The Best of Deep Magic- Anthology One

by Jeff Wheeler

“And you think my father will do better than a Guild healer?”

  Kira sighed. She didn’t, but since their money had been stolen, she had no other options. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

  Galen shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Kira. He’s not here. Left to collect herbs and other supplies about two weeks ago. Doubt he’ll return for another two weeks. He left me in charge, though that mostly means inventory.” He held up his ink-stained hands.

  Kira took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Of course. It was worth asking.”

  The rain started to taper off, turning into a fine mist that still left her feeling soaked. She stared across the square, worry for what she would tell her father when he returned growing stronger.

  Looking back at Galen, she asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Galen laughed lightly, still watching her with his piercing blue eyes. “I had just stopped at Rubbles trying to buy paper,” he said. “Probably not the best weather to make such a purchase.”

  Kira wondered if he had seen her father. Would Galen even recognize him after his years away? But he had recognized her, even changed as she was, though she shouldn’t be surprised since she had always known Galen had a crush on her. “You didn’t find any?”

  Galen held up his hands again. “Closed.”

  If Rubbles’s was closed, then her father would return soon. And she would have to tell him what had happened. “Where else can you try?”

  A small smile crept across his face. “Theran.”

  “That’s nearly a day’s ride!”

  “Longer by foot,” he said.

  “Galen—” Another coughing fit kept her from finishing what she intended to say.

  “I don’t know what the healers have tried, but if you’re visiting Amon for long, you should stop by the shop. Let me at least give you something for the cough.”

  Kira managed to suppress the cough long enough to nod. “I’ll talk to my father about that,” she said, seeing the top of his head weaving through the crowd as he made his way back to the wagon. Already she felt her heart pounding as she thought about how she would tell him what had happened. Would they just return home to Duras? At least that way she would have time with her mother before the illness took her.

  “Do you remember how to find it?” he asked.

  There was a sincerity in his voice that pulled at something inside her. She forced another smile as she nodded. “Thank you, Galen.”

  He studied her for another moment and then started away. Kira watched him until he rounded a corner. Only then did she hear her father opening the back of the wagon, and she began to prepare for his outburst, dreading the conversation as another coughing fit threatened her.

  * * *

  Kira clutched the roll of parchment in one hand as she looked at the storefront. Little about it had changed since she had lived in Amon. The paint had faded somewhat, and the lettering seemed smaller, but otherwise, the sign reminded her of those days so many years before when she had still been allowed to move around the streets alone. She’d never had the same freedom once her father moved them to Duras. The larger city had different dangers. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to protect her from everything.

  She had not had the heart to tell him about the chest. With the rain, he had slammed the back of the wagon shut quickly, not looking inside, but she had no doubt that he would soon learn what happened. And then she would be forced to endure his disappointment.

  A fit of coughing set her shaking, then slowly eased. The fits seemed to be getting worse, each time taking her breath away for longer. That time, a little blood came up. How much time did she have left? At the least, she could take Galen up on his offer and see if he knew of anything that would suppress the cough. Perhaps his father had learned of something the Guild had missed.

  A bell over the door jingled as she pushed it open. Inside, the shop itself looked neatly cared for, rows of shelves all well labeled. That, at least, seemed different. She remembered Aelus’s shop to be more disorganized, a clutter of scents from the stacks of herbs practically overflowing the shelves. She wondered if the change was Galen’s influence.

  Voices near the back of the store made her hesitate. An older man, his voice high-pitched and shaky, spoke to Galen.

  “Do you know when he might return?” the man asked.

  Kira peeked around the end of one shelf. She saw Galen standing across from a well-dressed older man, a pained look on the man’s somber face. A narrow table was all that separated them. “I’m sorry, Hyp, but he’ll probably be another week or two. If there’s anything I can do to help . . .”

  The man gripped his stomach. “Well . . . I awoke to severe stomach pains and haven’t been able to eat anything all day. I’ve never had anything quite like it.” His voice sounded pained and his head swayed as he spoke.

