he stretched flat on his back, feeling his insides churn while Jasmine and Venn clutched both his hands.
“It will pass soon, my boy, I promise. I can’t guarantee it won’t continue tomorrow in, er, another capacity.”
“Ew, old man,” said Venn. “I don’t need those images in my head. You have all these miraculous herbs and flowers and junk. Don’t you have anything that could save his life and not make his insides turn to water?”
Corban nodded. “I have just the thing. But it would liquefy his eyeballs and kill him within a day. I think temporary discomfort is a better option. How about you ladies leave him to sleep and try him again tomorrow.”
Jeff breathed a deep sigh as his stomach settled, dreading the second part of the purge if Corban’s prediction was correct. He definitely didn’t want an audience for that.
“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Jayden said, coming into the room.
Corban raised an eyebrow. “I thought courtiers were supposed to be trained in manners. In my opinion, knocking is one of the foundations of polite society.”