  “Never?” Galen asked. There was a barely masked hint of surprise as he motioned to the table. The man crawled on top, moaning as he did, and Galen pressed his hands into the man’s stomach and twisted his ear down to listen. Once satisfied, he helped the man sit back up.

  “The pain goes through to my back and neck.” He stood up straight, letting go of his stomach. “Aren’t you going to write this down, Galen? Your father always documents my symptoms.”

  Galen let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry, Hyp.” For a moment, Kira thought that Galen would dismiss Hyp. He clearly did not think his symptoms were too serious, but then he grabbed a piece of paper, dipped a pen into ink, and quickly scratched something across the page. He slid the paper quickly off to the side. “Maybe it’s time you see the Guild,” Galen suggested, looking back up at Hyp.

  A sour noted entered Hyp’s voice. “The Guild?” He grunted and shook his head. “Your father is a better healer than any Guild member. Quite a bit cheaper too. And don’t you worry, Galen, pretty soon you’ll be there as well.”

  Galen smiled and steered Hyp down the rows of shelves. Seeing Kira, he winked. “Try these,” he said, taking a few loose leaves and stuffing them into a small bowl. “Mix them in water. It should help soothe your stomach at least. Let me know if it doesn’t work.”

  Hyp nodded. “You’ll tell your father?”

  “Of course, Hyp.”

  Hyp dropped a few coins into a bowl on the table before leaving the store with a soft jingle of the bell.

  Galen watched the door for a moment before turning to face her. Tension faded from his shoulders and his neck. When he smiled, she could not look away from his eyes.

  “You see him often?” Kira asked.

  Galen shrugged. “Hyp is a worrier. It’s been worse since my father left. I haven’t figured out what my father gives him to help him relax, but nothing I’ve given has helped so far.”

  Kira looked back to the door. “Then what did you try today?”

  “Just barberry and chamoline.” He shook his head and wiped a hand across his brow. A streak of dark ink smeared as he did. “The chamoline is soothing. Might help his nerves. The barberry may help calm his stomach.”

  Kira suppressed a smile. This wasn’t the same Galen she’d known when she was younger. That Galen had been full of chaotic energy, determined to leave Amon and explore the bigger world. The Galen standing before her carried himself confidently, seemingly content to follow in his father’s footsteps.

  Another cough threatened to come over her, and she covered her mouth and took a few shallow breaths. That was the only thing that seemed to work when the fits threatened her. Galen’s eyes narrowed as he studied her and then he put an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the small table near the back of the room.

  “Sit,” he said. “Let me see if I can find you something.”

  “You aren’t afraid that you’ll catch this?”

  He looked at her with a strange expression before shaking his head. “I knew as soon as I saw you that you weren’t contagious. I just wish I knew how to treat the wasting illness that’s taken you.”

&nbs
p; Galen left her and wandered down a few of the rows of shelves. Kira looked around as he did. The hard table had a clean white sheet covering it. A few heavy tan ceramic mortars, the kind she had seen used by every Guild member her father had brought her to see, rested nearby, each darkly stained but otherwise clean. Behind the table were a few sturdy pots. As far as she could tell, all were empty. A stack of papers rested on the desk nearby, the topmost with only a few lines written on it. In a neat scrawl, she saw what Galen had written about Hyp.

  Abdominal pain. Nausea. No physical findings. Suspect hysteria. Given barberry, chamoline, and feverleaf.

  Galen returned and pulled one of the smaller mortars off the shelf. Kira did not see what he poured in before he began pounding at it with the heavy pestle. He caught her looking at the page and smiled sheepishly.

  “My father prefers to document all the symptoms and treatments. Thinks he can catalogue them sometime, make a reference that anyone can follow.”

  “So they won’t need the Guild?” she asked.

  “The Guild will always be needed for certain things.”

  Kira frowned, surprised that Galen would admit to the usefulness of the Guild.

  He shrugged. “Can’t operate on yourself. And sometimes there are unique cases that don’t have a clear answer. But often enough there is much that simple herbs can heal. I think that is his goal.”

  “I thought you were nearly out of paper?” She clutched the roll of parchment under her arm.

  Galen nodded. “That was the last sheet. Shame I had to use it on Hyp, but he was right—my father would be disappointed if I didn’t document what I saw.”

  He moved behind a tall shelf and reappeared with a pitcher and cup. “Just a small spoonful,” he said, scooping out a small amount of greenish powder from the mortar. Galen poured water over the top of the powder and handed the cup to her. “It won’t taste great, but should help ease the coughing.”

  Kira brought the cup up to her nose and inhaled. “What’s in it?” She caught a hint of mint and cinnamon, but something bitter as well that seemed to burn her nostrils.

  “Codain leaves mostly. The pulp from the leaves helps suppress the cough. Everlind takes care of what codain does not. Everything else in it just makes the taste more palatable.”

  She took a sip. The lukewarm liquid tasted as bitter as it smelled, and there did not seem to be any of the cinnamon flavor the scent promised. She almost spit it out.

  When she managed to get it down, another fit of coughing worked through her. “I thought you said it would suppress the cough?” she said when it had finished.

  “Give it time.” He pulled a metal canister out from under the counter and scooped the rest of the powder into it before handing it over to her. “Take this. If it works, use it. You can always have another healer mix more for you; just remember to tell them to use codain and everlind. They can flavor it however they please.”

  Kira took the canister. Already she felt the urgency of the cough easing, like a knot in her chest loosening. For a moment, she wondered if Galen were wrong. Maybe his concoction could heal her. Or maybe if given enough time, he could come up with something the Guild had missed.

  Then the moment passed. Even if the medicine took away the cough, nothing else had changed. She was still dying. For some reason, losing the money—and the hope of healing in Annendel—made that easier for her to accept.

  The canister wasn’t anything fancy, but after spending as much time traveling with her father as she had, she knew the price of metal. “I don’t have anything to pay you for this.”

  Galen waved his hand toward a small jar at the end of the table. A handful of coins—mostly coppers—rested inside. “That’s not how my father runs his shop, Kira. Just pay what you can. It all works out.”

  She swallowed and closed her eyes. “That’s just the problem, Galen. I don’t have anything to pay you.”

  “I thought you were going to Annendel?”

  She shook her head slightly and took a deep breath. “We were. The money was stolen.”

  Galen blinked slowly. “When I first saw you. You nearly fainted.”

  She nodded. “After every place we’ve visited. Bels. Chefe. Even all the way to Voldin. To have it all stolen here in Amon seems a cruel irony.”

  Galen put his arm around her shoulder. She tensed at first, but there was a comfort to the way he held her that she never felt from her father. Tears streamed from her eyes for a long while before drying. Kira took a deep breath and sat up, pushing away from Galen.

  “Is there any way . . .”

  She shook her head. “Not that much silver. Not with the time left.”

  Galen studied her again. The way his eyes danced from her head to her neck to her arms left her feeling almost as if he touched her. Then he nodded.

  “If only my father were here,” Galen said. “Maybe he would know of something different you could try. I’m sorry, Kira.”

  She sighed, shaking her head again. “No, Galen. I’m sorry. You’re just offering help.” She pulled the roll of parchment out from under her arm and held it out only to realize that she’d grabbed the wrong roll.

  “What is it, Kira?”

  “I meant to bring some paper to you. I thought I could use that as payment.”

  “That would be perfect.”

  “But it’s not,” she said. “I brought the wrong one. There’s a small roll of paper that my father has said is practically useless. I figured you could use it. But this isn’t that roll.”

  “What is it?”

  “This parchment is something strange my father found somewhere on the plains. The mystics there claimed it has special properties. Father thought to sell it to the Guild. They always appreciate items like that.”

  Galen unrolled the parchment and ran his hand across the surface before pulling one sheet away, fingering the edge as he did. “Where did you say he found this?”

  Kira didn’t remember exactly. Much of the journey blurred in her mind, a combination of the various medicines the healers they encountered along the way wanted her to try and the strain of traveling every day. “Voldin, I think.”

  “Much nicer than Voldish parchment,” Galen said. “There’s an unusual marbling to it.” He looked up at her. “Why can’t you still sell it to the Guild? Maybe you can trade it for the study.”

  “It’s not worth enough. Not like it is.”

  Galen frowned. “My father would love it. This is just the kind of parchment he would use to begin his record of ailments.”

  “Record of ailments?”

  Galen laughed. “Book of maladies?” he suggested.

  Kira laughed. It felt good to laugh. That she could do it without coughing surprised her.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Galen asked.

  In answer, Kira reached across him, grabbing the quill and bottle of ink resting near the stack of paper. She dipped the pen into the ink and drew a long line across the parchment.

  “Kira!” Galen reached toward the pen.

  She only nodded toward the parchment. The dark line gradually faded, as if absorbed by the page. “There is no way to write on it,” she said. “Father figured we could discover some method during our travels and make the parchment more valuable to the Guild, but we haven’t been able to find anything that would work.”

  “Would it be worth enough if you could?” Galen asked. He leaned over the page, staring after the ink for a moment. Then he took the pen and started writing. The words quickly faded.

  “Father thinks it might.”

  Galen looked up. His eyes seemed bright. “Enough for the study?”

  Kira didn’t know. Could a roll of parchment—even this strange special parchment—really be worth that much? Her father had always intended the parchment to make up any difference that remained when they finally reached Annendel. She didn’t think he expected it to fetch enough to fund the study completely.

  “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  S
he felt a surge of hope rising in her chest and knew that she needed to tamp it down. Even were she to reach Annendel, she reminded herself, there was little chance the Guild could find an answer in time to help her. Nothing could change the fact that she was dying.

  * * *

  Galen leaned over the page of parchment. Ink practically covered his face, staining his cheeks, with a small dot on the end of his nose. His bright blue eyes still held the same excitement as when they had first started searching for an ink that might work; so far, all the different inks that they had tried had absorbed into the paper just as quickly as the first one. Kira felt herself growing increasingly disappointed.

  “We can stop,” she said, leaning back in her chair. She felt exhausted, though they had only been at it a while. How much longer before her father began to worry? She had told him that she wanted to visit some of her old friends, but the only person she had seen from her days in Amon was Galen.

  “The colorant is all wrong.”

  Kira looked up and saw an older woman, gray hair pulled into a swooping bun atop her head, her dress of a simple cut but heavily embroidered.

  “Ms. Rubbles,” Galen said, lurching to his feet.

  She waved her hand and glanced at the sheet of parchment. “Stock that thick needs the right colorant, otherwise you will barely be able to see it on the page.”

  Galen shot Kira a look before smiling at Ms. Rubbles. “Of course, you’re right, Ms. Rubbles. We’ll try that.” He made his way around the table and stood facing her. “Can I help you with anything?” he asked.

  Kira hadn’t seen Ms. Rubbles since she had lived in Amon. After all those years, she looked older but no less distinguished. Being one of the few female shop owners in the village likely made the difference; Kira remembered her as tough but fair. She looked sickly, with a slight sheen to her face as she leaned on a lacquered cane.

  “Is Aelus available, Galen?” Ms. Rubbles asked.

  Galen shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Rubbles. He’s gathering supplies.” He swept an arm toward the shelves. Kira didn’t think they looked bare, but Galen obviously did.

  Something changed in Ms. Rubbles’s posture as she learned that Galen’s father was not available. She closed her eyes and let out a soft breath. “I see.”